Repair Broken Men
by Dark Tidings
Summary: AU: Shane's personality always put him in Rick's shadow. Carol's never expected to become anything more than Sophia's mother and Ed's punching bag. Merle's more than the raging addict who nearly died on a roof for his mistakes. And Daryl? He just wants his family safe even when it keeps growing to include people like Sophia and Glenn. Part 1 of Homestead Georgia series. *Complete*
1. Calvary Arrives

**July 20, 2010**

~*~ Shane ~*~

"Chokehold's illegal!"

The redneck's hoarse scream just makes Shane tighten his grip, genuinely afraid Dixon will actually kill Rick if let loose. The man is frightening in his grief. "File a complaint."

"How about I take that complaint and take Dixon off your hands?"

The combination of the unfamiliar voice and the redneck suddenly going limp makes Shane loosen his grip and drop Dixon to the ground. He turns to stare at the strange woman, who stands at the edge of the camp, hands on her hips. She is dressed in military gear, with her dark hair braided up tight. The only thing out of place is the bow sling around her chest in place of a rifle strap.

Before he can reply, Dixon is on his feet and has nearly tackled the woman, bringing her into a crushing bear hug. She returns the favor, keeping a wary eye on the crowd that gathered during the fight, murmuring softly to the redneck in some language that is neither English nor Spanish.

Nothing could surprise Shane more than Dixon replying fluently in the same language before finally giving her enough breathing room to wriggle within his grip to better face their audience. He notes she is careful to keep the arm she'd brought free of the hug near her right hip, not far from the pistol strapped to her thigh. The shift brings his attention to the name tape on her BDU shirt, and he glances to her shoulder for her rank, wishing the service branch tape isn't obscured by the redneck.

"Staff Sergeant Dixon, if you can keep him that calm, by all means," he replies. It earns him an assessing look, although the expression turned absolutely arctic when Rick moves to stand beside him. It makes him focus on the fact that while her hair and skin make her appear Latina, maybe Asian, her eyes are a vivid pale blue. A network of scars litters the left side of her neck and lower jaw.

"Officer... Friendly." The second word couldn't have been more inflected as an insult if she called Rick Officer Bastard instead. And the intake of breath from those who made the Atlanta run meant it is important. Shane might not have Rick's easy way with people, but he has an instinct for bad blood between people that rarely fails him. The woman now eyeing his partner is definitely carrying a grudge.

"Mrs. Dixon, I think we're off to a bad start," Rick begins, only to be cut off.

"Staff Sergeant Dixon." It is snapped out in a tone that left no room to imagine she is going to be placated. "We'll just be on our way, once Tihu gathers what belongings he doesn't want to leave."

That rouses Dixon and damned if Shane isn't going to confuse himself with the surname in a way that hadn't mattered between the brothers. Daryl then. "They left Merle behind in Atlanta," he growls.

"I know. That's what took me til this morning to come to find you. Had to snag Merle off that roof and help another group this asshole got stranded with his wild west show." She moves her free hand slowly to untie a mesh drawstring pouch from a strap on her uniform, tossing it at Rick's feet. It lands with a thud. "I'm afraid your handcuffs met with an accident, Officer."

Rick tries again. "Merle was out of control up there on that roof."

"He was higher than a kite, but that doesn't justify him being left to die of heatstroke or be eaten alive by those dead things."

T-Dog steps in, looking remarkably sheepish for such a large man. "It was my fault the key got dropped, but I locked the door with chains."

That only draws the chilly gaze to the big man. "There was more than one door on that roof. Do you think for an instant if it had been one of the rest of you that it'd be the goddamn next day and no one's mounted a rescue mission?"

Daryl snorts. "Not worth your time, Scout. These folks decided Merle and me were useless rednecks the second we hit camp, even if they did gobble up every bit of meat we brought in."

"Wait, Scout?" Glenn's voice startles Shane as he steps out from behind the Jeep to get a good look at the woman, who was on the other side of the vehicle when she approached the camp and the scene of the fight.

"Glenn?" A bright, genuine smile breaks out across her face.

The Korean nods, bouncing a little. "Does this mean Cricket made it okay too?" he asks.

"Yeah, and she's going to be over the moon that you're safe." She tugs gently out of the redneck's embrace and throws out an arm in an obvious offer of a hug. Surprising them all, Glenn accepts, before exclaiming, "Oh my God, Merle's your dad!" He is overtaken by a spell of giggles, which earns him a tentative pat or two from the woman.

"First time anyone's ever laughed over stating my paternity," she says, glancing to Shane's group as if one of them had the answer to the boy's unexpected hilarity. Shane is still trying to wrap his mind around Merle having fathered a biracial child. He probably isn't the only one.

Glenn calms. "Um, not that. All this time, everyone has just been assuming, me included since we never met," he waves a hand at Daryl. "He's a cop too. No wonder he was yelling chokeholds are illegal."

Andrea scoffs. "No way Dixon's a cop. He's a dope head just like his brother."

Normally, Shane is the one who rubs new people the wrong way. He acknowledges that facet of his personality, even used it to advantage while a cop, but apparently there is already enough asshole going around. He narrows his eyes, trying to remember if he's ever seen the younger Dixon brother acting strung out and drawing up a blank. Merle was high more than he was sober since they came to camp.

"Wow. That stick wedged up your ass so far it hinders your thinking?" The look of complete disdain from the woman, whose uniform displays she is a Marine now that Shane can see the other tape, is withering. "The state of Georgia sure as hell has employed him as a cop for damn near a decade."

This is going to get out of hand in a hurry if Shane judges Andrea's expression correctly, so he intervenes. "Ranger?" he queries, going with his best guess. Trooper or a GBI special agent wouldn't have let himself be part of the background like Daryl has, and the man definitely doesn't strike him as a university cop in the least.

It seems he startled Daryl with the question, but the man nods. "Sergeant in Region Three." He levels Andrea with his best glare. "And my brother ain't usually a dope head. He went off the deep end when he thought his kids were all dead."

The blonde woman doesn't look convinced, but Staff Sergeant Dixon interrupts. "If I don't check in soon, they're going to think the worst." She unhooks a walkie talkie from her belt, waving it in Shane's general direction. With half the camp loosely circled behind him watching the spectacle, he supposes it could have been any of them, but he nods anyway.

Raising the walkie, she keys it on. "Mockingbird to Gator. Found our missing Ranger and tell Kersee I found that Kimchi Pizza she's been missing. All quiet down there?" Glenn sputters out another round of giggles.

The walkie crackles back in reply as a man replies. "Gator here. Seeing some shuffling activities from the city. Nothing we can't handle yet, but Revere and Badger have taken out four just in the last ten minutes. Might be building up a herd coming this way." It pauses and then crackles again. "Kersee wants to know if you're delivering that Pizza to her or just letting her know it didn't get eaten in Atlanta?"

"I'll get back to her on the delivery question. Hold the position for another ten minutes while we take care of business. Should give you a better bead on whether it's a herd or not."

"Gotcha. Report back in ten."

She returns the walkie to its place on her belt. "Tihu, why don't you go pack up yours and Merle's camp while I see if Glenn's agreeable to being delivered?" Daryl snorts and shrugs, walking off from the group as if the fight never happened and he has no more care about their opinions with his niece back. He probably doesn't.

Shane jumps in while he has the chance. "You got military, more than just you?"

Shaking her head, she sighs. "Wish I had even a full squad, but I can't even boast a full fireteam right now. Blount Island had already fallen when I reported in, and the naval installations at Jacksonville were gone too. Ran into a navy major there that had been bitten, lost most of his men as the city fell alongside the base. Last orders I got, of any type, were to take the few Marines left standing that didn't have families to return to and rescue any civilians I could and get my ass back to my family."

She rubs at the back of her neck, surveying the crestfallen faces, obviously realizing they were hoping for something more. "Had three Marines coming out of Jacksonville and nine civilians, four of them under eighteen. One of those civilians is a wildlife officer and another's a firefighter, so not without skills, but there's worse out there than the dead walking. Lost a good Marine to an ambush and nearly another when we found out that you don't have to get bitten to turn into one of those things. We learned the hard way."

"I don't believe it. The news said it was all bites or scratches," Lori exclaims.

"Believe whatever you want, lady. I'm guessing y'all have been cozied up here in camp for the most part, but I know I watched a good kid bleed out from a bullet wound to the throat and then rise up two hours later and try to eat us before we could get her properly buried. I personally inspected every inch of her body and there was nothing but that first goddamn bullet wound and the one that put her to rest for good."

Rick twitches uneasily, and Shane glances his way, wondering what he's seen on his journey here that has him looking like he might halfway believe the story. He turns to Shane, urgency in his tone. "We need to go back and get that gun bag I dropped then."

Lori squawks a protest but is interrupted by Scout. "Big duffel dropped near that poor horse in Atlanta?" she asks. Rick nods. "Long as me and my uncle make it back to our people safe, it'll be tucked up in that brush pile by the boulder to turn off up here. Near two months traveling through Florida and Georgia has me a little paranoid about the goodwill of a group I don't know."

Shane feels his eyebrows raise as he looks at her in a little disbelief. "You're going to just give us a bunch of guns?"

She shrugs. "Guns are noisy and inefficient. More likely to draw in more dead or living with ill intent. More trouble than they're worth if you've got alternatives." She reaches back to swing the compound bow she wore in the bow sling from her back to hang at her side and pats it. "Much safer and quieter for ranged work. Blunt weapon or edged weapon for up close." That makes him note that she has something else still strapped to her back in addition to the quiver and a large knife sheathed on her combat vest.

A noisy thump accompanies Daryl tossing a duffel into the bed of his truck. "You want me to load the bike up or ride it?" he calls out to Scout.

"Load it up. Too noisy with the dead on the move today. Can't believe you two idiots brought that down with you. Shows neither of you does well without female supervision!"

"You don't say," Glenn mutters, then looks sheepish when Scout looks at him. Apparently, the young Korean is allowed the comment, because she just pats him on the shoulder.

"You coming or going, Glenn?" she asks.

He squirms, looking to the people grouped in front of the RV, then to where Daryl throws his bagged up tent into the back of his truck to join the duffel, then back to the group. "There are kids here, Scout. And without your dad and uncle, no one to hunt. So they need me to do supply runs. You know how it turned out when I took that group."

She fumbles in a pouch on her pants and pulls out a small notepad and pencil, scribbling something down before tearing off the page and giving it to him. "Memorize that address. There's a radio setup there if you don't have a CB handy if no one steals it. It's not where we're heading, exactly, but it's within radio range if that place has stayed safe and secure. Set it to the channel of your apartment number and call for Buffalo Bill. I can't make any long-term promises. If things are bad there, we might head into the mountains. Tihu worked that area pretty steady for years, so he knows the best bolt holes."

Blue eyes meet Shane's, then sweep over the group, noting the women and children, then back to Shane. "We're going to be in the area for another two or three days, clearing a few places for supplies. Promised I'd help the other group out from the city, and they've got elderly depending on them. Need a good stock of meds. Figure I've got the manpower to share some up to y'all."

"You and your group could stay here, at least as long as you're in the city. Make it easier if you're willing to help out and maybe you could show some of us how," Shane offers, ignoring the outraged gasps from behind him. Lori, for sure, at least one more. He hasn't gone on any runs before, worried to leave the camp with so few able-bodied men. He was a dumbass for letting Merle go along on the Atlanta run as it was. Rick is going to shove in and take over the group, he figures. Best to have more skills on offer than his gun.

Scout at least does him the courtesy of thinking it over - and even Rick doesn't interrupt her thought process. She studies the camp, assessing the setup. "Not entirely sure there's enough room," she says at last.

"Just how big is your group?" Rick asks, incredulous.

"Adding in my two lost sheep and counting myself, thirty-five. Took that rescue civilians order from Major Ballard just a little bit seriously. Collected them up in twos and threes over half of Georgia."

Almost twice the size of their group, Shane realizes. "Bunch of civilians here."

"Yeah. But a large number of the adults here seem pretty happy to be rid of my dad. Didn't figure any of you were going to want to repeat the experience, and I'm not entirely sure everyone in my group would be entirely comfortable here either."

"We're good people here," Rick insists. "Your father was on drugs and beat up T-Dog. He had to be stopped."

"Didn't say he didn't deserve a good beating, Officer. But none of it was worth the death sentence your group tried to dole out."

T-Dog looks anguished, surprising Shane with the evidence of the beating Merle gave him still so obvious. "Um, is he going to be okay?" the black man ventures.

Scout looks surprised at the inquiry. "He's blistered to a dangerous level from the sun and was suffering from heatstroke when we got to the roof finally. The drugs in his system sure as hell didn't help his case there. But he'll live. Won't be happy for a week or two until the sun exposure heals and he gets through the worst of the withdrawals. We'll manage that. I should ask the same of you." She indicates the damage the man carries. "Got someone who can look you over if you'd like."

"You've got a doctor in your group?" Shane feels hopeful for the first time in a while. He ended up with a group with very few skills applicable to the disaster they are living in now.

"Veterinarian, actually. It'll be amusing to see his face when my daddy puts two and two together on that one. But checking for broken bones and such works much the same. Saved one of his daughters from some..." She glances to the children within earshot. "Really, really bad men. He decided being the only grown man looking after three females on a remote farm wasn't safe anymore, few towns back."

Rapists. Goddamnit, she has to be avoiding calling the men rapists with that look to the kids and the emphasis. That's all they need to have to worry about, Shane thinks as he meets Rick's worried gaze, then some of the other men's. He didn't miss her ambush talk earlier either. The dead didn't shoot guns.

Daryl approaches, reaching out to grip Scout's upper arm. It doesn't seem to be a grab, but more a reassurance that the woman is real. "M'ready when you are."

She tilts her chin toward Shane. "We've been invited to share camp for a few days, til we clear out of Atlanta"

He frowns and replies in the unknown language from before. Replying in kind, the discussion goes on for a couple of minutes in front of their increasingly baffled audience, including a couple of understanding glances to the children by Daryl, before the walkie crackles back to life.

"Gator to Mockingbird. It's a motherfucking herd."

Shane is pretty sure Scout cursed in at least three languages. He knew the Spanish, another sounded like maybe French, but he isn't sure if the rest was all the other language she's been speaking.

"Mockingbird here. How many?"

"At least forty. Still some movement in the distance though, so maybe more. We'd clear out and meet you at the checkpoint, but if they stay on this same path, they're headed right for your current location, next 24 hours or so."

"Load up for a pull-out, but get those capable to the high points and thin out as many as you can. Move out if you need to. I can clear this location if need be. No chances. No noise."

"Acknowledged. No chances on your end either." The walkie falls silent and Scout finally turns her attention back to the others.

"We still don't know why, but these things cluster up sometimes and move out in bigger groups from towns or cities, and they're more vicious than normal when they do. The population Atlanta has, with how close your camp is, an actual herd is a real possibility. If all that's broken off is forty or so, they can handle that, but I'm not taking risks on it being more than that."

She sighs, pacing a little before continuing. "We had to route completely around Macon after we had over a hundred of them on the move south of the city. I know y'all haven't encountered them like that, since they haven't been leaving Atlanta in the same numbers, maybe because of the firebombing, but this camp is like a damned all-you-can-eat-buffet with everyone all spread out." She winces when one of the children began to cry, but doesn't apologize.

"We've made it just fine until now. How do we know that you didn't just lead them out of the city?" Lori demands, Carl clutched to her.

"Lady, if anything riled them up in this direction, it is your group. Officer Friendly here rode into town on a damned horse and firing off his gun like it was some sort of John Wayne film. That kinda racket is like throwing chum from a shark cage with these things. You want to hold on to your uppity pride and sit here waiting on the next herd to come rambling through, be my guest. You're not my family to look after."

"We can go help," Daryl offers as she begins to pace, obviously anxious that she is here rather than with her group.

"Wouldn't get there in time. Gator's good to lead without me there." Hooking the walkie back to her belt, she looks back to Shane. "I can't make you pull up stakes on the possibility they might have more than they can handle, and we'll have at least a couple hours warning if they do have to clear out, but can you please get the children out of the open? Things can be replaced."

Shane turns to Dale. "Dale, okay for the kids to go in the RV? Moms too." The older man nods, opening the door to usher first Miranda Morales and her children inside, then Carol and Sophia. Lori stays stubbornly in place until Rick moves to tug Carl from her arms and push the boy toward the RV. They have a heated, whispered argument that Shane tries desperately not to watch. His brother returned from the dead and coveting his wife is worse now than it was when they first fell into bed together in the camp after the Atlanta firebombing.

Scout stops pacing abruptly. "The duffel bag." That makes Rick and Lori's argument pause. "Faster down the hill and back if I have a ride," she says, turning expectantly to her uncle. Daryl fishes out his keys, heading for the truck. They are gone before Shane thought to suggest going along.

"Probably just an excuse to abandon us," Lori spits out. "I bet she's not even really in the military. Or deserted."

"She's on her third enlistment," Glenn interjects, surprising everyone. He normally avoids confrontation as if it were the plague, especially with the women. It reminds Shane that they have someone with personal insight to the Marine and getting Glenn to gossip is like taking candy from a baby.

"How do you know her?" he asks, interrupting whatever else Lori had been about to say.

The Korean shuffles a little. "My roommate in Atlanta is her younger sister. I never met her dad or uncle, so I never associated Merle and Daryl with the Daddy and Tihu that Cricket was always talking about. I mean, Dixon isn't exactly an uncommon last name, and they didn't talk about their family in camp, so..." He looks guilty that he didn't figure it out. "We've only been roommates since Thanksgiving or so, but Cricket talks on Skype almost nightly to her sister. But Scout? She enlisted out of high school, served in Iraq and Afghanistan both. Got really hurt last fall, purple heart and some other medal you get for rescuing another soldier. She's been at the VA hospital in Tampa doing outpatient rehab."

He pauses, looking around earnestly. "She's the real deal. Her siblings were on an end of school trip down in Florida to see her when things got bad. I really thought they hadn't made it. Been checking our building on my runs to Atlanta, just in case. Even left a message for Cricket about how often I try to do runs so we could meet up if she did make it back to Atlanta."

"What the hell, Glenn? You left details about the camp?" Shane can't help himself from barking out the accusation.

"Well, unless someone's fluent in Korean and breaks into that particular apartment building, we're pretty safe." Glenn squares his shoulders.

"That language she and Daryl kept using... that Korean?" Rick asks.

"No. Um, Chamorro, I think. But I can't swear to it, because Scout speaks like five or six languages, and I honestly don't know how many Daryl might know too. But I know he speaks Chamorro because English isn't Scout's first language. Pretty sure Merle knows it too because I've heard Cricket on the phone to her dad and they don't speak English half the time. That name Scout was calling Daryl - Tihu - that's just the Chamorro word for uncle."

"Where's that from?" Dale asks, curious even as he eyes the road, where the rumble of Daryl's truck returning to camp can be heard.

"Guam. Their mom's from the island originally, met their dad when he was stationed over there in the Marines."

"Merle as a Marine. That's a bit of a scary thought," T-Dog mutters. "But I guess that explains the whole... racist with kids that aren't white. Lots of military guys like wives from overseas."

Any further gossip is interrupted by the truck coming back into camp. Scout hops out, dragging the duffel bag with her and dropping it at Rick's feet. "Can't hurt, even if gunfire's a bad idea normally. Better than nothing. Anybody other than you two cops and the guy with the rifle know how to even use a gun? Because if they don't, friendly fire risk is more dangerous than the damned dead things."

"Yeah, Ed can. He's got a rifle. Andrea's got a pistol. Morales can shoot too. We haven't had the ammo to spare for anyone else to learn," Shane replies as Rick sorts through the bag, fishing out ammo for Shane's gun and passing it to him.

"Best for them to opt for something with a blade or enough weight to crush a skull then. Baseball bat, machete, ax, hell, even a shovel works if you swing it right." She glances toward the road as if she can see all the way to wherever her people are engaging the walkers. "Don't think they'll let anything by unless it's more than they can handle, but just in case."

She reaches behind her, unstrapping a heavy club the length of a cane from her quiver with practiced ease and tossing it to Glenn, who catches it after fumbling a bit. "Shillelagh. Works just like a baseball bat."

"I can't take your weapon," Glenn protests.

Scout only laughs and pats the knife strapped to her vest. "Even if something's too close for my bow, I still have a backup, plus my pistol. And I can replace that just as soon as I'm back with my group." She turns to Shane. "We've got enough extra of the quieter weapons that I can spare enough for everyone to have something if they're willing to learn how to use them without lopping off their own hand."

It is interesting, that she keeps referring to him instead of Rick, Shane thinks. Even as deputies, he noticed people tend to gravitate to talking to Rick first, probably the earnest trust-me expression he constantly wears. Shane never had his kind of optimism. He saw the writing on the wall last night, that Rick will take over, the returning hero who fought his way back to his family and is trying to resign himself to it. He left his brother behind, after all.

But the Marine seems intent on treating him as the camp leader and it is a balm to his ego, especially since she seems to have little tolerance for Rick. If they stay a few days, it will be interesting to see how the two work things out.

"Guess that means you are going to bring your group here for a bit?" Ought to verify that, after all.

"Yeah. Talked it over with Tihu. He doesn't like leaving y'all without some improvements and said it's as good a base as any to finish up our errands here. I'd suggest enough supplies to be able to relocate to somewhere secure. Gated community, school, something with a good heavy fence."

She studies the camp critically enough to make Shane want to cringe. "Those stupid old jokes people make about bears and campers? 'What's a camper in a sleeping bag to a grizzly bear?' 'A burrito' That's the reality now. Out in the open, in tents, people are just burritos waiting on the dead to arrive."

Surprisingly, Rick seems to agree. "We should check out the CDC. They'd be working on a cure for all this."

"You're welcome to go by and bang on those closed up shutters, but from the looks of it, the CDC went into lockdown. Protocol there isn't likely to allow civilians inside, no matter how bad things are outside. If it did, they'd have someone out gathering survivors in the city, and the other group we met, the one with the nursing home, says they've seen nothing from them at all. Just a lot of bodies outside where the troops protecting the facility got overwhelmed by the dead. They've been going by because they figured if anyone had meds, it'd be the CDC, but no luck.

Scout looks pissed and stressed both as she continues. "This whole thing is a clusterfuck of epic proportions. Everywhere we've been, there's no government presence at all. We took I-75 up into Georgia, worked around some of the biggest damned traffic pileups I've ever seen. Made it to Albany, figured we could try the Marine Logistics Base there, but they fell, just like Blount Island and the navy at Jacksonville did. We're on our own, best I can figure. Just clusters of survivors."

"What about Fort Benning?" Shane asks. It is a lot bigger than the bases she mentioned, a city unto itself really.

"Even if they managed to hold on, most of their troops would have been deployed as emergency measures. We've come across uniforms of all branches, hell, even Coast Guard, where they tried to protect towns and resources and were just spread too thin. Military installations are targets now, of the ones who've gone lawless. They know there are supplies, guns, ammo. Mostly the smaller ones like the Guard depots, but if there's not a good chunk of the military there at Benning, I'd be afraid to clear out a safe space there. Be like a sitting duck, just waiting to be raided and everyone knowing where the base is to come looking."

She looks almost apologetic that she's shooting down his idea and adds more details. "Not to mention that Columbus was the third-largest city in the state even without Benning's population count. Some of the survivors I've picked up said they were setting up camps there like Atlanta. No city with evacuation camps seems to have held so far." There is hesitation for a moment as she seems to struggle with how to phrase something. "But if you folks really feel you need to make the attempt to go there, we'll help you get the supplies for the trip. My people... I'm taking them north."

The walkie squawks, and she unhooks it to exchange the same greeting as earlier with the man on the other end.

"Fifty-three dead put to rest," he reports. "Not counting the four that Revere and Badger took out beforehand that didn't seem to be part of the herd. Been clear for five minutes, so we're going to retrieve bolts and arrows and make sure they're all at peace."

"Stay safe," she acknowledges. "When you're done, we've been invited to the camp for while we're in Atlanta. Ranger and I accepted the invite."

"We'll check in when we head your way then. Give us about half an hour."

Scout acknowledges the request and put away the walkie. She looks around the campsite. "I need to park eight vehicles, most the size of the RV here, most pulling twenty foot or so trailers. Prefer to circle most of them up, like the old wagon trains. Gives a safer place for tents. Think I can get them over there away from y'all's RV. Provide another point of protection for your camp if we edge up to the trees since ours can be secured."

Shane doesn't even bother to look at the others. Her group has a doctor of sorts and is willing to help them out. "Sounds like a plan."

* * *

_A/N Update 5/8/2020: After reaching the 500k mark, I have begun outlining the sequel, although there's still about 100k to go to close out Part One. If you are wary of tackling a large WIP that doesn't follow a lot of the usual issues, please look at my profile for the plan for the series._

_Although the "Virginia" events of the show are scheduled for the sequel, Virginia does not go undiscovered that long. :)_

_Notes/Warnings: Normally, I will avoid long author notes because I don't want to push up the word count, but since I know taking a chance on a huge WIP is a big leap of faith for any of you lovely folks who made it to the end of this first chapter, this is the exception, not the rule for Author's Notes._

_There's a lot of research behind the story, and I try to avoid big info dumps (not always successfully), but it does take a while for this to pick up steam because it's so AU and a lot of extra has to come in without killing off half the beginning characters for excitement. :)_

_This is very, very AU on the Dixon background. Merle is a father, although a bit of an idiot one in the earlier chapters, and that fosters a lot of changes. The age-gap between him and Daryl is a lot larger, and both of their backgrounds are immensely different in adulthood than the show (as demonstrated with cop-Daryl in this chapter)._

_It will have a redemption story of the Shane/Rick brotherhood: they will **not** lose each other in this world. Lil Asskicker's existence in the world isn't going to tear her family to pieces, and Rick is gonna be one hell of a devoted uncle - her very own White Knight. Both get a lovely romance, but neither with Lori. Although early chapters may seem bashing, Lori does eventually get her own redemption arc._

_There are multiple POVs. Early POV is Shane, with a good chunk of Carol. Chapter 8 introduces Merle's POV. After Chapter 15 or so, regular POVs expand to include several others, particularly canon characters such as Daryl, Glenn, Rick, Tara, Eugene, and Abraham. I take POV requests regularly from reviewers, although I do have characters I just can't write effectively (like Andrea or Morgan)._

_Pairings aside from Glenn/Maggie are generally not the usual ones for TWD fanfic, as I wanted to explore different dynamics rather than the same avenues already done so wonderfully by so many authors. If you're looking for Caryl, Rickyl, Richonne, or Bethyl, unfortunately, none of those are in the plans. Canon LGBT characters will remain as such, although the show couples may not exist (Tara is happily married long before the Virginia survivors are discovered)._

_Many characters - especially children - who died in the show will not die in this story._

_The show's content is brought in hodgepodge and it won't follow the episode timelines. Some comic book characters or backgrounds are used, and there will be a large number of NPCs/OCs._

_Trigger warnings: This is the TWD world, and dark at times. Child abuse/neglect, off-screen non-con, and executions do occur or get discussed as having occurred._

_Current plan: Approx 500k for this story, 400k for the sequel covering the Virginia seasons, and an epilogue set 100 years in the future with excerpts from the diary of Judith._


	2. New Campmates

**July 20, 2010**

~*~SW~*~

As Scout and Daryl step forward to the line of vehicles and begin speaking to the driver of the leading school bus whose bright orange had been obscured with a liberal helping of paint to appear camouflage, Shane uses the moment to step closer to the people gathered near Dale's RV. No one objected openly to the newcomers as Scout detailed a few ideas on areas to go for safety and shared a few stories of time on the road while they waited on the other group's arrival. Her attitude toward the group was brusque with everyone except Glenn and strangely enough, Shane himself. But he figures if objections are going to happen, now is the best time.

"Having them here's going to benefit us," he says, directing it at Rick mostly. Dale is too kind-hearted to refuse the other group, even if they don't actually need to be here. Glenn is a given, considering his personal connections. T-Dog's guilt over the key incident will keep him quiet. Most of the others don't care, too curious about this other group, but Rick has to be on board because he can already see the look in Lori's eye that she is going to raise hell for some reason he couldn't fathom, other than Scout calling her uppity. Andrea may follow suit since she obviously has taken Merle's asshole nature personally.

Rick runs a hand through his wild curls. "She seems like good people, but we'll have to see. No one here seems to like the Dixons."

"Apples don't fall far from the tree," Lori mutters. "Anyone raised by Merle Dixon is going to be as trashy as he is."

"Guess that makes me trash too," Shane says, crossing his arms defensively. He didn't come from the affluent side of town they grew up in like Rick and Lori did. He only managed college because of the football scholarship he landed. Maybe his daddy hadn't been a strung-out racist like Merle was acting in the camp, but he liked his liquor more than his wife and kid, leaving Shane's mother to work two jobs to put food on the table while his dad drank his paycheck.

Rick looks horrified. "Hell no, Shane. You're my brother."

"Cricket just finished her first post-grad year at Emory," Glenn adds. "Had a full ride to Georgia Tech before that." A stubborn look settles on his features. "Being her roommate was a sweet deal for me because her dad was paying the rent and we just had to split utilities and such."

"What was she going to Emory to study?" Dale asks, looking genuinely interested. Jacqui and T-Dog look thoughtful.

"She was going to medical school. Honestly, I don't think we know Merle. The man we saw here just doesn't fit all the stuff she told me about her dad. Guess he's a walking advertisement for all those 'don't do drugs' campaigns they shove at kids."

"Do you know where their mother is?" Rick asks, making Shane realize he should have wondered that himself.

Glenn shrugs, angling to watch where Scout and Daryl have the caravan of vehicles almost situated in a circle, except for a platform truck and a midsize SUV that is parking at an angle back toward the road. "Cricket said her parents divorced when she was pretty young, like kindergarten age. She didn't mention her mom at all other than to tell me that, so I don't think she's been around for a long time. Maybe she went back to Guam? I dunno."

Whatever else they are going to get out of Glenn is interrupted by someone bailing out of the second RV as soon as Scout finishes a conversation through the driver side window after it is parked. The tall brunette makes a beeline for Glenn, hugging the guy so hard Shane is afraid he'll end up with broken ribs. Glenn doesn't complain, grinning ear-to-ear and returning the hug. "I knew you'd be okay!" she exclaims. Her overwhelming enthusiasm is a bit contagious, especially with the smile that graces her features, more rounded than her sister's but with the same jet black hair and vivid blue eyes proclaiming their relation. There's been a lot of reunions of those thought dead or missing these last two days. "Oh God, I gotta get back to make sure Daddy doesn't barf up that last round of electrolytes or pull out his IV, but we so aren't leaving you behind again, pizza boy!" With another squeeze, she is gone before anyone got in a word of greeting, jogging back to the RV and disappearing inside.

"Is she always so..." T-Dog trails off, clearly a bit overwhelmed by the new arrival.

"Energetic?" Glenn finishes with a grin. "Yeah. I used to look for her stash of Red Bull until I realized that's just how she is."

More people began to venture out of the vehicles, but no one else approaches the quarry camp residents. They watch Daryl pair off with another brunette woman, who is geared up in a lighter version of Scout's outfit, looking more hunter than military, especially with the bow slung on her back. They head in one direction out from the circle of vehicles, while a young man in Marine gear and a different woman head in the opposite direction.

"A bit geared up to be hunting," Shane mutters, but before he can call out to Scout, she finishes an intense conversation with a tall black man in similar Marine gear. The man climbs up the ladder on the side of one of the buses, taking a stance to look out into the scraggle of trees, obviously keeping watch, a crossbow strapped to his back. A woman climbs one of the RVs, plopping down one of the stadium chairs used for back and butt support at ball games, and takes a seat with her legs dangling off the side, staring off down the approach road while she fiddles with the compound bow she carried up. A double watch. They are definitely taking security seriously. Two men and two women approach the deluxe livestock trailer one of the trucks is towing and begin tugging things off that remind Shane of a heavy-duty version of the temporary fencing used at big events, but no one else left the vehicles. Scout unslings her bow and hooks it onto the back of the trailer, shedding the combat vest and rolling up her sleeves on the BDU shirt. She leaves the vest and bow to head back their way.

"Alright. Got everyone underway to set up camp," Scout announces. "Hope you don't mind that I sent folks out to do a perimeter check. The girls are still learning the ropes on how to do one. This place will be good practice for them."

"You sent girls out into the woods?" Lori questions, tone full of censure.

The look Scout levels at her would make a lesser person cower away, but Lori always had more than her share of piss and vinegar to go around. "The lack of a penis doesn't make them incapable of securing a camp. Only advantage that damn appendage ever gives is the ability to piss on a tree outdoors instead of having to do a tripod squat."

Shane isn't sure who coughed out a laugh, but he actually suspects Andrea. Even her anti-Dixon sentiment can't override her blatant feminist ideals, apparently. "Not our business as long as her people are good with it," he states. He wondered if Lori realizes the irony of her objection, considering how much time they spent in the woods.

Scout meets his gaze assessingly and waves a hand toward the two people atop vehicles. "The two standing watches are Jamie and Karen. He's the one that was on the radio earlier, otherwise known as Corporal Nichols. If you can't find me for any reason, he's my second for our camp. The other guy on patrol is Danny, and he's our third Marine. Good kid, didn't even have a full year in the Marines under his belt before the world went to hell. The girl with him's Tara. She was a rookie officer down in Warner Robins. Literally still in her first ninety days on the job. The other girl's Maggie. She's one of the vet's daughters and was doing solo supply runs before we arrived at their farm." She slides those pale blue eyes back to stare at Lori. "Both of which are over twenty and plenty old enough to decide what roles they want to take on. I'd served in a war zone by the time I was their age."

Dale opts for peacemaker. "As Shane said, it's not our business as long as it's what they want."

"There are no idle hands in our camp, and even the kids keep pretty busy. Not going to send the actual kids on patrol though. Merle should be pretty much confined for the next day or two. The medically inclined folks have him on an IV and are getting electrolytes in him as they can, and I'm pretty sure they still have him on that muscle relaxer they started so he'd quit shivering so bad his teeth rattled. A couple folks have been taking turns keeping his skin wet. We've got the power from the solar panels to run fans, but not feasible to keep him in air conditioning." She indicates that the four largest vehicles all have a full array of solar panels. Even the school buses were modified with solar panels on the roofs. "I think they'll be happy enough once he stops looking like he's pissing tea, since they got his temp down from 106, but all that combined with the withdrawal means he's not going to be up and around right away."

"Oh my god. That fever is like coma level," mutters Jacqui, looking horrified.

"Yeah. Well, luckily, we've got plenty of saline, for now, to keep him hydrated. Being close to a water source was one of the reasons I accepted the offer to stay. Makes it easier to keep his temp down. Daryl's going to go through his things again to make sure he didn't miss anything the last time he destroyed his stash. How the hell he found more on that run, I'll never understand."

"Do you mind if I ask what they're doing?" Dale asks, motioning toward the quartet with the fencing pieces. Each piece is being hooked into clamps to the rear of one vehicle and the hood of the next. They dropped a panel on one of the buses that obscured the space below the vehicle between the front and rear tires and also pulled a heavy mesh screen between trailer and towing vehicle to cover the gap above the hitch.

"Fencing the camp. We have a couple of folks we rescued after one of the dead somehow managed to go under an RV and ended up biting someone on the ankle. So we don't leave any gaps. Watch standers can only keep their eyes peeled in so many directions at once."

"And if you had to leave in a hurry?"

"Everything can be released from inside if it's not safe to be on the ground. Better to lose the materials than get someone hurt. They'll leave the opening closest to this camp as an entry point, but everything else is sealed unless you can climb the fence panels. As far as we've encountered, climbing is something the dead can't do. Makes it reasonably safe for those who sleep in tents, because even with all that, there are not beds for everyone anymore, and we're already a bit longer of a caravan than I'm comfortable with. The rest will pop out when the fencing's done. Everyone's always a little jittery after a herd. I don't know if you noticed or not, but the drivers all stayed put except for the Subaru. Every vehicle has at least two people who can drive it, which is tricky with everything but the SUV. Even the two younger teenagers could manage that one, but I sure wouldn't want either of them attempting one of the buses."

"How many kids do you have in the group?" Rick asks, looking curious despite himself. Shane knows her lack of consideration toward him probably rankles with his partner.

"Six teenagers old enough to drive, two that aren't. Six kids that are twelve and under. Youngest is three, and you'll see him with a variety of guardians because we found him and another girl not far outside of Atlanta. Her mother got them out of Atlanta when the refugee center fell, but she got bit. If one of the kids is misbehaving, just snag whoever's on the RV watch to identify which adult to report them to."

"And the adults?" Shane asks. Fourteen kids was a lot, even if several seemed to be older teens.

"I don't know if you'll manage to memorize them all, but the ones you'll need to keep in mind I haven't already named are Patricia." She pointed toward one of the women helping fence the camp. "She serves pretty much as quartermaster for us. She'll put together some supplies to bring over as soon as she's done if someone can go let her know what's needed and useful. Bearded fella helping her is Ryan. He's the wildlife officer from Florida. He and Sam." Another gesture toward the blond man in the driver's seat of the truck pulling the livestock trailer. "They're good hunters, so they won't be in camp all the time. Then there's the medical personnel. Hershel's the white-haired fella driving the closest RV. He's the veterinarian. Lilly was an oncology nurse before. Zach just finished his paramedic certification but hadn't sat his state exam yet. Cricket's in med school if Glenn didn't share, and Jamie's got three years on a degree in kinesiology. Hershel's been working all three of them with what he is calling a medical apprenticeship. That's Zach and Lilly on the other fencing pair."

Her walkie chirrups, with a different male voice this time. "Revere to Mockingbird. We met at the central point and no sign of anything other than squirrels so far. Gonna switch off partners with Ranger and rotate back. Taser bagged her first rabbit too. Nailed it with the slingshot even."

"Give her my congratulations. See you in ten."

The quarry camp kids and mothers are back outside now, drawn by curiosity about the newcomers. It means Carl is no longer able to keep quiet. "Why do you call each other the code names?" he asks.

Unlike her cool or even antagonistic looks toward his parents, her attention to the boy was bright and smiling. "It's a privacy thing, in case anyone is on the same frequency. Most of them are pretty basic, like we call Jamie" - a hand waves toward the man on watch on the bus roof - "Gator because he grew up in Louisiana, and Revere on the radio just then, he grew up in Boston."

"And Ranger is Daryl? Because he's a wildlife cop, right? Taser... I bet that's the girl you said was a rookie cop."

"Got it perfectly."

Carl grins, happy with his deductive skills and the attention of a new adult. "Can't figure out Mockingbird though. Is it because they're really strong and fierce? The ones that nested by my school playground used to flog kids if they got too close to the nest, and they killed a crow one time."

"You know, I may borrow that for the next time someone asks me that question. But really, it's after a book. There's a book called To Kill a Mockingbird and the main character is called Scout. The guys in my unit weren't as creative as you."

"Is Glenn really going to be Kimchi Pizza then? And what's kimchi?"

Glenn sputters.

"Kimchi is a very distinctive Korean food, and Glenn was working for a pizza place in Atlanta. So it was a way to let my sister know who I found, without using his name over the air. We'll probably pick something nicer."

"Thank God," Glenn mutters.

"Just don't let the kids make suggestions. Cricket was nearly Doc McStuffins if they'd had their way. She's much happier that we ended up calling her Kersee instead."

Carl giggles. "Does she use a lot of bad language?"

That actually brings the adults back into the conversation. "Jackie Joyner-Kersee," T-Dog murmurs. "He's too young to know who she is, I bet." When Scout arches a brow in question, the man shrugs. "Glenn mentioned she ran track at college. It wasn't a big leap."

"Good guess. She just about cried watching the Atlanta Olympics when her hero couldn't complete the heptathlon." She turns her attention back to Carl. "Ask your dad to tell you more about her. But T-Dog's right. It's for the Olympic track star."

"Your sister do the heptathlon?" T-Dog asks.

"Used to. Dropped back to just hurdles this year. Never thought it'd turn out to be put to good use in a world like this, but makes me glad we all played sports and kept in shape. We were off on a backpacking trip of all things when things went sideways. Came back to civilization to all hell broken loose."

A clang draws her attention to where the fencing project is finished. People began to emerge from the vehicles now, and included among the people were something Shane hasn't seen since Atlanta was bombed... Dogs.

One or more of the kids makes an excited noise. Scout aims a fond smile in their direction before giving a low whistle. All three dogs go on alert. Shane knows one is a hound of some breed and another looks like a pit bull, but he is unfamiliar with the third, a big mottled dog with pale eyes. When Scout calls for Augustus, it is the unfamiliar one that responds, trotting forward obediently to sit next to her at a hand command. He wears what Shane realizes is canine armor and a thick neck guard, and a glance to the other two confirms they wear similar items.

"Big fella here is Augustus, but he'll answer to Augie just fine. He's a Catahoula, one of the best hog dogs you'll ever see. Turns out to be a pretty good breed to have at your side against the dead. He's also a big marshmallow when it comes to kids, so you're all welcome to pet him." Not one kid looks for parental permission before plopping next to the patient dog, exclaiming over his blue eyes. "Other two - Liberty is the hound and Maverick's the staffie. Liberty and Augustus have been in my family since they were pups. Maverick, we rescued out of an abandoned animal shelter around Valdosta and he chose to stick with us. We take one or both of the hunting dogs on supply runs, but Maverick's the camp guard."

"Why is he wearing this?" Carl asks, indicating the armor. "It looks like the vests the K9s wore at my dad's station."

"It's very similar, although his is a catch vest meant to protect him originally from the tusks of feral hogs. It gives him some extra protection when he goes on supply runs now. It's got Kevlar in it just like police dogs wear."

"Does he have to wear it all the time?" Sophia looks sad at the thought of the dog constantly in the vest.

"No, we'll take it off in camp. He was just geared up because we were in the vehicles and that usually mean's he's on guard. They'll all keep an eye on things since they can hear and smell things long before any of us people can, so if they tug at your clothes or get between you and the woods growling, then get to your parents right quick or wherever they want you to go for safety." The four kids all nod solemnly, and the dog is living up to the marshmallow claim, leaning into the affectionate petting with obvious joy. Shane notes he probably outweighs the Morales kids and came close on Carl and Sophia. He can see a definite advantage in having canines in the camp.

She turns her attention back to the adults. "Glenn, if you'll snag you a helper and meet up with Patricia at the bus closest to the livestock trailer, she'll get some things together. I'm guessing if you were doing supply runs, you know what's most needed."

The young man nods, glancing between Jacqui and Carol, before spotting Ed and then motioning to Jacqui. "Let's go have the world's easiest supply run," he jokes and the older woman laughs, following him agreeably.

Shane takes a look at the still too pale face of his best friend and sighed softly. Rick will never ask for himself. "You said your doc could look over T-Dog, right? Think he could give Rick a check-up? Your uncle wouldn't have known since he was out of camp, but he was in a coma recovering from a gunshot wound when all this went down, only been awake a week. Keeps favoring his left side where he got shot." Lori makes a disgruntled noise, as if she wants to object but knows it is petty.

"Sure. Since there's two of them, why don't I just sent Hershel over here?" She studies Rick, and her gaze is a little less cold than it has been in facing him. "Maybe Jamie too. Once upon a time, you'd have had a month or two of physical therapy just for the gunshot alone. Bet you've been running on nothing but adrenaline all this time. I was lucky when this one happened to be able to rotate out of the field for a couple of weeks." She taps a raised, twisted scar about two inches above her right elbow. The movement brings Shane's attention to several small scars - some that look like burns - that decorate what he could see of her left arm. Those look a lot newer, similar to the ones on her jaw and neck. "And that it was an AK-47 and not an M16."

Rick sighs softly, looking more tired than Shane has ever seen him. It is as if mentioning he'd pushed his body beyond all limits has made him realize he exceeded his limits. "I don't think we really have time for PT in all this"

"Consider it a daily exercise routine then, because keeping in shape now is more important than any yearly physical you had to pass for the sheriff's department. Jamie can pull off my plan from the burn center in San Antonio to start with. Everybody has a plan to follow with my people, even the children since not everyone was a cop or military or athlete. For example, everywhere we've camped, we've worked on the kiddos' climbing skills. Several just aren't big enough for it to be safe to take on a dead one on the ground, so they've all been taught that if they can't get to an adult or a vehicle, climb the nearest tall object - whether that's a tree or a fire escape or a gutter spout on a house - up they go. That buys time for adults to come to the rescue. The only one who can't manage is Andy, the three-year-old, which is why he is never away from an adult, although based on how we found him and Isabelle, she's capable of climbing a tree with him wrapped around her. I've seen a lot of bravery the last couple of months, but I'm not sure anything beats seeing a fourteen-year-old girl twenty feet up a tree with a toddler tied to the trunk by her shoelaces so he wouldn't fall to the half dozen dead swarming below the tree. Said she got the general idea from a video game."

"Sounds like you run a bit of a boot camp over there," T-Dog comments. His tone is respectful enough that Scout quirks an assessing look his way.

"I figured going into this that if I wanted to keep civilians reasonably safe, they had to have skills. I don't expect everyone to drop and give me forty push-ups, but upper body strength and endurance are both as important as teaching them weapon skills. Lady up there on watch, Karen? She was a school teacher before. Now she had a bit of a head start because she was taking those overpriced classes at her local gym. Nowadays, I think she'd stand a good chance on Parris Island." She flicks her gaze to the heavy-duty wristwatch she wears. "I need to rack out before my watch shift. Anything you need meantime, Jamie's your man."

She strides off without waiting on a reply, pausing only to collect her vest and bow before disappearing into the same RV her sister had.


	3. Good Neighbors

**July 20, 2010**

~*~CP~*~

Carol isn't entirely sure on believing her eyes when Glenn and Jacqui return, carefully navigating the less-than-level land with two dollies loaded with boxes. Three young men, who look to be still too young to shave regularly, follow with their arms loaded with boxes. A teenage girl trails after them with a big plastic department store bag, her expression exasperated as she followed the boys. The girl zeroes in on Carol for some reason out of the women, sliding around the others to bring the bag to her.

"The boys are being stupid and couldn't just loop this over one of their arms. It's so immature." That remark is definitely directed at the teenage boys, who all flush.

Already suspecting what the contents of the bag are, Carol gives the girl a relieved smile when looking inside confirmed a decent assortment of feminine hygiene products. Glenn has tried his best to look for them, but he has never been able to bring anything back in quantity, and while Carol doesn't need them anymore and Sophia doesn't need them yet, she knows the other women will be grateful not to have to improvise. "Thank you. Glenn will be grateful not to have to hunt for these for a while."

The girl beams proudly, flicking her blonde braid over her shoulder. "Glenn and the other lady were both concentrating on food, but the surplus of these were on the trailer behind the watch RV. The boys have the other hygiene stuff - toilet paper, soap, toothpaste, water tablets, and stuff like that. I put in a couple different types of deodorant because I wasn't sure what everyone liked and we have probably enough for our group for two or three years. My daddy will bring over some vitamins and first aid supplies when he comes over. He's in charge of those supplies. Oh! I'm Beth." She sticks out her hand.

Carol shakes it, amused at the girl's bubbly personality. "Carol. My daughter Sophia is the one over there with Glenn and Jacqui." Those two have given Sophia charge of the food inventory notebook, and her look of fierce concentration as they passed food to Dale in the RV is adorable. No point in telling this girl about Ed.

"The boys are Jimmy, Ben, and Billy. Jimmy was staying with our family on the farm when everything went bad because his foster family left town. Ben and Billy came up from Valdosta with their parents and the Dixon group. Patricia says if y'all need anything else, to let her know since we've got plenty of extras and Scout is going to do more supply runs here."

"We'll be sure to let her know." Carol glances uneasily to where Ed has wandered up to inspect the food arrival. He shouldn't be that upset about her talking to a girl not much older than Sophia, but he is unpredictable at the best of times. She doesn't want his attention on the kind teenager. "I'll go put these away. Thank you again."

Beth smiles, taking the soft dismissal in the spirit intended, ambling back toward her own camp and stopping to chat with the woman sitting watch on the RV. The three boys pass their boxes to Jim and Shane and scamper after her as if their protector abandoned them. Carol sidesteps carefully around Ed, offering the bag to Dale. The older man looks inside and smiles, looking a little relieved. Since he seems to have adopted Andrea and Amy, Carol figures he worries about such supplies more than any of the other men in camp do.

"Look, Mama. There's a whole bunch of SpaghettiOs with meatballs," Sophia announces. Carol gives her a gentle smile. Her daughter adores the canned pasta, one of the few 'luxuries' Ed allowed the girl because they were so blessedly cheap.

Glenn laughs. "Patricia pretty much begged us to take them. Some place they found had like twenty cases, and she wanted to make room for other things, so she gave us two cases. Both buses have been modified like rolling grocery stores, shelving and all. Apparently, the younger Marine was trained in logistics, so they've got some expertise in stocking up and traveling as a large group. Patricia said they can help us modify something like that for us, either a bus or a box van, since using Dale's RV is problematic for larger amounts of supplies."

"Hell, they even sent over toilet paper," Shane remarks, making several people laugh as he flourishes a package of Charmin from the box he has.

Jacqui pauses after handing Dale a couple bottles of olive oil. "This stuff is nothing compared to what's in that livestock trailer," she says with a grin. When that gets everyone's attention. "Chickens. Apparently, the front half has been modified to keep sound muffled and all, but they've got a dozen hens and two roosters in cages in there. Patricia says they have crow collars on the roosters, and that while there weren't usually enough eggs to really share out for the adults, she'd send some over for making cornbread and for the kids to have a bit of a fresh scramble tomorrow. They couldn't really transport the other livestock from Hershel's farm, but the chickens were small and simple enough."

"Good eating if something happened where you couldn't keep up with them too," Shane comments.

"What's good eating?" Rick asks. He has finally emerged from his tent, where he and Lori retreated when a discussion turned somewhat heated, leaving Carl with Carol and Sophia.

"They've got chickens, Dad. Can we go see, if it's okay with them?" Carl pipes up. Rick looks uneasy, but caves under his son's hopeful expression and nods. Sophia declines at first until Carol gently takes the inventory notebook and shoos her away to follow Carl.

Carol keeps her eyes on the children until Beth obviously volunteers, leading them into the livestock trailer to the less visible area at the front. Jacqui follows her gaze, pausing in handing over food. "It's like they just took the apocalypse and rolled with it," the older woman remarks.

"I wonder if that's a topic they cover in the Marines... 'what to do when the world goes to hell'?" Glenn adds.

"They are treating it as a warzone or maybe a humanitarian disaster like a hurricane," comes Morales' reply from above, where he is sitting watch. "No supply chain coming from higher up, so they are creating their own. They really don't expect any help to be coming, at least not for a while."

Rick turns to Glenn. "She was talking about taking her people north. Do you know what that's about?"

The Korean shrugs. "Her dad owns a big property up north of Atlanta. She must be thinking she can keep it secure. I don't know much about the place. Cricket said normally she'd invite me home for Christmas, but they spent last Christmas in San Antonio because Scout was still at the burn center then. She didn't transfer to Tampa for the rest of her rehab until February, around Valentine's."

"I know we shouldn't be nosy," Dale says softly, "but what happened?"

"It was the same week I moved into the apartment. IED explosion somewhere in Afghanistan. It was bad enough they couldn't treat it in Germany, so I guess San Antonio's like the only burn hospital for the military. I dropped Cricket off at the airport but didn't meet any of her family then. The whole family was out there about a week before she came home, once they knew Scout was going to make it. Then she went back as soon as the semester was up and stayed til it started again, so her dad could come home after Christmas. I know her uncle took leave to go out after that until Scout transferred to Tampa since it was the closest polytrauma center to Georgia. It was kind of a crazy shuffle to hear about. I don't even want to know what the airfare cost."

"Polytrauma?" Carol asks softly, hoping Ed will just chalk it up to his usual claims of her being stupid. He doesn't like her asking questions, even if he does quiz her on what she overhears by most of the others letting her fade into the background.

"Um... it's when there's more than one thing they are treating you for. Kind of hard to miss the burn scars." Glenn shivers. Carol wonders just how much he knew that he isn't sharing. Burns alone sound horrific enough, but to have the adult family members standing vigil for what sounds like months, it was bad. "If all this hadn't happened, she'd be back on active duty by now. The trip was because she was finally discharged and was taking leave before reporting back to North Carolina. Cricket was both cranky and admiring because she was pretty sure she'd be back in Afghanistan before the year was up."

"I wonder why they didn't let her have a medical discharge," says Dale.

It is Morales who answers. "Military will figure out a way to keep someone with the right skills if the person wants to stay. Didn't you mention languages, Glenn? A polyglot who doesn't mind deployment is worth keeping, especially if they don't have dependents. Air Force wasn't hurting for Spanish speakers by the time I got out in '06, so we lost our extra pay for it if it didn't directly impact our MOS. That was the year they raised the cap to a grand a month if you spoke two or more languages they thought necessary."

"I know she speaks fluent Arabic because Cricket called her a big nerd for giving up part of her summers in high school to take Arabic classes. Then Cricket ended up doing the same to pick up Korean in college because she kept seeing a need for it volunteering at the hospital. She spent four weeks in Korea last summer. They both speak Spanish too, probably the younger ones as well."

"That'd get her on their good books. Post 9/11, they were always looking for Middle Eastern language speakers. They have studies about people who are bilingual before school age being the best at picking up new languages. Sounds like she fit the profile." Morales looks thoughtful as he keeps watch.

They continue passing food to Dale as the men speak, and Carol is feeling a trickle of hope regarding food for the first time since they made camp here. If the other group can teach theirs how they do this, she'll worry less about Sophia going hungry. It isn't like Ed will prioritize their daughter over himself on his remaining stash of MREs. Just this load of food will feed them for two weeks with Carol and Jacqui's careful rationing - and full meals at that. What Carol is logging is a good variety too, not just random items Glenn has been able to collect. There's even sugar and powdered milk and eggs, along with boxes of tea bags and jars of instant coffee, things that are more luxury than necessity here.

The last of the non-food items is passed into Dale's care and Ed has gotten bored and gone back to their tent when more visitors approach, this time the white-haired man who was pointed out as Hershel the veterinarian and the younger Dixon girl that was Glenn's roommate. Hershel carries a large bag like Carol has seen EMS personnel carry, while Cricket has a reusable grocery bag laden with something and a large red duffle clearly labeled as 'emergency kit'.

The older man stops at the group, studying them for a moment. His gaze is assessing in a way that almost makes Carol uncomfortable, and perhaps she is sensitive to men's moods, but she gets the feeling he doesn't necessarily want to be here. It is the same feeling she got from nurses and doctors the few times she sought care and avoided their wishes to report Ed. He finally offers a hand to Shane, introducing himself. "Who are my two patients?"

T-Dog leaves off where he's been stacking firewood Shane had chopped earlier when the pair approaches. "Might as well look at me first. Should be a quick one. Think the worst of it is bruises and the cut on my face. Had broken ribs before when I played ball, but can't hurt to check."

Hershel indicates for him to take a seat on an upturned piece of unsplit firewood. "You can take your pick of me or my assistant. She's been shadowing a doctor at Good Samaritan, so she's a fair hand as an assistant so far."

The big man thinks about it just long enough for Carol to wonder if he is weighing the pros and cons of refusing the Dixon girl, all things considered. He finally huffs a sigh. "Might as well let you keep up the training, Miss Dixon."

She gives him a half-smile, putting down the items she carries to rummage in the kit Hershel offered for a stethoscope. "At least you're unlikely to vomit on me. I swear, I did more laundry last semester working at the clinic that I usually do in a year. Thank God for cheap scrubs. Off with the shirt, if you don't mind." As soon as he complied, she works through an exam with gentle commentary, ending with listening to him breathe, completely ignoring their audience.

"I'd be happier if we could X-ray you because the bruising indicates some pretty bad blows to the ribs, but if you've had broken ribs before, we'll just have to go with the educated guess of them being bruised. I saw you were able to stack firewood, so you've got that range of motion too." She reaches for the shopping bag, fishing out a bottle of ibuprofen. "Take these as you need to help the swelling go down and stay off any supply runs for at least another two or three days if you can so we can reassess. That'll give us more time to check if it's a fracture."

T-Dog takes the bottle and smiles at the young woman. "Not sure y'all are planning on being here that long, but I'll follow doctor's orders."

Cricket snorts. "Short of a herd coming through, there's no way my sister's pulling out of here before she knows you're cleared medically. It's a personal debt for us." She gently reaches for his jaw, turning his head to study the bandage over his eye. "I'm going to take the bandage off. I'm guessing y'all just taped it shut?"

"No one knew how to do stitches and we were afraid we'd do more harm than good," Jacqui says.

"Smart move. Still in the 24-hour window to get it stitched up, and while normally it might be better left open, we aren't exactly in the best environment to risk anything like that right at your eye." She peels the bandage off, then eases the butterfly strips off one by one. The wound starts a slow seep of blood, obviously too deep to have scabbed over properly. Another dip into Hershel's kit retrieves a suture kit and a bottle of disinfectant, which she places on the camp chair beside T-Dog. "Here comes the brave part. Do you want to be only the fifth person I've ever stitched up or do you prefer Hershel, who has long since lost count of the critters he's worked on?"

The big man laughs, seeming more at ease the longer he spends in the young woman's company. "I think I can handle being a practice dummy."

"Alright. Next question. Lidocaine or tough-guy approach?"

"No point using up pain killers that might be needed later."

That gets him a nod and Cricket disinfects and dries her hands, before tugging on gloves. Hershel passes her a bottle of saline eyewash to irrigate the wound and then the suture kit. T-Dog gives a soft grunt of pain with each stitch, earning him a sympathetic look from the brunette.

"All done. Three internal stitches, four external. The external ones will need to come out in about four to five days." She rips open a packet of antibiotic salve and applies it liberally, before covering the stitched wound with a clean bandage. "We'll pop this off tomorrow and take a look, but if anything burns or seems off, come snag someone sooner. Keep it covered and dry. Special question. When was your last tetanus shot?"

"I honestly don't remember. Probably the last time I had to have it as a kid. Don't tell me you've got vaccines stashed in that bag too?"

"Fridge in the RV actually. We found a health clinic that had a propane generator as backup power for the medication storage and lifted everything they had for the riskier ones like hepatitis and tetanus. When we get all done here, you can follow me over and I'll get you fixed up." She fishes into the kit again, pulling out a snack size ziplock bag and a bottle of pills, flipping it to Hershel to get a nod of approval. "You allergic to any antibiotics?" When he shakes his head, she begins counting out capsules. "It's clindamycin. Take it three times a day for ten days. Try to take it with water if you can." T-Dog nods and accepts the baggie, tucking it into a pocket as he tugs his shirt back on.

Hershel waves a hand at Rick. "I'm told you're a week out of a coma after a gunshot wound," he states as Rick switches places with T-Dog and Cricket steps away, appearing that she doesn't intend to work with Rick. The former deputy is already unbuttoning his shirt without further instruction, shrugging it off to reveal a frame that has definitely suffered from his time in the hospital. "Any idea of how you made it so long?"

"Not sure about that. But there was a nurse on the floor who'd been... attacked. I kind of wondered if she'd stuck around and took care of me. Maybe she hid from the soldiers or was gone and came back. I don't really know." He lifts his left arm obediently as Hershel urges him, letting the veterinarian peel away the bandaging on his side. "There was power here and there, but it was erratic. None in my room."

Hershel studies the mostly healed wound. "I'm guessing being bedridden slowed recovery. You were shot when?"

It's Shane that answers, his voice hoarse. "May 24th. The soldiers gave up on the hospital on June 5th, and the main power cut out then. I couldn't get any vitals."

"Understandable. Without any monitoring equipment, it could have been tricky for non-medical personnel, maybe even for them." Hershel begins listening to Rick's chest after taking his pulse. "But I agree someone was taking care of you since that leaves a month and a bit unaccounted for. If you woke up a week ago, someone had to be getting fluid and nutrients into you. Depending on the hospital set up, they may have had enough emergency generator power to keep a limited part of the hospital going, especially if everything unnecessary was turned off. The biggest challenge would be keeping you cool, but if the generators were natural gas, that might go longer and allow some air circulation if the gas pipeline held near the hospital. Did the hospital still have water?"

Rick nods. "Yeah. Made myself sick drinking too much too fast when I was still disoriented."

"Then there was an electrical source somewhere, more than one. Most municipal water systems are dependent on electricity to continue to provide water. It's possible that the electricity came back up after the evacuation if essential personnel stayed behind to get it back."

"We had that big hydro plant up the river." Shane looks thoughtful. "Buddy that worked up there used to brag that it could run for years as long as the dam didn't get clogged up. There was an explosion at the hospital when the power went out in Rick's room. Might have damaged the infrastructure there."

"Did you have a nasal feeding tube?" the vet asks. Rick shakes his head. Hershel hums softly, dropping his stethoscope back to his chest. "Breathing's clear. I'd feel better if I had your records, but from what I can see so far, you're undernourished and dehydrated, but otherwise as healthy as can be considered normal under the circumstances. I'm going to guess they had you on peripheral parenteral nutrition via IV, since there's no evidence of a PEG tube or central venous catheter and you didn't have a nasal cannula, probably without whoever was your caretaker being able to adjust the nutrients every few days. I'm going to recommend gradual exercises to rebuild lost muscle and extra protein intake on top of regular meals. Your immune system is at risk right now, and I'm surprised you didn't experience any refeeding syndrome after so long. My recommendations will act as if you are, simply because I don't have the medical setup to test your blood."

"I don't want to take extra food for myself," Rick protests.

Cricket levels a critical look at him as she extends a large can of powder. "You'd rather endanger everyone by being in poor shape or sick then?"

When Rick doesn't immediately take the can, looking offended at Cricket's words, Shane does. Carol peers around his arm to see for herself as he turns the label and laughs. "All these years you made fun of me for drinking this stuff, brother, and now you get the experience."

Rick still looks unconvinced but reaches out to take the vitamins Hershel offered. He does a doubletake and frowns. "I'm not over fifty."

That actually gets a chuckle out of the older man. "No, you aren't. But your body requires a larger dose of certain vitamins and minerals than a regular vitamin provides, especially the B vitamins. Since controlling your diet is problematic, these are better."

Shane hands the can of protein powder to Rick, who accepts it reluctantly. "At least it's vanilla."

"The best thing you can do for your family right now is to get better, deputy," Cricket says, looking grumpy. "And we aren't going to leave y'all where anyone's going hungry because you're drinking a couple of shakes a day. And you need to drink two a day because we aren't exactly sitting in the land of lots of dietary protein at the moment. When you look at my sister, do you see her as unhealthy?"

The former deputy shakes his head. "She looks in top condition, actually."

"That's because she's accepted that her system is still in recovery, regardless of finally being free of the medical scene. We've specifically collected the extras to make sure she stays in top shape, and since you pretty much need the same nutritional treatment, the only person you'd be taking anything from right now is her. We've got it to spare because we pretty much cleaned out a GNC inside a RiteAid north of Valdosta. That was the point where we added the first bus to our convoy and left all the cars behind but the Subaru." She grabs the shopping bag and passes it to Carol. "Enough vitamins for everyone for about two months, plus basic meds like Tylenol, antacids, Benedryl, antibiotic cream. Plus bandages and other extras from our medical supplies to supplement this." She hoists the red duffle and passes it to Shane. "That one is pretty much a decent first responder's kit, but most of the meds inside are for one use, thus the bag of the larger sizes."

Carol looks into the bag, seeing the wealth of over the counter medications that all of them had taken for granted just three months ago. There were even packages she could glimpse that were clearly children's meds. "This is so generous," she says softly.

The young woman just shrugs. "Just being decent human beings. And like I said, we cleared out a RiteAid. Plus a few more pharmacies, to be honest. Wish we'd had Hershel and Lilly when we first got started. It wasn't fun at all standing behind the counter with a giant PDR trying to make sure what we took was useful for the space it would take up. There's two pharmacy sized bottles of antibiotics in there. One is amoxicillin, the other tetracycline. Both are broad-spectrum, but I've written basic dosages on the bottles with a sharpie. There's also a couple of EpiPens. If anyone here has meds they need, we can see if we have them, or we'll try to find them on a run."

"If it isn't too much trouble, I'm out of my indapamide." Carol looks at Dale in alarm. The older man hasn't mentioned being out of medication.

"Blood pressure?" Cricket asks. "Were you also taking a potassium supplement? I know they usually prescribed those together at the clinic when I was there."

Dale nods. "I've got some of those left but could use more. Glenn hasn't really had the manpower to get into the pharmacies."

Cricket glances to Hershel. "Scout was thinking of seeing if we could access the pharmacy at the clinic I worked at. Shouldn't need as much clearing as a hospital or bigger pharmacy. I hadn't intended to go on tomorrow's run, but might be best since I've actually been in the building before."

The older man nods and then Cricket turns to Shane. Carol has noticed that both Dixon females seem to have identified Shane as the group leader without any input from anyone, other than possibly Daryl. "Would anyone here have any objections if I took the female half of our camp down to swim and bathe? We've got solar showers, but it'd be nice not to be trying to set a speed record in getting clean while we've got that kind of water handy."

"Can't think of any reason not to. Menfolk will keep themselves up here til y'all get back," Shane replies. She smiles at him, pats Hershel on the shoulder where he is situating his kit, and dashes off, calling out what she feels is good news to the others as soon as she is in earshot.

The white-haired vet refastens his bag, turning a cool, assessing gaze on the still lingering crowd as Rick buttons up his shirt. The feeling that he doesn't care for their group intensifies for Carol - and some of the others too by the way folks shift uneasily. Hershel shoulders his kit, obviously intending to return to his camp without anything further said until Rick speaks up.

"We didn't do anything wrong," the former deputy insists.

Carol can't help herself. The look of absolute judgment that settles onto Hershel's gaze makes her take a step back.

"I'd believe it of the others, but you can't have it both ways, wearing the uniform of a sworn officer of the law and acting the way you did. If you'd left a man behind to die in the old world, you'd have lost your badge and you know it. Accept that you made a mistake and perhaps the bad blood can pass, but keep saying things like that? It'll just be a matter of which person over there finally decides to take a swing at you."

"I don't know what Dixon's said to you," Andrea begins heatedly, only to be interrupted firmly.

"There are currently seven folks over there that consider themselves Dixons, young lady. If you're referring to Merle, he's not been coherent enough to say anything about anyone, and I've not had the pleasure of speaking to his brother yet. What I do know is what the other group y'all left trapped had to say. I know what that poor boy that scaled the side of the building said when they got Merle back to my care, and I promise you, I'd stay far clear of that young man, the youngest Marine. He came off that building with a lot of rage he's not had time to work off yet and he doesn't have the control that the Dixon girls do. Not many people would be generous with your group after all's said and done, but you're lucky Scout has decided there's enough fault to share around and that it should be let go."

"She gets to dictate to everyone?" Rick asks.

"Son, I shouldn't have to explain to an officer of the law about leadership and chain of command. I don't know if you're upset she's a woman or she's related to a man you barely met or whatever is wrong, but you might want to remember we don't have to be here and the only reason no one's kicking up a fuss is because we've all had our share of mistakes since the world fell. You're not going to find a friendly ear against a Dixon in our camp."

"Even if one's a drug addict?"

"Guess you'd best disregard me as well then, Deputy. My drug of choice was always alcohol, and this?" Hershel swings a hand at the world in general. "Sent me off the wagon so hard when my wife and son died and turned that it's God's own miracle I lived to tell the tale. I had a twenty-year chip from AA and I was a deacon at my church. Twenty years sober and my wife and my boy were gone, and I was too caught up in grief to remember that I still had two girls that needed me. Living proof right in front of me wasn't enough, so I can't even begin to crawl inside the head of a man who thought he'd lost every single one of his children and say I wouldn't have done just as bad. For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged; and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again."

Carol grips the cross at her neck, shivering. Hershel skipped the first verse, going straight for the one about even standards. As much as she feels Rick's plight deeply, wanting to do absolutely anything to get back to his family, he was content to take someone else's family away and ignore their own desperation at a perceived loss. They made no effort to go back for Merle and she wonders if they would have had Scout not interrupted the brawl between Daryl and the two deputies. The pessimistic side of her doubts they would have seen any value in it. If they can abandon someone who could contribute food and defense so easily, how can she trust them with her daughter's safety? The Dixons didn't want to be here. You could see that in every line of Scout's body language. But they came here and shared their food and medicine because of the children. It is humbling.

Rick seems at a loss for words and even Andrea looks taken aback. Shane takes a step forward, offering a hand to the older man, his gaze steady and even. Carol isn't sure if it is Rick's return or the arrival of the other group, but the big deputy seems more settled than he's been since they'd come to the quarry. Perhaps it is the presence of hope.

"We'll do our best," he tells Hershel. "Be good neighbors, while it lasts."

The veterinarian shakes his hand. "See that you do." He makes his way back to his camp, leaving everyone in various states of thoughtfulness. Carol isn't sure it will play out nicely the way Shane wants to promise. She startles at the gentle touch on her elbow, meeting Jacqui's troubled gaze. At least she isn't alone in her worries.


	4. Share of Miracles

**July 20, 2010**

~*~SW~*~

Shane has just climbed to the top of the RV, letting Morales off watch duty when a stricken gasp from below catches his attention.

"Oh Mama, that must have hurt so bad," Sophia exclaims softly. She sounds like she is crying or about to cry.

Looking toward where the girl sits playing cards with the other children and most of their parents, Shane can't see anything immediately wrong. It is Carol's own pained gasp that makes him follow her gaze to see where the women of the other camp are returning in the light of the setting sun from their swim in the quarry lake. It takes him a minute to register what has the girl sounding so heartbroken.

Scout is returning up the path in civilian clothing, wearing dark-colored cargo pants and what looks like a heavy-duty sports bra. He had noticed the scarring on her neck, jaw, and forearm earlier, but now the true extent of the burn scars is revealed. Her left shoulder and most of her upper arm are completely scarred, a larger mass than the scattered scarring her uniform revealed. It makes him wince at how bad it would have started out, to leave that level of scarring, and he feels guilty to keep scanning her body, especially after he spots the healed gunshot wound on her left external oblique about an inch above her waistband. Unlike the scar on her arm she'd indicated, this one looks no older than the burn scars. A vertical scar starts about two inches below her navel and disappears under her cargo pants. He shifts uneasily, feeling like a voyeur, although obviously, the woman doesn't seem to mind her scars on display if she is walking openly with them exposed. She seems at ease, talking animatedly with a short-haired black woman as they trail behind the rest of the women.

"She should cover up." Lori's snotty remark draws the ire of Jacqui, who startles out of her own staring episode from where she is standing at the RV door talking to Dale.

"She's got nothing needing covering up," the older woman states firmly.

"She's in nothing but a bra," Lori hisses.

"You think having your bra hanging out of all your shirts is any better?" The retort nearly has Shane fall off his chair. Jacqui doesn't normally tangle with Lori. "Ain't a soul in this camp doesn't know the color of every bra you own. And that's a compression vest, not a bra."

While Lori sputters in outrage, Carol turns to Jacqui. "Like for breast cancer?"

Jacqui nodds. "Had a coworker wear something like that after her mastectomy and reconstructive surgery. But they work for any kind of surgery to the upper torso where you shouldn't wear a regular bra."

He knows it is rude, but Shane can't help looking again, aided by the fact that both Scout and the other woman stop to talk to the man sitting watch on the RV. The burn scar from her shoulder definitely extends under the strap. He feels a little sick to his stomach as he wonders just how far it went. At least there didn't seem to be burn scarring below the bottom of the vest on her rib cage.

"No wonder Glenn didn't want to gossip about it," Carol says softly. She cuddles Sophia close and kisses the top of the girl's head. "Glenn said she was better now, Sophia. It probably did hurt a lot, but you can see she's okay now."

The man who took over watch duty when the ladies went to the quarry lake slid to the ground, leaving Scout to climb the ladder. She pauses halfway up, looking back to reply to one of the children who ran up. Her left arm is extended above her, holding to the ladder rung, while she accepts a water bottle from the curly-haired boy, and she doesn't seem to be in any discomfort from the scarred limb.

"Are you sure, Mama?"

"Yes, sweetheart. When you were looking at the chickens, Glenn said she was better and ready to go back to work when everyone started getting sick. It happened last year and she's been working on getting better."

Carol's words soothes more than just her own daughter, with the Morales kids hugged up to their mother seeming to relax.

Carl looks anxiously at his father, no doubt remembering Rick's own brush with mortality. Rick notices, drawing his son in close for a hug. "Remember they've got medical people with them, son. They looked at me and T-Dog earlier and made sure we were doing okay."

"What?" Lori turns to look at Rick, frowning. "When was this?"

"When you were napping in the tent. The vet and the girl that's the medical student both came. She checked over T-Dog and stitched up above his eye. Hershel checked me over and they gave us some vitamins and medicines for the whole group."

"Don't forget that protein drink he prescribed," Shane adds, causing half the group to look up to where he sits. Rick still hasn't opened the can of powder yet that Shane has seen. "He told Rick he needed extra protein and calories because he's malnourished and still dehydrated." It earns him an exasperated look from his partner, but if making sure Rick follows doctor's orders meant turning Lori's ire on her husband, he'll do it.

"How are we supposed to do that?" The brunette looks actually distressed. "We don't have enough to be worrying about the food pyramid out here."

Rick reaches over to rub her shoulder, Carl still snuggled close where he sits between them. "They gave me the protein powder, and you saw some of the food at supper that they sent over with Jacqui and Glenn."

Carl perks up. "Like Shane's milkshakes, Dad?"

Shane laughs. "Exactly the same thing, buddy, except his is vanilla instead of chocolate."

The boy pats his dad's arm consolingly. He enjoyed the occasional "workout drink" Shane made him when he watched the boy to give his parents some time to themselves on Saturdays. "Chocolate's lots better than vanilla. Even the strawberry is better."

"I happen to like vanilla best," Rick replies. Lori seems to settle at that, although she spares a nasty look for Shane as if him being present for Hershel's visit when she wasn't is somehow his fault. It isn't different from any other look he's gotten from her since Rick returned yesterday. He just has to endure.

Full dark arrives along with the rise of the nearly full moon when a girl heads over with yet another box and one of the cheap festival-style string backpacks slung over her shoulders. Shane realizes he is seeing another Dixon daughter, based on her close resemblance to the two they've met so far. He wishes he'd thought to ask Glenn just how many there are. She sets the box down next to Carol and flutters a hand over it, her focus mostly on Carol and Sophia, but she flashes a smile toward the two Morales kids. The seeming avoidance of looking at the others concerns Shane that maybe not all the Dixons are as forgiving as the two older sisters would indicate. "Patricia saw y'all playing cards earlier and asked Tihu if you had other stuff for the kids. He said not that he'd seen, so here's some games and art supplies and stuff. There's a portable DVD player in there and a handful of movies, plus a solar battery charger for the rechargable batteries in it."

Carol looks into the box, fishing out decks of several card games. From his angle above everyone, Shane can see a boxed chess/checkers game and assumes there are others within the depth of the box. "I haven't thought of some of these in years. Are you certain they aren't needed? Especially the DVD player and charger?"

The teenager shrugs. "We had extras. It keeps the younger ones from being scared if there's dead around and from being bored when we're cooped up or on the road. Plus never know what will be useful as a trade later. Not everyone we met wanted to come with us."

"So you've seen more folks out there than just yours and us?" Rick asks. Shane's idea that she's avoiding the rest of his group solidifies when she deliberately turns away from Rick to direct her answer at Shane instead. Rick frowns, unsure whether or not to be offended, but seems to let it slide based on the apparent youth of the girl.

"Some good, some bad. Good ones were trying to travel to family like we were. Bad ones won't be bothering any more good ones." It's stated matter-of-factly as if the girl has accepted the state of the world and moved on. "You're Deputy Walsh, right?"

"That'd be me."

"Glenn says you're a good man. Tihu agreed." She slips the drawstring backpack off and reaches for the ladder, hauling herself up just high enough to drop it at his feet. It rattles a little, and curiosity makes him reach out to tug it open. He laughs as he sees the half dozen Crosman air pistols and enough BB ammo for a small army. She surprises him by grinning. "I know you were a shooting instructor, before. Figured these would help you teach accuracy here without all the big bangs and wasted ammo."

"I'm almost afraid to ask how you know I was a shooting instructor." He doesn't think it had come up in camp. Most of the inexperienced ones just assume he can teach because he was a deputy, not because he'd taken further training and actually taught.

"You compete sometimes at the IDPA matches. Competitors gossip worse than middle schoolers. Considering I was a middle schooler when I started, I should know." She pops up to the top of the RV, dangling her legs over the ladder, and twists to offer a hand to Shane. He shakes it, impressed with both her grip and manners. "I'm Hannah Dixon, by the way, but most everyone calls me Honey."

Shane laughs. "You might be right there about the gossiping." He wonders just how old the girl actually was, as she doesn't look much older than a middle schooler now. "You sure you can spare the supplies?"

"Yeah. Air gun supplies get overlooked when people are looking for guns and ammo, same for archery."

Apparently, the others have grown tired of staying out of the conversation. "Why did you bring them instead of an adult?" Dale asks.

The girl huffs a long-suffering sigh. "I may look like I'm a tall twelve-year-old, but I'm not. I was an apprentice instructor at my range. Couldn't be a full-fledged instructor til I turned twenty-one, not that it matters now. I can probably shoot better than anyone here except the cops and the Marines. I'm also a level two certified archery instructor. Besides..." She makes a show of looking at her digital wristwatch, and the movement dislodges the pocketed vest she wears over her T-shirt enough that Shane glimpses the butt of a pistol in a shoulder harness. "Not sure it'd be worth splitting the hairs over less than eight days. Can't say something magical is going to make me more or less adult in a week."

The response flusters Dale a bit, because truly how do you say a week makes a difference in the world they were in right now? But the old man perseveres in nosiness. "So were you planning to be a police officer or military like your sister?"

Honey shakes her head. "Nope. Was going to college and then work for my dad. Was going to leave all the world-saving to my siblings."

That is the opening that Shane should use to get an exact headcount on the Dixon children. He thinks Hershel mentioned seven Dixons, but a high-pitched whistle draws everyone's attention to where Scout has the hatch open on the other RV, motioning inside. The signal must make sense to her sister because Honey gives a happy cry of "Daddy's awake!" and is down the ladder and off like the hounds of hell were after her. As soon as her sister disappears back into their camp and another watchstander climbs the ladder, Scout disappears too, although she goes headfirst through the hatch, using her arms to execute a flip into the interior.

"I swear, every puzzle piece we get for that family gives me a bigger headache on figuring it out," T-Dog says. "Was it just me, or was she pretty damn cold to everyone but Carol and Shane and the kids?"

Dale manages his usual devil's advocate role. "If you think about it, she probably isn't comfortable with most of us. Right now, the most impression she has of us is what happened to her father, aside from somehow knowing of Shane as law enforcement from before and noting that both Glenn and her uncle vouched for Shane. Could be why she's comfortable with Carol too, or that she's a mother. Hard to know just yet. The impression Hershel gave was that they are attempting to understand the situation. And she's young enough to not know how to handle that. From the looks of it, there's an age gap between her and her sisters."

"Well, hopefully, that excitement just now is a good sign. Couldn't say anything positive towards Merle before now, but his girls make good impressions," Jacqui says. "Someone did something right."

"How was her being so rude to Rick a good impression?" Lori grumbles.

"Well, considering some of the things Merle spewed around camp, I'm guessing it could have been a lot worse than a cold shoulder," Jacqui says. "She was over here to share without being asked for anything. She seemed to have an interesting case of hero worship for a certain deputy though. What is IDPA?"

"International Defensive Pistol Association. They run competitions at various gun ranges around the country, geared toward self-defense and real-world scenarios, versus the Olympic type shooting competitions," Shane explained. "Most ranges have a weekly competition, and I rotated around a few in the areas around Atlanta depending on my work schedule. Guess that pinpoints them living somewhere reasonably close. I'm trying to remember if there were any teenagers competing regularly, but I'm drawing a blank. Most of the ones I do remember are either cops' kids or aspiring cops, so that could be how I missed her."

"Does her being an apprentice instructor mean anything?" Dale asks.

"Means she's passed a good chunk of classes to convince someone to take on teaching her that young. Could be a favor for her uncle. I've been asked before, but it's not something I wanted to take on while still working." He thought of the pistol he'd glimpsed, decided not to stir the pot if no one else had noticed.

"Do you really believe Daryl's a cop?" Rick asks. The man had made busy setting up the other camp and hadn't stepped foot back over, so Shane could understand Rick's question. His only impression of Daryl was the brawl.

"I'll take Glenn's word for it, yeah. There would have been no real reason for his roommate to lie to him that I could see. And he said he was in region three. Didn't Leon talk about helping out a Sergeant Dixon with a poacher that was taking game in Newton County and was using Lake Jackson to get back to King County?" Shane scans the area he is keeping watch over, enjoying the relief that it wasn't a full 360 degrees at present. Rick nods, obviously remembering the incident as well. "It did always seem like the Dixons were biding their time here, staying apart from everyone, when Merle wasn't trying to piss off everyone off."

"Wasn't acting like a cop when he attacked Rick," Lori input.

"'All I am anymore is a man looking for his wife and son. Anybody gets in the way of that, they're going to lose.'"

Everyone's attention jerks to T-Dog. From the reaction of the Atlanta group, Shane figures the man is quoting Rick. The big man just shrugs, tapping the bandage on his brow. "It's what Rick told Merle after he held the man's gun to his head and Merle said he wouldn't kill him because he was a cop. Merle was down and restrained by then. I'm not placing judgment on Rick for it, because I'm enjoying an unhealthy satisfaction after it being the gun held on me. But it's the same sentiment that had Daryl pulling that knife."

"Grief. Fear that you've lost the last thing worth living for in the world." Morales says softly, cuddling his drowsy son on his lap. His wife leans into him, taking a deep breath. "We have certainly seen our share of miracles these past days. Some are overwhelming." He tilts his chin towards the other camp. Scout has emerged from the RV and is standing at Daryl's Ford, using the bulk of the flatbed truck as a shield between herself and her camp. Her hands are braced against the fender, shoulders shaking.

Before Shane really has time to wonder if something has gone wrong, since Scout certainly seems to be crying, Daryl hops over the fencing behind the RV to call out to his niece. His voice carries, but the word doesn't translate for Shane.

"Che'lu."

She straightens slowly and turns, and with the bright moonlight from the waxing moon, there is little mistaking that she's definitely been crying, but the brilliant smile that spreads over her features means it isn't from grief. Relief perhaps. Daryl spreads his arms and she folds herself into them. The pair are both crying now, drawing comfort from each other in a way unique to close family, and Shane has to look away. Their emotions aren't meant for display. As he looks to Rick, he remembers how it felt when his brother emerged from the truck, and he can tell that Rick feels the same.

It's Amy who breaks through the suddenly somber mood. "Anyone notice that Glenn hasn't come back since he went over to visit?"

Shane can see Glenn if he turns to look into the other camp. The ball cap the young man wears is distinctive. "He was featuring as a pillow for his roommate. Looked pretty content."

"Makes you wonder if they were just roommates," T-Dog notes.

"Her name is kinda weird," Carl remarks. He has a rubix cube out of the game box, toying with it in the firelight.

"I suspect it is a nickname," Dale says. "The younger girl said her real name was Hannah. So I'd guess that Cricket has a more formal given name. Probably Scout as well, although since she mentioned the literary character, it could be her actual name."

"There was a soap opera my granny used to watch that had a girl called Cricket," T-Dog says. "Think she was actually named Christine though."

"Young and the Restless." Carol looks a bit startled as she draws everyone's attention. "My grandmother watched it too. Used to watch it with her in the summertime as a kid. And yes, her name was Christine."

"Hershel said there were seven Dixons, so there's two more, if he was counting Daryl and Merle, or four more if he wasn't," Rick says thoughtfully. "We need to remember to ask Glenn."

"Or be polite and just ask one of the Dixons," Dale suggests. Shane figures he's probably right.

"I really hope Merle doesn't have seven kids, even if the ones we've met have seemed nice enough," Amy says. It draws a little round of laughter from the group.

"Will you go out on the supply run tomorrow?" Rick asks, looking up at Shane.

"Intended to. Figure Jacqui ought to go along as well, depending on how many people she wants to take out."

"Why me?" Jacqui asks.

"T-Dog and Rick could use some rest days, plus I don't know they'd be welcome just yet. You were in Atlanta, but they seem inclined to ignore that there were others in the group. Even with another group here, I don't want to clear out all of the ones who know how to shoot either. Plus you're familiar with Atlanta, and that's just you, T-Dog, and Amy that really know the city well other than Glenn. Didn't figure Amy would want to go on a run."

"I wouldn't be as much help as the others from Atlanta," Amy answers before her sister can voice the objection she obviously has. "I've lived here for six years for college, but I really didn't explore like a native might. Most of the time I went anywhere, it was with someone else driving. I don't exactly have good skills for it either."

"I don't think any of us do, really." Dale pats her hand.

"Yeah, fighting those things out there is real different than anything I ever learned to do before," T-Dog says, shuddering a bit. "Not sure anyone could ever be prepared for the way they smell, either."

"I just hope they can set up a bus for us like theirs," Jacqui says. "Don't know if they have the equipment to do all the welding, although Patricia mentioned the trailers hold a lot of 'hodge podge' they've collected as possibly needed while traveling like tools."

"Every vehicle has spare tires strapped to the roof or trailer tops. Essential with no roadside assistant or tire shops around." It's unusual for Jim to speak up, so everyone looks at him. He shrinks back a bit, but continues. "There's a lot of custom work done on the vehicles and trailers if you know where to look, not just the obvious like the fencing stuff and the grill guards. Those two pickups and the flatbed truck both have big gas storage tanks in the beds. Probably hold 50-60 gallons if they're full. Saw one of the men pull a wheeled gas can, a big one, off a trailer earlier and go put gas in the flatbed, SUV, and the Ford when everyone was just sorting out supper."

Shane knows the man is - or was - a mechanic, since he tinkered with Dale's RV a bit, but he honestly didn't expect him to be so observant. Normally Jim was so distant that Shane had reluctantly trusted Ed over Jim for standing watch. It also gave Carol some free time away from her asshole husband. "Could you make a list of supplies you might need to make sure all our vehicles are road worthy?"

Jim looks around intently, as if he's making a mental tally of the vehicles they have. It's the most life Shane's ever seen out of the man. "Biggest thing will be oil changes to make sure everything's fresh in the systems. Wouldn't hurt if I could test batteries and do other tune-ups. I'll check all the vehicles, but a few of them might be better to replace or leave behind, like your Jeep and the Morales' Suzuki. Both are soft tops. Not a lot of protection to passengers. If we're going to have supply vehicles like theirs, maybe we should plan ones that can carry passengers too. I'm hoping they have welding supplies they're willing to share."

That makes Shane think about the significance that all the other camp's vehicles had modified, heavy-duty grill guards, even the small SUV. Glancing over at the ones he can see best in the moonlight, he realizes that both the SUV and flatbed's guards are dinged up. He bets he would see similar wear and tear on the other vehicle guards. "Guess that's one way to manuever cars out of the way in a jammed highway."

"Or ram through a bunch of walkers," T-Dog says.

"That too." Rick laughs quietly. "I sure wouldn't have minded being able to just run some over. Where would we find some of those big gas tanks? Gas was the biggest problem I had getting to Atlanta. It's why I was on the horse. If we take her advice on getting out of a heavily populated area, gas will be harder to find once we do, so we'd want to collect it up while we're still here around the big jams that probably have a bunch of tanks full of gas. Not that I'm looking forward to siphoning gas."

"Usually need a farm supply store for those, at least where I've seen them before, so we probably can't find any before we leave Atlanta. Those wheeled gas cans may be easier to find. They'll siphon gas too with the crank handle. We used them in the shop where I worked. Probably can find them at a hardware or industrial supply place like Grainger."

"There's a Grainger not too far from here," T-Dog says. "I've picked up orders there on an old job of mine."

"They'll have welders and supplies too. Solar panels, tools, a host of things we can use," Jim adds. "We should ask if they are willing to see if it can be accessed."

"Alright. What about ideas on where we should go? Rick's mentioned the CDC, and I know I've thought about Fort Benning, but with the new information we have, both make me nervous," Shane asks. "How did King County look, Rick? You said there was still some power. If it's still up, that could be helpful getting an area clear and safe."

"We could probably use the station as a base, but if military locations are a target, I'd guess law enforcement would be too. Can't think of anywhere with a strong fence already in place, but it's an idea. At least we know that area well."

"Could build a fence of sorts pretty quickly with those containers that transport on trucks and trains," Morales suggests. "We had a neighbor back home who built a workshop by putting a roof over two of them with a open space in the middle. It'd use a lot of gas, but would be stronger than any fence you could build."

"Rick, we're idiots," Shane calls down. His partner looks up, curious at the sudden declaration. "What about the group camp down at the state park? It'd be dorm living, but we could close off the ones on the peninsula pretty easy with Morales' idea. Double back later with time to fence in the other buildings. Remote enough that I doubt any looters would be interested. And it's not like King County had a huge population. I only left with Lori and Carl because we were told to evacuate to Atlanta."

Even Lori's looking like she's considering it positively.

"We'll put it down as an idea. Might consider other state parks too. They're usually set up with septic, even if we might not have electricity. Wonder how hard it is to do a solar setup like theirs?" Rick is looking towards the other camp.

"Can't hurt to ask if someone will show us how they did it," Jacqui says. "But for now, something tells me that supply run's going to be starting with the sunrise, so I'm going to opt for sleep. You sure someone else can't take your watch shift, Shane?"

"I'll be good. Off at midnight and that's plenty of sleep by sunrise." Shane smiles at her, glad that at least one person thought of the fact he might need to change out a watch shift with going to the city tomorrow. "Besides, doesn't look like I'm the only one standing watch." At the other camp, Scout has returned to her watch shift, and from what he can tell, they're running the same four hour rotations on watch, so she should serve the same tonight.

Jacqui takes note of it as Jim stands and offers her a hand up. "Fair enough. I'll see you in the morning then."

They are the first to leave the campfire, but it triggers an exodus as the others drift off to their tents. The other camp is doing similar. Glenn has disappeared out of sight and Shane figures there might be something to the "not just a roommate" gossip, but they'll find out eventually. If it's true, they can't keep Glenn here. Everyone deserves a bit of love in this world, even if his own has slipped through his fingers.


	5. What Makes Them Tick

A/N: Potential trigger warning... Discussion of Randall's group and the incident he tells Daryl in the show about the father and girls his group found. It's not sugar coated, so skip to the end once Honey is asked to take Carl away from the adults if it is a concern.

**July 21, 2010**

~*~SW~*~

Shane steps out of his tent, feeling groggy from the lack of good sleep, which led to him sleeping an hour longer than normal. Sitting on watch after everyone drifted off to their tents isn't usually a hard thing before the last two nights, but having to listen to Rick and Lori's 'reunions' is making the disconnect from the woman desperately hard to do. His head feels tangled up in all the wrong ways and he can't blow off steam by going to a bar and picking up a woman for the night here like he'd have done before the rare few times he let a woman get under his skin.

Carol gives him a gentle smile as he sinks into a chair, offering him a cup of coffee. He takes a sip, throwing her an assessing glance when he tasted the sweetness to the brew. The older woman is more observant than anyone he's ever met, except maybe his late grandmother. He isn't sure even Lori paid attention to him liking a spoonful of sugar in his coffee, not that they had a lot to spare. It wasn't a priority on Glenn's trips into the city.

"You missed the show," she says, looking amused. "Apparently, they start out their day over there Marine style. Whole lot of exercising going on."

"Seriously?"

T-Dog laughs. "She ain't kidding. Looked like those boot camp videos, shy of everything but a drill sergeant yelling at 'em. Even the kids were doing parts of it, except the littlest one." He indicates a boy barely more than a toddler who was up on the top of the watch RV with a dark-haired woman. Shane feels a pang of alarm at a kid that small up that high until the boy moves and he realizes he is not only wearing a harness of some sort but is hooked to a big eyehook on top of the RV, making it impossible for him to fall.

"Where's everybody?" Their own camp is mostly deserted, with Glenn on watch and just Carol and T-Dog around the firepit where Carol is stirring a pot of fruity-scented oatmeal.

"Ours are still mostly sleeping, I guess. Morales took his family and Sophia down to the quarry to wash up," T-Dog says. "About six of theirs went out on a patrol. Rest of them are eating breakfast, far as I can tell. Nobody's ventured over yet either direction unless you count Glenn stumbling outta that tent over there to take his shift last night." He raises his voice where Glenn could overhear the last bit.

"I keep telling you, T-Dog, nothing happened like that," Glenn protests.

The big man gives Shane a knowing look. "He slept in a tent with a bunch of women. That roommate of his didn't let him come back to his own tent last night. What would you think?"

Glenn growls in frustration. "What kind of asshole would have sex in a tent with a woman's sisters sleeping there too? That's just gross, T-Dog. Besides, Cricket likes girls. She was sharing a sleeping bag with Tara, not me, dammit."

Shane raises a brow at T-Dog, both clearly wondering if Merle - who made a fair number of anti-lesbian slurs toward Andrea when they got into an argument - knew his daughter had a girlfriend. Deciding to let the mystery go for now in favor of teasing Glenn, Shane grins. "That still leaves two sisters for you to be interested in."

The guy actually facepalms. "No. Just no. Honey's a kid and Scout's just terrifying."

The age difference between Glenn and Honey isn't really all that much, but Shane knew guys who were never able to make the mental break from 'friend's kid sister' to 'potential girlfriend'. Apparently, it is how Glenn's thought process goes, although Shane figures it is also a lack of confidence. He is fairly sure Amy would share a tent with the Korean if nothing else because Glenn is the only male her age in their camp.

The reply definitely amuses T-Dog. "Glenn, if terrifying is a turn-off for you, you're never going to get laid."

"Why are we talking about Glenn getting laid?" Andrea asks as she steps out of the RV, blinking at the sunshine. She even glances behind her into the RV, as if she needs to reassure herself that Amy hasn't wandered off to hook up with Glenn.

T-Dog seems to enjoy making Glenn squirm. "Our little Glenn didn't come home last night."

Andrea's gaze sharpens with interest. New gossip for the camp has been in poor supply, Shane supposes. "Oh really? Just where did you 'sleep'?"

The Korean appears to be lost for words, flushed and sputtering, causing even Carol to join in the laughter. Dale and Amy follow Andrea to the firepit area, looking curious.

"Glenn had a Dixon sleepover," Shane volunteers. "T-Dog's giving him hell, but I'm inclined to believe him about it being platonic. He swears one's too young, one's taken, and he's terrified of the third. Does that cover all the Dixon sisters?"

"Thanks," the kid mutters. "And yeah, just three sisters. There's a brother too."

"He the pretty one at the Subaru?" Amy asks, causing everyone to turn to look at the dark-haired guy messing with something at the back of the SUV.

"Holy shit. Dude's bigger than Merle," T-Dog gripes. "Those shoulders... he play ball, Glenn?"

"Yeah. Football, wrestling... and that weird sport with the nets on sticks."

"Lacrosse." Amy supplies the answer. "Used to travel with my roommate to watch the lacrosse games at our sister campus in Savannah. She'd hooked up with a player on the team. It's popular at smaller colleges that don't want to field football teams and about as brutal as football. Her boyfriend managed two concussions last season." Andrea looks a little pissed off at her sister's admiring watchfulness toward the youngest Dixon male.

"Honey had a scholarship to play it at college," Glenn says. "Cricket had told me I was obligated to attend when the season started next spring since it wouldn't be over an hour's drive anymore to attend."

"Scout was talking about up north and gave you that address," Shane notes. Daryl mentioned Region Three and that was east of Atlanta, so he obviously hasn't been living wherever Scout is taking her people. "While I can understand her need for security, can you share a general idea of where that is?"

Glenn is thoughtful for a moment, watching as Carol distributes bowls of oatmeal, leaning over to accept his while still on watch. Shane is beginning to think he wouldn't answer when he finally does. "North of Lake Allatoona." He eats a few bites before continuing, not meeting anyone's gaze as he speaks. "I know you aren't going to want to hear it, but if it weren't for the kids, I'd go with them. We can't stay here forever, especially if the geeks are starting to move out of the city."

T-Dog grunts in agreement, passing his empty bowl to Carol. "I sure don't want to be in a tent come winter, geeks or no, but I don't think some of us would be welcome."

"I don't want to be obligated to any Dixon," Andrea adds. "There's got to be other safe places to go. She was giving us a whole list of ideas yesterday, and Rick and Shane were thinking about that state park."

"Glenn." Dale's voice is gentle enough that the Korean finally looks at him. "We appreciate all you've done for us here, but if where you need to go is with your friends, we'd be wrong to expect you to stay."

"Dale's right." Shane twists at Rick's voice to see that he and Carl have stepped out of their tent, Lori right behind them. He looks away before he can get a clear view of her expression, not wanting to sour his day with the inevitable blame he'll see there. "Maybe they aren't your family, but they sure seem to consider you part of their group."

T-Dog sighs. "I think we're going to have fewer mouths to feed either way. Morales and his wife were talking about going to find their family in Alabama even before the Atlanta trip. And Miranda seems to be studying the other camp pretty intently. I wouldn't be surprised to see her go check them out. I'd probably do the same if I had kids."

"If we can get in the supplies while we have the extra manpower, Glenn, I agree with Dale and Rick. We can't keep you. T-Dog and I might've been giving you a hard time about where you slept last night, but you don't get dragged off into a tent full of females like that if they aren't considering you family and trusting to behave yourself. I think you've been adopted, by the girls at least." Shane has to laugh as Glenn looks a bit floored at that realization after he points it out.

Carol is handing out bowls of oatmeal to the latecomers, including Jacqui and Jim as they joined them when T-Dog decides to tease Glenn again. "Look, Glenn. Your new big sister's on her way over." Glenn throws his empty bowl at the other man, missing by enough margin that Shane knows he isn't even trying to hit him. T-Dog just laughs and retrieves the bowl to add to the other dirties in the bin Carol is keeping.

Scout is back in uniform, with Daryl at her side briefly before splitting off to go to his truck. Shane thinks it might be the first time he's ever seen the man in sleeves. The Marine comes to a halt near the firepit, giving everyone an assessing gaze. He isn't sure what she was looking for, but based on the amount of skin Daryl now has covered, he's thinking it might be their clothing.

"I'm going to take a smaller group on the run today. Cricket says there's a food bank warehouse near here that Glenn confirmed he couldn't get into without more firepower than y'all could afford, which means it's likely untouched. It'll be a safer training ground than an actual grocery store and less rotten stuff to avoid or discard since they usually stick to non-perishables. We're also going to try to sweep the clinic Cricket worked at since they might have a good supply of basic meds in their pharmacy depending on how soon they shut down services."

"How are you going to clear it out?" Rick asks, looking genuinely curious as he ate. "You said guns were dangerous in the city."

"Same way you distracted the masses long enough to get your people out of that department store, except with less human bait." Scout turns to indicate where her brother is working under the hatch of the Subaru's cargo area, just as a radio-controlled drone rises into the air and flies a couple of passes. He is studying the drone, paying his audience no attention. "Jazz. Turn on the squaller."

He grins, pressing a switch to something he has attached to the side of the controller. The drone makes a godawful racket for about two seconds until he lets off the switch. He returns to the test flight, buzzing the woman and boy on the RV to the toddler's extreme delight.

She turns back to her audience. "The drone can stay out of reach and usually leads enough away that we can pick off the stragglers. Can't take on a big mass like at the department store, since getting the attention of that many really does require something big and repetitive like that crazy ass driving Glenn did."

Glenn groans. "You saw that?"

"Nah. But the Vatos did. They were happy to describe the jodido imbécil to us. They were raiding the shops along the street parallel. Had a lookout that got trapped up on that tall building across the street from y'all since he couldn't exactly risk going down the fire escape without anyone to cover for him. He's the one that we could see from the street when we got to the area. Made us get my father off the other roof first. Miguel's a good kid for a former gang member. Gave us a really good description of what went down."

T-Dog looks like he needs a rock to climb under. "How did...?" He doesn't seem like he can finish.

"Couldn't access the building from the inside and y'all were in the one damn building with no fire escape. One of my men has a juvie record for urban climbing. He scaled the outside of the building and dropped ropes down to the three of us on the ground. Radioed back to the group and two drove the flatbed up and we dropped him over the side while a couple of others used the squallers to provide a distraction so we didn't get overrun on the ground. Miguel kept a lookout for us, warned us when the door failed on the second roof access that wasn't padlocked. After, he just dropped off the fire escape into the back of the truck. It's pretty secure with the stake sides in place. We got his people off the other roof the same way."

"How did you even know to come?" Andrea asks. "We radioed, but no one responded."

Scout shrugs. "Y'all are using police radios. Our rigs are civilian, so different frequencies. Heard enough gunfire to figure someone was in a bad way. The four of us were on foot, intending to scope out Glenn's apartment to see if there was any sign of him or where he went, since he was the only reason we didn't bypass Atlanta entirely. By the time we got through, y'all were gone. Missed y'all by about an hour, based off the car alarm. Couldn't exactly get directions out of my father, but we found Glenn's information yesterday morning." Her expression isn't exactly a smile, but Shane thinks it might be close. "Watched y'all for two full hours from that tree over there seeing if my uncle was actually in camp."

"You could have just walked on up," Dale says, looking puzzled. Shane feels a bit queasy that someone literally spied on camp for hours with no one aware and he can tell Rick feels similarly.

"When the only information I had on this camp was pretty damning from a terrified teenager who wasn't a part of it, it wasn't worth the risk. I didn't recognize Glenn from that distance, so I waited. Worked out in the end."

"Hershel mentioned we should stay clear of one of your Marines," Shane says. "He the one with you in Atlanta?"

"Danny? Yeah. That's him there." She gestures to where a guy that looks barely old enough for his uniform joined her brother and is testing out a second drone. "He'll leave y'all be as long as y'all leave him be. He's just still having a time reconciling what desperation will drive men to."

"I'm sorry," T-Dog begins, but she waves off the apology.

"That's a peace you gotta make with yourself, not me," she says, not unkindly. "But Danny climbed onto that roof just in time to stop a very desperate man from sawing off his own hand to get loose of those cuffs. It gave me fucking nightmares even after serving in a warzone, so I don't begin to know what it'd brew up for a kid who's barely nineteen."

T-Dog looks like he wants to vomit. He isn't the only one. Shane wonders how the hell she can stand there and speak to them so calmly. If it was his family up there, regardless of fault, he'd still be out for blood. If the other Dixons know, it would explain Honey's inability to even look at T-Dog and Rick.

"With that considered, I'd understand if you didn't want to help us," Rick says. He sat down heavily on one of the chairs, his breathing a little labored. Lori pets his shoulder, glaring accusingly at Scout for his reaction.

Scout sighs, shifting her weight. "He wasn't left there out of maliciousness. Piss poor planning, but not maliciousness. That said, even if either of you were at full health, I'd be disinclined to take you on the run today. I'd switch Danny out, but he and Jazz are the best with the electronics and I can't take Jazz today in case Hershel needs someone big enough to move our father around. I need Tyreese today and he's the only other one really stout enough."

"How is your father this morning?" Jacqui asks. We heard he woke up."

"Better than expected. Coherent, for sure, which was a worry after the fever. He'll be on bed rest for today, probably one more."

"That's good to hear.". She gives Shane a smile more polite than believing. "How many of us are you planning on taking?"

"Just two. That's already including my uncle and Glenn in the inexperienced part of the group. Glenn knows the area, but not our system, and Tihu hasn't gone on runs with a group. That'll pair my four experienced ones with four that aren't on a buddy system. I was thinking you and one other."

Shane looks over the group for a minute, thinking over what they discussed last night and deciding Jacqui is still the best choice. "Jacqui's from Atlanta, so she's a good choice for a first run."

"Alright. Glenn, I'm going to pair you off with Maggie, Jacqui with my sister. Shane with me. Those are your buddies. Don't get separated." Scout looks to Shane and Jacqui. "Can either of you drive stick?"

Shane and Jacqui both nod. "Good. The vehicles we're taking out are all stick shift, although if we're lucky, one or both of the box trucks Glenn noted at the food bank will have keys and run. More drivers who can drive anything, the better."

Cricket jogs over, BDU shirts and tactical vests to match the ones the Dixons indicated for the supply run were wearing. She offers them to Shane, who realizes Glenn is already wearing a set as he trades watch with Dale. It is an odd look for the young Korean, even more than Daryl in sleeves. Shane realizes that the two vests are different, one with filled magazine pouches the other didn't have. Both have a red molle pouch that indicate it is a small first aid kit and a hydration bladder in the back pouch as well as three other filled pouches. He passes the one without the magazine pouches to Jacqui along with the smaller shirt. A quick check of the other pouches reveals two contain food - one with two packs of 3-day rations he knew were popular with survivalist types and the other with the type of food bars he was more familiar with from the gym. One of the food pouches has a mylar emergency blanket tucked behind the food and the other has a rain poncho. The third has a flashlight, headlamp, a pack of batteries, water tablets, moist towelettes, a small folding knife, something silicone he couldn't identify until he fiddled with it and found it was a collapsible cup, and what he is pretty sure are tubes of sunscreen and chapstick.

"They're hot as hell, but the material is resistant to tearing, which means more protection from scratches and bites. There's a few emergency supplies in the vest pockets. Those are the smaller medkits. Cricket's is a bit better, and Zach will be carrying a full medic kit since he's on bodyguard duty for the run. Water's fresh, about three liters." Scout explains, then reaches out to nudge one of the three magazine pouches. "Your Glock is a 17, right?"

"Yeah, but didn't you say you wanted to avoid gunfire?" Three magazines plus the one he already had in his gun is a lot of backup, especially if he grabs the two from his tent that normally clipped with his belt holster.

"Avoid, yes. But I won't have us unarmed if need calls for it, and only half of us going can use a bow, unless one of you two has a surprise for me?" Shane and Jacqui both shake their heads. "Cricket, go snag one of the Marauders, a tank, and a pouch of the magazines for the deputy." The younger woman jogs off, but a thought seems to occur to Scout and she turns to yell at Daryl. "Tihu, take your personal weapon instead of your duty weapon." Daryl gives her a thumbs up from where he stands with a gun lockbox open on the hood of his truck. He closes it and returns it to the truck, switching it out with a different lockbox. She turns back to Shane. "That'll at least keep us all on 9mm and the same magazines. His service weapon is a Glock 22."

"Thought the Marines used the M9," Rick notes, watching curiously.

"They do if their MOS or rank requires a sidearm issued, but if I've got to draw my gun, I'd prefer two extra rounds, and I'm using a Glock since there aren't any regulations that cover this particular FUBAR situation. Handled a Glock for years before I enlisted thanks to my uncle. Call it sentiment, like you and that pretty piece of anachronism." She nods toward the Python revolver he has holstered and Rick actually laughs.

Shane and Jacqui both suit up during the gun talk. He flexes his shoulders to make sure the shirt won't restrict movement and finds it comfortable enough. Daryl approaches, holding out a wickedly long sheathed hunting knife to Shane and a camper's utility ax to Jacqui as he directs a snarky comment to his niece. "You make it sound like I'm closer to Merle's age than yours with comments like that."

"Aren't you?" Amy asks, emboldened by the curiosity she doesn't bother to try to hide, unlike the others.

"Jesus Christ, no. I just turned thirty in March. M'only three years older than her." The redneck jerks his thumb at Scout. "Merle was sixteen when I was born."

"Wow. And I thought I was a bit of a surprise for my parents when I arrived when Andrea was twelve."

Daryl gives one of his usual half shrugs. "Merle said it was a helluva shock for everyone, but I hafta take his word for it. Mama died when I was two and Merle raised me."

That probably explains the odd dynamic where Daryl is not as confrontational with Merle as brothers usually are and maybe the extreme reaction to him being left handcuffed. Shane has a hard enough time picturing Merle as an actual father, without considering him as a barely legal adult raising his toddler brother, plus he'd have still been a teenager when Scout was born. Shane finishes attaching the knife to his vest as Honey appears with an air rifle slung over her shoulder and the equipment Scout requested, while Cricket sidetracks with others dressed for the run to the vehicles, along with a gear bag she passes off to Daryl.

"Tank weighs about five pounds and has the straps to put across your belly on your vest," the teenager says, offering it over for him to heft it, then helping attach it, "but you can refill the gun at least five times. Sixteen shots per fill, eight per magazine since it's a 25 instead of a 22. 25 pellets will do a pretty effective splat in a deadhead. Extra magazines in the pouch. Try not to lose the empty ones. You know how to use an air rifle like this?" She passes over the rifle and Shane takes it, identifying it. Air guns hadn't really been enough of an interest to actually own one, but he messed around with them at ranges enough to not need a lesson.

"I'm good." He slides the air rifle into place with the strap, letting it lie against his back, testing how it felt against the water bladder in the vest.

"Do they not make noise?" Carl asks curiously.

Honey shrugs. "This one will make a bit of noise because it's got a good size pellet." She unfastens the ammo pouch she is still holding, showing Carl one of the circular magazines. "But it's not much louder than Tihu's crossbow. You've heard it fired, right?" Carl nods. The crossbow did make a distinctive sound. "Well, since the deputy here never took up archery as a hobby, this is the next best thing. He'll actually have more ammo than the archers do since our quivers only hold about 30 arrows, but he's got the added complication of refilling the air tank if he has to fire a lot of shots. People actually use these for hunting medium-sized animals, like if a coyote was trying to hurt house pets or sheep or something."

"And we are going to hope like hell that never becomes an issue," Scout adds. "Honey can demonstrate for y'all if you like, as long as the kids all remember the air rifles that look like this one are not to be handled without an adult." Shane figures the last bit was more for the growing scowl on Lori's face than any real need. Poor Carl was never allowed even a basic BB gun or airsoft pistol, but maybe Rick would let Honey demonstrate if nothing else because he seemed curious himself.

Daryl stands from where he was rummaging in the gear bag with a machete in a back sheath, which he offers to Jacqui, who already looped the camp ax onto her belt. "Hung you another blade on the truck mirror, Walsh," he notes as he hooks a length of lightweight climbing rope and a collapsible grappling hook on the area of Jacqui's vest where Shane's held magazines. Shane looks over to see a machete on the passenger mirror of the flatbed truck, with a compound bow and quiver of arrows laying on the hood. He supposes that meant he is riding with one of the archers, probably Scout herself.

"What's all the stuff for? Why're some of hers different?" T-Dog asks, peering where Daryl is now snapping a paracord bracelet with a compass onto Jacqui's wrist that matched the one that he and Scout already wear. When he hands one to Shane, he realizes it also has a miniature flashlight. That makes him fiddle with it, walking himself through as Daryl demonstrates with his own to their audience.

"Bracelet's made of paracord. Can be unraveled for just about anything you'd need cord or rope for. Light and compass, obvious enough. Mini tool kit and a firestarter. Even an emergency whistle, but obviously that's probably more harm than good these days." Daryl indicates the rope and grappling hook on Jacqui's vest. "She's not going with a gun, but that's a backup plan if we get cornered. Gives her the option to climb if she can. Ax since it's safer for her to have a swinging weapon if she hasn't worked with knives and she doesn't have to get as close. Most of the women carry them." He points to where a similar weapon hangs from Cricket's belt, the opposite side of the belt holster she wears for her gun. "Ax has a few tricks of its own, bit of a backup to the bracelet. Rest of the pouches are medical, food, and basic supplies."

T-Dog looks almost overwhelmed. "Y'all are just planning on a couple hours, right?"

"That's the plan," Scout says, "but as yesterday demonstrated for all of us here, plans go to hell quickly when variables change. Everyone goes on a run prepared for three days with no supplies, and if you can get access to rainwater, you could last longer. We've never had anyone stranded that long, but we did have a pair get stuck on a roof in Valdosta for two days because the herd was too damned big to take out safely to get to them. So we cleared out a camping goods store for supplies and added to it with abandoned military gear in Albany. You ever used one of these?" she asks, passing Shane a throat radio setup.

"Yeah, few times working off-duty security jobs," he says as she hands them to Jacqui and Glenn too, then flips her own in place.

"Good. Glenn and Jacqui will get the overview on how to work theirs when we're underway, but they're better and safer than the big walkies when we're out, although we take a couple of those along as well." At some of the questioning looks from the others, she explains. "A throat radio setup lets you whisper or talk really low and the ear piece keeps any unexpected noise from occurring when you're in a danger zone with the dead nearby." She tugs a scarf out of a pocket of her pants and proceeds to wrap it around her head and neck in a practiced technique that soon had everything but her eyes obscured. "We wear shemaghs too. Aside from sunburn protection, it makes everyone appear unisex from a distance."

"If you're worried about that, why take women along?" Dale asks, looking worried. Shane knows the comment made him recall her hedging around naming that her group dealt with as rapists on their journey here.

She tugs down the shemagh around her neck and starts to answer, eying Carl listening attentively, and very obviously changes whatever she'd been about to say. "Because they need skills as much as men."

Rick looks at Carl for a minute, then at Honey, obviously not satisfied entirely with the answer. "Would you mind taking him down to the water for a minute?"

The teenager nods, and when Carl looks like he was about to protest, Rick squeezes his shoulder. "I know you want to be part of everything, but I'll explain later, okay, son? The other kids need to come back up and eat, and you don't want Honey walking by herself." The appeal to his protective instinct is only partially successful, but Carl sighs and follows Honey toward the quarry lake.

The blue-eyed deputy squares his shoulders. "You keep avoiding saying it outright, but the only reason I could think of to make gender less obvious is rapists," he states, falling back into what Shane always thought of as his cop voice.

"Men crossed that line when there was a police force and the law to make them pay, Deputy Grimes. Take away any fear of punishment, and there are some that revert to animalistic behavior sooner than others. We spent about eight days in the Senoia area hunting down a group of men that wanted to prey on those weaker than them. Found a camp with a man tied to a tree, barely alive and completely out of his mind." Something absolutely haunted crosses her countenance and she swallows hard. "Group of ten men had overpowered him. Tied him up and made him watch while they raped his daughters. One of the girls was dead, so damaged that even when she turned she couldn't get to her family. The younger one was still alive, but all we could do was ease her pain. She was barely thirteen."

Shane flinches, trying to ignore the distressed sounds from the women. "Did you find them?"

"Yes." She isn't looking at anyone but Rick, blue gazes locked. "Four of them had one of Hershel's daughters cornered in a drugstore she'd gone into for supplies when a group of ours found them. One of them survived long enough to give up the rest of the group. We stayed on Hershel's farm while we tracked down the rest. All told, there are twenty-one fewer living in this world."

"You executed them all?" Dale asks, horrified.

Scout turns to look at the older man. "Would you have preferred I locked them in the county jail and left them to starve? Because I wasn't risking the safety of the children I had with me on trusting any one of those men. We found graves in their camp of other victims, ones they'd brought back for their perversions. If I'd left any alive, and they attacked more people, all that blood would be on my hands. Two of the graves held boys about the Grimes boy's age. Females aren't the only ones at risk." She looks back to Rick, who looks physically ill. Shane thinks he should feel conflicted, but he saw enough of the dark side of human nature as a deputy to not feel any real regret if what she said was true.

Everyone else looks at least briefly incapable of speaking up, so Shane does, drawing their attention. "She's right, and you know it. How many times did you open a paper or watch the news before to see how some rapist or murderer had gotten out of jail, just to repeat his crimes and go right back?"

"How did you see all of them as guilty?" Rick asks, voice cracking a bit.

"Even if they didn't all take part in the rape and torture and killings, they lived among the ones that did without trying to stop them. They didn't leave and they didn't die doing what was right. None of them even tried to claim innocence. That's all I needed to know, and they died a lot easier than any of their victims. You can accept what I ordered done and we can continue the partnership agreed upon, or my people can pack up and leave. There are other places we can base out of while we help the other group. Because as I see it, being offended about those animals dying at my hand and my orders after y'all were content to leave someone guilty of far less to be eaten alive is a hell of a lot worse. If there's ever a government again that wants me to stand trial for what I did, that's a jury I'll face with a clear conscience."

Shane finds himself of the same mindset, and surprisingly, it looks as if all of the women agree, with only Dale and Rick looking truly squeamish. The old man won't adapt well if the world stays as it is, and Rick doesn't have enough experience yet to shed his white knight morals. Daryl steps back to stand at her left side, watching their reactions with a calm sort of stillness Shane attributes to his hunting background. He either already knew or trusts her enough it doesn't matter.

It actually surprises him that the first to break the silence after her offer is Lori. The thin woman squares her shoulders and faces the Marine, fingernails digging into Rick's shoulder. "If they were pedophiles, they deserved what they got," she states, causing Rick to twist to look at her in shock. She narrows her eyes as if daring him to disagree.

"She didn't have to tell us, either," Jacqui says. "Could've spun it so that we knew there were rapists out there without knowing anything else." Andrea nods, an arm slung protectively around her sister's waist.

The old man sighs, apparently realizing he isn't going to win this one. Rick studies Scout for a moment before looking to Shane, obviously seeking his input.

"We ain't exactly in the land of law and order any more, brother. If anyone had tried to hurt Lori or Carl when I was getting them to safety, or come into this camp like that after, I'd have killed them without losing a second's sleep over it, and you know it. You would too."

The personal comparison seems to finally tip Rick's decision. "I guess you're right. No courts or jails anymore."

"I know y'all may see some of my insistence on running camp like downscaled military as odd or maybe even offensive. But I can't in good conscience not give them the best tools they have. It'd be far easier for me not to deal with the politics of this," she motions between herself and their group. "But doing the easy thing isn't the right thing, more so than ever nowadays. We'll be out of your hair in a few days."

"And if anyone wants to join you?" Jacqui asks. Shane startles. He didn't realize the other woman was considering the possibility. He knows he has if the group as a whole would go, but he is usually more pragmatic than most people found comfortable.

"I won't turn away good people. Surviving this is going to take all hands on deck because what technology we have now, what little is left, isn't going to be around forever. But neither will I bully anyone into accepting the protection I can offer... that my family will be offering."

That is the reminder everyone needs, he supposes. It isn't a decision of Scout's leadership or even her group, but the fact that they are moving to territory owned by the Dixons and she isn't willing to let her need to do good override her family's well-being as a long-term goal.

She glances to her watch. "Today's going to be hot as hell. I'd like to get underway so that with luck, we're back before the worst of the afternoon heat. We radio in on the hour, so if you need updates, check-in with Jamie. He's in charge of camp while I'm gone." She strides off, leaving Daryl to pick up the equipment bag and handoff three shemaghs to those going along, before jerking his head for them to follow. Jacqui and Glenn do so immediately, but Shane lingers a second when Rick stands.

"Be careful out there, brother," the other man says softly. "Find out more about what makes them tick if you can."

He nods, feeling the shift of the unusual gear he wears when Rick ends the statement with a half-hug. It isn't anything he didn't already intend to do, if nothing else because he believed a larger group is safer. Rick might be back, but his family is still a priority for Shane and this is one more thing he could do to make them safe.

A/N: If you skipped the last part, Randall's group was hunted down and executed by Scout's. Rick later asks Shane to find out what makes them/her tick.


	6. Options to Consider

**July 21, 2010**

~*~SW~*~

"This is almost too easy," Shane mutters softly. He and Scout are standing guard at the big rolling doors they had the trucks backed into, Liberty on alert at their feet while Augustus patrolled inside. Danny had climbed the building itself and thrown down a rope for Zach to follow once their part in drawing off the dead was done. They are perched above, keeping an eye to the north and south. He'd been worried about the potential they'd get cut off from the group in an emergency, but Scout assured him they were skilled enough to make it off the building and to safe haven points already pre-decided. One of those was the nearby student loft complex that Cricket and Glenn had lived in, which was why she'd separated the pair to give their partners a guide there if needed.

Scout snorts, giving him an amused look. "Let's be glad for easy. When they were saying 'food bank' I was kinda thinking like the ones that serve an individual community back home, not the distribution center for the whole region. Thought we might get at most one of the box trucks plus what we brought filled up."

"Area's a bit more deserted than I expected, based on what Glenn reported in." The younger man had pointed out where he'd completely cleared out the convenience store and food mart, as well as the liquor store he'd been unable to access due to the security features. There just wasn't a lot in the area to make it worth it for the supply requests he'd had to fulfill, not with the herd of fifteen or so that had been wandering the food bank grounds due to the open gate.

"It's also more isolated. They may have already wandered out of the area, and with fewer homes, maybe most evacuated. 78 isn't as blocked off as some of the interstate access is. Being over near the Georgia Power facility is part of why Cricket's loft was so affordable."

"Guess we should be grateful they shut this place down as part of the evacuation." There were only two dead walking inside the building they'd cleared. Scout led Jacqui and Shane to take them down to teach them to use their machetes. They wrapped the bodies into a makeshift cling wrap shroud and put them in an office, unwilling to have them on display while they worked. He understood why she wanted Daryl and Tyreese along when both men took over forklifts, running the already palleted items labeled as useful to the waiting trucks while the four on guard duty kept an eye out that the sound didn't carry enough to draw unwanted attention. The two men had one of the big box trucks fully loaded with what had been palletized and the second one halfway done. Now things slowed down while they worked with Maggie, Glenn, Jacqui, and Cricket to load and shrink-wrap what had been loose in what was labeled as the product sorting area. "We could make another trip or see if those couple of trucks at that place down the street still run."

She thinks on it for a minute. "Or we could get word to the Vatos that the area's secure and let them move what they need. No point in doing all the work for them. They'll be here longer too, since I'm hoping your people take my advice and get out of that camp with winter coming."

"It's hard to picture a nursing home still running in the city." That baffled him when she explained on the way from the quarry.

"Yeah, they don't have a lot of folks left there, but the ones that had family there are refusing to leave them. Wish I could figure out how to stabilize them enough to move them out with us, but I wouldn't even know how to house them. They were lucky they didn't have anyone die and turn in there."

"Get them enough supplies in, maybe come back once you've sorted something out," Shane suggests.

"Pray they hold out." She surprises him by leaning in enough to bump shoulders with him. "Want to go with me to take them meds if we get into the clinic? If y'all don't move on right away, might need to know where they are."

"Sounds like a good plan to me.

~*~SW~*~

They finish out the food bank so easily that Shane is still shaking his head. The system she uses doesn't seem all that foreign to his law enforcement trained brain. Clear the building, then load up. He wondered if Glenn's job would have been easier if it had been him going with him into Atlanta, or if Daryl had admitted to his own law enforcement background. They threw the boy to the wolves in being wrapped up in their personal issues.

The clinic is trickier. Tight hallways and walkers that aren't as attracted to the drone. There was more of a population too, considering it was a health care facility. He and Jacqui get a lot more hands-on experience with their machetes and knives, but the supplies are worth it. So is the haul from the other clinic nearby that Cricket remembered. The second clinic has more actual medical supplies, since it appears to have shut down sooner than the Samaritan one, if you trusted the desk calendars.

The others return to the quarry, driving Daryl's truck, the stake bed truck, and the two food bank trucks, all fully loaded. They end up finding the keys to one of the box trucks at a nearby business and loading it up as well. Even after Scout comments about not doing all the work for the Vatos, Shane is pretty sure that the delivery truck they are delivering carries enough food to cover the nursing home for a month, with at least another two months worth left behind at the food bank.

Scout is driving the small box truck, gaze intent on her route, trusting him to help her keep an eye out for trouble.

"How far is it?" he asks. They pass stray walkers here and there that make an effort to stumble after them, but nothing like the numbers Glenn and the Atlanta supply run group reported seeing. Shane figures if they are in Vatos territory, it makes sense the locals would pick off the walkers to make getting in and out safer. To his trained eye, some of the roads definitely appear to be more deliberately blocked by abandoned cars than randomly.

"About a mile, mostly because the train tracks cut off their location from direct access to where we were. We could walk there faster, but the truck has to take the main route." She downshifts to edge past a pair of wrecked vehicles. "They really need to fill in some of these gaps if they're staying. If I can fit this thing through, it'll allow for a herd if they get the notion to migrate this way."

"And can't hurt to slow down people either," Shane remarks.

She flashes him a knowing look, before reaching for the walkie and changing the setting to a different frequency and calling out a greeting. About two minutes pass before it's returned, the rapid fire Spanish at first indignant until the speaker changes.

"So the guardian angel returns."

Scout laughs before responding. "Delivery girl today, G. Coming in a beat-up furniture delivery truck we lifted off an auto-repair lot. We're about to turn off the main road into your area. Didn't want to alarm your boys by just driving up in an unknown vehicle."

"Good thing. You remember where the garage doors are?"

"Yeah. Have a couple of the boys ready to let me in. Haven't seen any dead close in but no sense having a running engine out here longer than necessary."

"Agreed."

The radio falls silent as Scout makes the turn onto a narrower street. "You're gonna see a bunch of gang members, Vatos, but keep in mind these are men who stay in the city where it isn't safe to look after a bunch of elderly," she cautions. "They give rough around the edges new meaning, but we'll deal with G and maybe Felipe, the nurse."

"Did G run the place before?" Shane takes the caution in stride. She's aware that his background could make him tense going into an unknown area.

"Not at all. He was the janitor. Rest of the staff all left for their families or just flat out left. Just him and Felipe stayed. Then the Vatos trickled in here and there to look after their grandparents there."

They reach a building with a pair of big garage doors. A glance upward shows him someone on the roof with a shotgun, but the lookout seems only mildly curious as one of the doors opens slowly. Scout pulls the truck in, rolling her window down and flashing a smile at the tattooed kid who hurries to her side of the truck while another Vato closes the door behind them, plunging the big open space into dim lighting from the high windows. Everything on the ground level is boarded over.

"Staff Sergeant!" The boy has hopped up on the running board to offer a high five to Scout through the truck window. "Didn't really believe you'd come back."

"Miguel, what kind of Marine would I be if I didn't keep my promises to the badass who helped me save my dad?"

The teen's smile is near blinding as he turns it toward Shane. Shane doesn't imagine he gets a lot of that kind of compliment from someone mainstream and 'respectable' like Scout. Probably doesn't hurt that she's a pretty woman either. "Who's your sidekick?"

"This is Shane. He's the leader of the group with the Korean who has been scavenging in the city. He helped us raid a couple of clinics today. Got some goodies for y'all if you'll let me out."

Miguel blushes at realizing he's effectively blocking the driver's door and hops down, opening the door for Scout. She grabs one of the gym bags they stuffed full of medications that have little use for a group like hers or Shane's, but valuable as gold to a community of elderly. Shane grabs the other two, slinging one over his shoulder by the strap as he exits the truck and rounds the front to join them. She may trust these folks, but he's not going to cut himself off from his gun even so.

Two men enter through a door on the farm side of the garage space, and the smaller one throws his arms wide, grinning. "The angel returns!"

"I told you I'd contribute to the cause," Scout replies. She holds her gym bag out toward the bald man. "This should help out a bit, eh, Felipe?"

Felipe unzips the bag. "Fuck yes. Did you even keep anything for your people?" he asks. Shane remembers that particular bag contained the high-end painkillers, among other things, that Scout said they could spare.

"We didn't need much, but we kept enough to build a starter for his people." She tilts her head toward Shane. "I've recommended he take his people out of the city, but wanted you two to meet in case they stick around. May be able to help each other out."

"Long as he promises not to let that idiot that riled up all the walkers come back into the city," Miguel grumbles.

Shane shrugs. "Rick's not usually that stupid. He was in a coma til a week ago, so his mind ain't all there just yet."

"Seriously?" G asks. "How'd a man in a coma live this long?"

"He said there was a nurse he thinks was looking after him, but the dead got her so he couldn't ask," Shane explains. "They were supposed to be evacuating the hospital, but the military just started shooting everyone there, patients, staff. Couldn't get him out and figured he'd prefer I get his family to safety instead. He was my partner, shot in the line of duty back in May."

"So he's really a deputy, not just stealing a uniform?" G is assessing him, dark, intelligent eyes taking in his body language. Shane knows this man would have pegged him as a cop even if he hadn't said as much.

"Yeah, he really is."

"Well, keep him out of the city. We don't need that kind of ignorance of the dangers stirring up trouble here. The kid that does your other supply runs knows how to keep it safe. We've been seeing him here and there for weeks. Left him alone since he wasn't causing problems and obviously had a group so he didn't need us."

It's Scout that answers before he can. "I'll probably take him out with some of mine in a few days, after he's had more time for everything to sink in. But I'll make sure to route that trip well out of your area out of courtesy."

G smiles, content enough with that compromise. He motions towards the bags Shane has. "More medicines?"

Shane nods and hands off his bags to the silent Vato who approached at G's signal. "We kept a few things for my people, but there's a lot of this we don't need or don't want to transport. There's some boxes in the back of the truck with medical supplies. Bandages, disinfectants, some medical equipment your nurse should find useful."

Scout is moving toward the back of the box truck as he speaks, rolling the door up with a grin. G whistles softly. "That is a lot more than just a bit of medical equipment, Angel."

She shrugs. "We cleared out that food bank distribution center. Figured we had to make the trip over here anyway, so we might as well bring a load. There's probably two more loads this size left there if you send the Vatos back with the truck."

G pulls himself up into the back of the truck and laughs. "You even packed toilet paper." He tosses one of the packs of toilet paper they liberated from the clinic storeroom down to a waiting Vato. He looks at Shane and Scout. "You are certain you do not need it?"

"We're moving into other areas that should still have supplies, and we've got plenty to tide us over until we get settled. The clinic must have just reordered their hygiene supplies or someone there was terrified of running out of toilet paper. Figured y'all have more need of cleaners than we do at this point." Scout glances at Shane. "I figure on leaving them well stocked before we head out too. This is just our first run."

"There anything specific you need?" Shane asks. If they stay around Atlanta for long, a good relationship with this group would be beneficial.

G hops out of the truck and gives a brief order to the Vatos who haven't been introduced to unload the supplies. He motions for Shane and Scout to follow. Since she follows with easy, loose body language, Shane does as well. She doesn't seem surprised to be led further into a bit of a maze that connects the garage with what he realizes is the actual nursing home facility. The some of the elderly gathered in the big common area look up curiously. One elderly woman gets to her feet, coming forward to greet Scout warmly.

"The pretty soldier comes back for a visit," she says.

"I said I would, abuelita," Scout replies. She undoes one of the various pockets on her pants and pulls out a bag of chili-watermelon candies. The elderly Hispanic woman cackles in delight as she accepts the gift. "A present from one of the children in his group when she heard there were grandmothers here."

"Eliza?" Shane asks, receiving a nod in reply.

"You will thank her for me?" the woman asks. Shane notes the men escorting them are waiting patiently for the most part, except Felipe, who has the bags of medicine on a table, sorting through them intently.

"We will," Shane says. The woman darts off to the elderly man she was playing cards with, waving her bag of sweets.

"Thank you." Shane turns to G, who is watching the woman with a wistful smile on his face. "They don't have a lot of special things like that anymore. The Vatos bring what they can, but they have to focus on food so much that little treats get forgotten."

"We'll make sure to bring some extra things like that on another trip," Scout promises. "But in the meantime, what other needs besides food, hygiene, and medicine do you need?"

G leads them to a table near Felipe. He takes a seat with Scout. Shane elects to lean against the wall, watching as Scout pulls out a small notepad from one of her pockets, looking at G expectantly. The man turns to Felipe. "Do you have any special requests?"

The bald man pauses in his inventory, thinking before he answers. "Saline bags if you can find a facility with any. Anything to help with dehydration. Nutrition drinks for some of the ones that have more trouble with chewing. If you find any insulin that stayed refrigerated by some miracle. Adult diapers. IV supplies. Oxygen bottles."

Scout scribbles down each item he's listed off. "We've found some of the state health clinics had backup power, propane and solar. If your Vatos can get into those, their refrigerators might still be up. We cleared out a bunch of vaccines in South Georgia that way, but the ones we found didn't have insulin stocks. You got a way to keep them cold if we find any and can any of the diabetics use the medications instead?"

"We've just got the two. Mr. Alvarez is Type 2 and we can keep mostly under control without insulin. I've actually had him off it for a while and he's doing okay. I was saving what stock I had for Robyn. She's Type 1, so she has to have it. But I've only got a month's worth left, and anything unrefrigerated would be ruined by the summer heat."

"I'll get one of the bigger chain pharmacies on our clear list or maybe a Walmart or Sam's Club. See what we can find for your Type 2 guy for sure."

"When your vet was giving Rick his exam, Rick said the hospital back home still had power in some parts. It'd be a trip, but if some of the hallways had power, I'd think the pharmacy would, right? That'd be even more important to be on backup power. County went to propane generators a while back. Not sure if the hospital would be running off that or if the hydro-electric plant is still running."

"King County, right?" Scout is looking thoughtful as he nods. "I don't know that we can make the run just now, but it's definitely worth trying. I'd like to get the more vulnerable of my group settled before I spread out beyond the route home."

"We understand," G says. "It is a long shot to ask."

"Well, if King County's hospital stayed up and running, maybe Emory did. Midtown's not impossibly far away," Scout replies. She glances up at Shane. "Wanna scout it out today? We were headed that way when we got sidetracked by all the gunfire day before yesterday. I usually use a group of four for scouting, but that's with mostly civilians."

"There's a Piedmont Hospital north of 75," G adds. "But the Vatos have not been able to get in. They did get us some things from another pharmacy near it, but that place did not have backup power for their refrigerated medicines still running when they did."

"Have they tried Emory Midtown?" Scout asks.

G shakes his head. "It is too enclosed. We do not have enough men or ammo to risk it."

"You do have a month's supply for now, so we will keep looking. I'll radio you to let you know if we find anything, so you can send someone for pickup to keep it cold."

"She's one of the few who could probably travel easily," Felipe says. "She isn't actually a patient, but one of the Vatos brought her in after a run. She has been helping me out as a nursing assistant since then."

"Would any of the others who are mobile enough be willing to go? Like Abuelita?" Scout asks. "Or Miguel?"

The bald nurse stiffens a little, but nods. "Abuelita might go, if there are children she would be allowed to spoil. She is relatively healthy but was here because she had no family and qualified for the state to pay for her care. Mr. Reyes could travel. He was here recovering from open heart surgery. If he takes his meds and is careful, he should be okay."

"And Miguel?"

"He is my cousin. My responsibility," Felipe says. G looks like he wants to say something. Both men look to where Miguel is perched next to Abuelita, obviously lured to her side to enjoy one of the candies. "I will think about it."

"How old is he?" Shane asks. The teen looks young, despite the brash attitude he adopts to appear older.

"Fourteen."

Scout must decide to let the subject lie for now, because she turns to G. "What other supplies do you need?"

"Warm blankets and clothing. We can't guarantee heating in the winter. We have been stockpiling water and collecting rainwater, but if you have anything to help sterilize it, even bleach, we could use it. Batteries or solar powered lights."

"Those should be easy enough. If we can secure some food caches for the Vatos to pick up later like we did at the food bank, we will. There's a limit to the amount we can transport, and I'm concentrating on the areas less trained groups can't usually get into. That reminds me." She fishes into a pocket and hands G the keys she'd found on one of the dead in the food bank. "Locked it up, so shouldn't have any dead wandering in, but I'd clear it out as soon as possible in case we aren't the only groups around. Atlanta's a big city and lots of ways to spy without being seen."

G nods, slipping the keys into his own pocket. "I will send someone out this afternoon."

"We'd best get back on our way if we want to get any scouting done and still get back before dark," Shane suggests quietly. He isn't uneasy among these people, but his mental clock is ticking if she wants them to scout, and there's no guarantee they'll find a car.

"Are you certain you want to leave the truck?" G asks. "We don't have anything spare to offer you to drive at the moment."

"We're good. One thing I've found in traveling is that business are notorious at leaving keys where they can be found and the vehicles gassed up nicely." Scout rises, reaching out to shake the hand G offers. The man leads them in a different direction than they entered by, letting them exit through a door into a courtyard.

"Do you remember how to climb through it all?" the Hispanic man asks. Scout nods and he closes the door behind them. Shane hears the bolts slide home and waves a hand to indicate he'll follow Scout.

She grins. "Come along, pretty boy. I've got an idea of where to check for some wheels first."

~*~CP~*~

Carol sees the watch stander on the RV, Patricia, sit her walkie down and signal Rick at his own watch position, pointing down the road. She breathes a little sigh of relief, because everyone has been feeling a little tense since the supply runners returned without Shane and Scout. It overshadowed the joy of seeing two fully loaded food trucks, even with the casual explanation the others gave that the two leaders are making a delivery to the nursing home group and then doing some scouting for the next day's run. The fact that it's their habit to have a team of two to four people do so didn't reassure Rick at all. The man's unease is a bit contagious, and it is driving Carol a bit batty, because she wants to be happy that they now have enough food for probably two or three months.

That is in addition to the medicines Cricket generously added to their tally after using a sharpie to detail their essential details on each bottle or package. There are so many medical supplies and hygiene items like gallon jugs of soap that Patricia brought over a spare tent to stash them in until they get things organized on permanent storage or transport.

But maybe not all is well, because Cricket is now heading their way, while a few others are carrying bags over to the area where two solar showers are set up about twenty feet outside the vehicle circle. No one has used them yet, preferring the quarry lake to hauling water, so Carol figures it has something to do with the scouting pair's return. They're wheeling a big blue barrel off a trailer that looks like a compost bin too.

"Hey! Any of y'all know where a change of clothes for Shane might be?" Cricket asks, as soon as she reaches them. Without thinking about it, Carol points to the laundry basket she left outside the deputy's tent earlier.

"What's going on?" Rick asks, tone barely polite. The others are gathering.

"From what Patricia relayed, mostly a need to rinse shuffler muck off. We try to be real proactive about disinfecting clothing and gear. The supply runners who already came back didn't really have a lot of close contact with bodily fluids, so no one showered right away. We'll toss their clothing into the big blue barrel contraption to be cleaned and disinfected." As she explains, the young woman is flipping through Shane's clothing plucking out underwear, socks, pants, and a black T-shirt.

A big vehicle is crawling its way up the gravel road. Carol can't really tell what it is, but Rick's got the binoculars up and taking a closer look. He starts laughing, which is a welcome break from the tense behavior he's been exhibiting. Cricket jogs off with Shane's clothing without another word.

"What is it?" Lori demands. "What's so funny?"

"They've liberated a mobile clinic from one of the charity groups that goes around doing free health care," Rick explains. The others have a variety of reactions, from incredulous to amused as the big vehicle pulls in. Carol isn't sure where they're going to park it, but she supposes they'll figure it out.

The returning pair don't seem to be worrying about their vehicle just yet. Shane hops down out of the driver's seat and gives Rick a brief wave before following Scout toward the solar showers. Their clothing is gorier that Carol is comfortable with, but both are moving easily and don't seem to be hurt. She can't imagine getting that much walker blood on her. Maybe they can't either, because both of them hand off weaponry and strip down to underclothing before stepping behind the shower curtains pretty quickly. The final bits of clothing are passed around the curtain.

The half dozen or so folks from the Dixon camp go to work, emptying pockets of gear and stuffing the gory clothing into the big blue barrel. One of the men dumps a couple of large containers of water into the barrel along with the clothing, along with what seems like half a gallon of what Carol figures is disinfectant. Once all the clothing is in, he seals the barrel and starts turning the handle to make the barrel rotate. A teenager Carol hasn't met yet, a girl about Sophia's size, comes out of the camp carrying an armful of clothing and towels and a net bag that looks like it has toiletries. Another pair set to cleaning weapons. It is all done as if by long practice.

"They've got cleanup down to an artform," T-Dog comments.

"I can't believe they practically got naked in front of everyone like that," Lori grumbles.

Jacqui scoffs. "Nothing indecent about either of them. She was better covered than most swimwear in those boxer briefs and her vest. Noticed she was wearing a protective sleeve over her arm scars too."

"Is that what the weird one-sided sleeve was all about?" Amy asks.

"Yeah. I don't imagine she wears it all the time." Jacqui looks thoughtfully toward the vehicle, where two of the group near the showers have come forward carrying cleaning supplies. One goes to each side of the cab. They can see the one on the driver side begin to scrub at the seat and steering wheel. No one can say they aren't thorough. "I wonder if they got all covered in walker bits trying to get that clinic truck. I could see where that might be worth it, depending on what's inside equipment wise."

"Won't know til we look," Andrea says. Cricket is leaving the shower area and heading toward the truck with the look of a kid on Christmas morning. The veterinarian is also heading that way. Carol snags Sophia's hand and follows along with the others, leaving behind just Rick on watch and Ed smoking in front of their tent.

Cricket opens the door closest to cab and lowers the steps. She disappears inside with a happy exclamation before reappearing in the second doorway. "I wasn't expecting a mini lab in here, even an x-ray. Gonna check those ribs, T-Dog. Y'all do the tour after I get the expansion out." She pops back inside, and Carol can hear movement and thuds as the young woman explores before the vehicle side expands outward.

The vet is the next person inside, but then their group follows carefully for a look around. Carol and Sophia are the last to go inside, as the other group hasn't approached aside from the two medical folks.

Cricket wasn't kidding when she said it had a lab. Carol could see the room at the rear, past the exit door, where Hershel was examining the equipment. Cricket is perched on the only exam table, obviously waiting on everyone to enter.

"It's not quite a mobile ER, but it is a step up from a simple mobile clinic. It's an amazing find to locate it intact and stocked. And it can go with y'all."

"Your group is just going to give us a mobile medical unit?" Andrea asks, tone disbelieving.

"Technically, if you want to view it that way, both groups had a scout involved in liberating it." It's Hershel who answers, turning to face them from the tiny lab. "And my apprentices and I already have plans for a more permanent facility when we are settled. It'll be easy enough to clear out the nearby medical practices."

"We don't have any medical people," Dale notes.

"The someone gets to learn on the job. We'll raid for textbooks and manuals. Any of y'all ever get Red Cross certified?" Cricket's tone implies she thinks it is just that easy. Maybe for her it is.

Amy, T-Dog, and Jacqui all answer affirmatively. "Then you at least know first aid, which is a good start. I'm sure both deputies have training too." Hershel studies them for a moment. "I'll walk T-Dog through the x-ray machine when I check those ribs. The machinery and lab won't be a resource forever, but the unit itself gives you a good clean area with a power source to perform simple medical procedures. You can also catalog your medical supplies easier. Since you don't really need two exam areas, one can be used for storage."

Carol is still a bit disbelieving that they're leaving the medical unit for them. That kind of generosity seems unusual even for before the world ended. But as efficient as they seem to be, perhaps they really are confident they can set up their own permanent clinic later. It's the kind of confidence she wishes Sophia could grow up around, but there's no way Ed would go with the Dixons, especially not if Merle really did threaten him when the brothers first came to camp. It was only his basic laziness that made him tolerate Shane's leadership. Before Rick arrived, all he had to do was sit four hours on top of the RV in the afternoons, and in return, he got all his meals and no one harassed him about the other things the men did like firewood.

She likes the other camp's routine better. Nothing seems to be set to gender lines. She's seen grown men, not just the teenage boys, washing dishes, cooking, and looking after the little toddler. Perhaps being led by a woman helps, but she can't really blame Shane for their camp's chore setup. Lori was the one who spearheaded that, although Shane obviously preferred to leave most things outside of camp security to the women to sort out.

With a little sigh, she indicates to Sophia that they should go outside, but the girl looks anxious. "Can I stay and ask Cricket if she needs help with inventory, Mama?"

How can Carol resist that entreaty? Sophia likes being helpful, and she's fairly certain that the young medical student would be more than happy to share knowledge. So she nods, stepping down from the vehicle, which was making her feel claustrophobic with so many people checking out the space. Outside, she slips behind the truck, sitting on the bumper and taking a deep breath to center herself.

She notices that Shane and Scout are sitting on the lowered tailgate of Daryl's truck, both eating from plates brought to them by the other camp. They have a map between them, and Glenn is making notes between that and a composition book. She's glad for a moment that Lori is still inside the medical unit, because she can hear the complaint now that both of them are barefoot and shirtless as they eat, although Scout's ever-present compression vest and exposed scars make her heart ache a bit trying to imagine what the woman suffered.

"She's okay," a masculine voice says, causing her to jump and thump her head back against the vehicle. "Shit. Sorry. Didn't mean to scare ya."

When the worst of the startle reaction passes, she gives Daryl a weak smile. "No need to apologize. I was woolgathering."

"Could put it that way, but I'm thinking more you were feeling compassionate towards Scout." He gives her a crooked smile.

"Glenn said you weren't sure she would live at first," Carol manages, drawing confidence from somewhere. She isn't sure where the confidence to talk to him comes from now, other than seeing his obvious affection for his returned niece. She wishes Sophia had an uncle like that, any role model to counteract Ed's example.

"Her chances were pretty low that first week, but those were the ones the doctors had to give us. They didn't know just how damned stubborn she is. I was pretty sure she'd beat them, but yeah, it was outright terrifying for a while."

"I'm glad she did. She's so confident it's contagious just watching her."

Daryl laughs, leaning against the truck next to her. He has a stillness to his nature that none of the others do. It probably served him well working as a ranger. "Confident, stubborn, pissy as hell sometimes." He sighs softly. "She bitched me out pretty good late last night over you and Sophia. I wanna apologize that I didn't do more about Ed than let Merle kick his ass and threaten to feed him his balls."

"Did he really?" Carol can't quite imagine it, even with the contrasting information that has trickled in about Merle and hearing about it, but something changed with Ed after they came to the quarry camp. His tone is still ugly, as are his judging looks, but he hasn't attempted to lay a finger on her other than the one night Merle was missing. Even then, he only grabbed her arm tight enough to bruise and told her she ought to be glad there are two cops in camp now before turning her loose. If Merle really threatened him, she supposes he wasn't sure the man wouldn't return and carry out his threat.

"Yeah, he did. Walked up on the last of it, where he actually had the asshole by the balls. Surprised Ed could walk away after. Merle never could stand a man to beat on a woman. He grew up watching daddy beat our mama. S'why he joined the Marines soon as he turned eighteen. Said he was gonna kill the man if he didn't, but later on, figured me and mama would have been better off with the old man dead and Merle in prison than we were." Daryl fumbles in his pocket for a packet of cigarettes, stares at them, and grumbles before shoving them back in.

"You're going to ruin them that way," she cautions shyly. She hates hearing that another family grew up in the violence that plagues her life.

"Girls are going to shoot me if they catch me smoking. Was an old habit I picked back up." He glances at her. "I wanna make up for not doing the right thing before. We want you and Sophia to move into our camp."

"I don't want to be a burden," she says, the automatic answer coming out unbidden. "I've nothing to offer."

"Dammit, woman," Daryl grinds out. "It ain't about being a burden or what you got to offer, even though you're wrong about that part. It's about you being safe and the girl being safe."

"Ed's never hurt Sophia." She's made sure of that so far, even when it earned her more violent beatings by stoking his temper toward her.

"Men like that, it's always just a matter of time. I'm betting you've heard it before, from cops like me or medical staff or whatever, but there'll come a day where you ain't there or where she decides to defend you. Look at me, please. For just a minute." He reaches out and gently touches Carol's upper arm when she doesn't comply, so she finally turns, seeing only earnest sincerity on the man's face. "M'daddy, he was in jail a long time after he killed my mama. First thing he did when he got out was go after his family. He nearly killed me when Merle wasn't home, and Scout too, because she tried to save me. She was only nine. It was a goddamned miracle he stroked out before he found the littler ones."

"Oh my God," Carol breathes out. She's horrified at the idea of a child even younger than Sophia being beaten by a grown man. It is something that features in most of her nightmares, to be entirely honest. But fear of inciting Ed to even greater violence has always stayed her hand. The one time she left, he found them. Women's shelters aren't as secret as they like to think. If he had killed her like he threatened, it would have left Sophia alone with her father, so they went home. "Can your family keep Sophia safe?"

"We'll keep you both safe. Quit valuing yourself less than her. Girl needs her mama, when she's a good one like you are," Daryl says gruffly. He drops his hand away from her arm and shoves both his hands in his pockets. "Not all mamas are good ones."

Carol wonders if he refers to his own - or the seemingly absent sister-in-law. He appears to be in a sharing mood, so she asks. "Merle's wife?"

"Ex-wife and good damned riddance," the man mutters. "She was never much of a mama to any of her kids. Never was sure why she kept having them, at least after Scout. Wasn't like Merle had some hangup about a big family. She's been gone a long time. Least my ex-wife was a good mama, for all her other faults."

"You were married?"

She's actually a little surprised when he answers without any rancor. "For about five years, yeah. Only thing I miss about it is my daughter."

"Oh. You have a daughter?" One who wasn't present in camp. Carol wasn't sure she wanted to know, if the alternative was the girl not being alive.

"Well, state of Georgia says she's my stepdaughter, which is why I didn't get any custody or visitation. But I was there when she was born and raised her from a baby." He looks at Carol and gives her that same crooked smile. "I'm hoping she's alright. She was living up in Kentucky when this happened. Her grandma, Glynnis, has kept me updated for years. Gives me tons of pictures. Glynnis lives on our property, jokes she kept me in the divorce. She stayed to look after things, while Ethan, my girl's stepdad, was going to bring her down. I may not like Ethan all that much, but he's good to Abby and if he says he's bringing them down, they'll be there when we get home or soon after. He's a Fed so he won't be useless in protecting them."

She thinks it's the most words he's ever said in one sitting. "Abby's your daughter?"

"Yeah. Abigail Suzanne. She's ten now. Ain't seen her in three years though, outside of pictures. Her mama decided she can't bond with her new stepdad if the old stepdad's still in the picture. S'bullshit, but I ain't got a legal leg to stand on about it."

It explains some of the earnestness in his plea for her to change camps. Between his own experiences with a violent father and being separated from a girl he loves as his own, feeling like Sophia's in danger must needle at him. But is she certain enough of these people that she isn't going from frying pan to fire? "Do I have to decide now, about me and Sophia?"

He shakes his head. "Hell no. Just think real hard about it, because you'll be safe. Your girl will be safe."

"I'll think about it." She hears voices as others emerge from the medical vehicle and pushes herself off the bumper. The offer isn't something she wants to really discuss just yet.

"Alright. Can send one of the younger girls to ask if Sophia can stay the night tonight, if you want."

She considers whether or not that will piss off Ed and figures probably not. He really doesn't interfere much with her oversight of Sophia, treating her more like an unwanted pet than a daughter. With the second camp there, the man hasn't actually spoken more than two words to her. Plus it'll let her daughter be part of the decision to see if she's comfortable with the other children. "Sure. I'm sure she'll enjoy it."

As informational as the conversation has been, it's time she gets back before Ed does notice she's spending time alone with another man. She's not sure that wouldn't override his fear of Dixon reprisal. So she bids Daryl goodbye with a hesitant smile, which he returns, and slips back to join Lori and the other women who emerge from the vehicle. No one seems to notice she was missing briefly, or even that she's quiet.

Not that she minds. There are times that blending into the background is a good thing. She's got options to consider now.


	7. Complicated

**July 21, 2010**

~*~SW~*~

He's only got half an hour before he takes over watch, but Shane is pleasantly tired in a way he hasn't felt since Atlanta was bombed. He realizes he is delaying the return, enjoying being part of making decisions for tomorrow's run. So he finally grabs the bottle of Gatorade he was given with dinner on top of the protein drink and heads back over to what he figures is going to be a mini-inquisition

"Was starting to think you were staying," Rick says as he takes a seat next to the man, and he notes that there's a serious note in his voice.

"Nah. Just had a lot of crap to make notes about while it was fresh. Y'all get that haul sorted into some sort of managed chaos?" he asks.

Jacqui snorts. "Managed chaos is right. We looked like a grocery store exploded for a little while. Unloaded everything, worked with Patricia to see what they might need out of it, and then reloaded the food bank trucks for lack of anywhere else to put most of it. Got the overflow tarped between them." She motions to where the two delivery trucks have been nosed right off into the underbrush, with the pallets from the original load used as a platform for the excess stored outside. "But now we can find food without having to eat green beans for a week just to find our way to the carrots."

"And Patricia loaned us a tent for medical supplies." Rick points towards an orange tent set up near the trucks. "It's mostly empty now. While you were still over there, we loaded up the med unit with supplies after T-Dog parked it." The big blue-green monstrosity he drove back to camp is now nudged in to provide a wall of sorts behind the tents, parked nose-to-tail with the RV. Neither vehicle has the extra protections of the Dixon vehicles, but it's better.

"Do we get to hear how y'all went from scouting to driving that back?" T-Dog asks, clearly amused. "Because something tells me that's gonna be a good story."

Shane laughs. "Not as interesting as it could be. We dropped the other truck off at the nursing home. Got a list of their serious needs and then snagged one of those little cars from a bank with the godawful wrap jobs that looks like a moving billboard. Much as I made fun of Priuses before, it was damn near silent. Skirted Georgia Tech and all the way down to Emory Midtown. We were headed back when I spotted the med unit. Lot was swarmed with walkers that had wandered into the fence and couldn't figure out how to get back out of the opening. So we just made noise and stood there at that little single person gate and got rid of them all. It would have been boring if it wasn't for getting the muck all over us."

"It was just sitting there with keys in it?" Rick asks. Not that he thinks his partner would actually be surprised. People were idiots about leaving keys in vehicles.

"Nah. We burglarized the place. From what we could tell, they closed down prior to the worst of things simply from lack of staff. We'll need to go back and clear it out, since it was getting dark. They didn't have a huge supply stock, being a non-profit, but there's enough to make it worth a stop with a supply team."

"And you left your Prius behind?" T-Dog is definitely teasing with that one.

"Yeah. Not like it's going to wander off, most likely, and if it does, it's a good sign there's another group or survivor we don't know about. With just two of us, we didn't shift the bodies out of sight."

"What'd you think of the other group?" Jacqui asks. "We didn't see anyone in Atlanta, so I guess they're good at staying hidden."

"From what their leader, G, says, they've been seeing Glenn in and out of the city for a while, but let him be because he obviously had a group and didn't make any trouble. It's a handful of ex-gang members, a couple of staff members who didn't abandon their jobs, and about two dozen elderly or infirm patients. She was arranging with G that they'll take a few of the more mobile folks with them when they leave. That reminds me." He flashes a grin at Eliza. "You are a very good girl, Eliza. You made an old lady very happy with those candies you gave Scout. She's one of the ladies who'll be going."

The girl returns the grin, looking quite proud of herself. He wonders when she met with the other group, but they aren't exactly segregated.

"Is she really that convinced that where they're going is safe?" Rick asks. "To keep adding to the group without knowing would worry me."

"From what I was told, Merle and Daryl didn't exactly leave their property abandoned. There's a woman Scout calls Grandma Glynnis, who doesn't appear to actually be related, who was overseeing the place. And Merle told several friends and neighbors to bring their families there, since it's fully fenced and has off-grid power and water."

"Why does it not surprise me that Merle would have a place off-grid and that secure?" T-Dog remarks. Shane has to agree that Merle definitely seems like the doomsday prepper type.

"That's one reason they're reasonably certain the property held, but one of the things we did on the way out to the food bank was to install a solar powered ham radio repeater on the top of the loft apartment building Glenn and Cricket lived in. They're already using ham radio for all their communications because it's steadier than regular CB, like us using the police radios. There's obviously some alternate powered police repeaters still running out there for ours to have the range it has."

"Dammit," Rick breathes out. "I was so distracted I forgot to try the radio to check in this morning with the man and his son that helped me after the hospital."

"I'll remind you tomorrow," Shane notes. "But while we were out, one of the Dixon kids got through to Glynnis once the repeater was in place. It's safe and while the news wasn't all good, they know they've got survivors coming."

"What was the bad news?" Jacqui asks.

"Mainly that they don't have as many survivors there as Scout was hoping. Between the virus itself, bites, those that felt like Atlanta was a safer bet than rural Georgia, and folks going to try to find or rescue family members like Merle and Daryl did, it's not a big population holding down the fort. The good news of that is that one group that moved onto the property is the next door neighbor who runs a huge organic farm that supplied restaurants wanting to brag about local produce. Since the walkers aren't interested in fruits and vegetables, they've been harvesting as things come into season. They don't have a big enough group to really be collecting supplies, not like we did today."

"And how many survivors are there?" Carol surprises him by being the one to ask, but then again, Sophia is staying overnight in the Dixon camp. Scout promised him that they were going to do their damndest to make sure the older woman left with them.

"Glynnis, plus the farmer's family of six, one of his farm worker's family of five, the mother of a local police officer, and the college aged daughter of another. So fourteen. Two over sixty and six under eighteen. The college girl's mother died of walker bites on the job. The officer who left his mother there is at least presumed still alive, but after the department fell, he and his brother went to find their sister and her family and haven't made it back. Town only had three officers plus the chief to begin with, though.

"Just how big is this place?" Rick's eyebrows are raised.

Shane figures he's about like he was at first, picturing some small farm place, so he grins as he answers. "Sixty-three acres enclosed. Two houses, three barns, three wells. There's a grandma's cottage and a cabin on the property too. One thing the folks there have managed was to bring in a couple of RVs from a dealership a bit to the south."

"How in the hell do you enclose sixty-three acres?" Andrea wonders.

"I didn't ask, to be honest. I mean, if we aren't going, that's the sort of details that aren't really our business."

"But we're invited?" T-Dog asks. Jacqui asked this morning, but Shane figures the other man isn't entirely sure how true it is.

It's Morales who answers, though. "Yes, we are. Some of the kids were at the lake this morning. The Marine they call Jamie escorted them down there to go fishing. He made a good case for my family to go with them, and Miranda and I have decided we will. I can always try to make a trip to Alabama another time, but this is a guarantee of a safe haven for our children."

"You aren't worried after the fight with Merle?" T-Dog asks. No one has seen Merle yet, who is still in one of the RVs recovering.

"If my children were missing, I think I would go just as crazy. When I think about how he was acting, I think he wanted to be put out of his misery," the Hispanic man admits. "Don't you? He taunted you, all of us, but especially you, the biggest one of us."

"You're thinking he was doing an apocalypse version of suicide by cop?" Funny thing is, Rick seems to be really mulling that thought over.

"Yes. The drugs weren't doing it, and I suppose basic survival instinct keeps you from throwing yourself to the walkers. It might be interesting to talk to the man, once his mind is clear, if he remembers it at all." Morales hugs his daughter close. Louis is asleep already, curled half-in, half-out of Miranda's lap. "But now he has his family back. I am reasonably certain that things will be better. And Jamie has known him for years. You may want to talk to him a bit. Get someone's opinion on the man that isn't related by blood."

Shane finishes off his Gatorade and toys with the bottle for a minute before offering his input. "It's worth considering."

~*~SW~*~

Shane shifts uncomfortably in the lawn chair atop Dale's RV, more than aware that the sounds coming from Lori and Rick's tent are intended by the woman as punishment to him for thinking Rick was dead. He wasn't even the one to initiate their initial sexual relationship, but the looks and small comments definitely indicated she is blaming him. Since he'd taken the first of the evening watches, she'd gone out of her way the past two nights to ensure he heard her enjoyment of Rick's return. The fact that the other camp absolutely refused so far to defer to Rick over him added fuel to the woman's spiteful fire.

Movement from the other watchpoint RV causes him to turn his head. Maggie is climbing the ladder, and as soon as she reaches the top, she and Scout both look at him for a moment before Scout rises from the stadium chair and cedes her watch post to Maggie early. She disappears into her camp, but then reappears at the entrance, striding towards Dale's RV.

"Evening, Deputy. Got room up there for a second set of eyes? With the noise level in your camp, can't hurt with those trying to attract the dead," she drawls, voice pitched loud enough Shane knows it can be heard in the tent nearest the RV. Her expression is set somewhere between mischievous and irritated. Her words have the effect she obviously intends, as Lori's vocalization stops abruptly.

He blinks, grateful for the intervention. He'd fucked up - God knows he knows that - but his own camp is somewhat judgmental about it. His and Lori's secret wasn't much of one in close quarters. Ironic that sympathy came from the other camp instead of the one he'd kept safe in his less-than-diplomatic fashion, as he realizes both people on watch there are glancing his way.

"Yeah. Company's always welcome," he replies finally. When she ascends the ladder, careful not to jostle the RV too much, he waits to see if Lori will remain quiet. He suspects she will. Torturing him solo on the roof of the RV is one thing. Knowing someone else is up here - especially a woman she clearly dislikes - is tantamount to public indecency for the woman.

Scout folds herself into a cross-legged sitting position next to him, then surprises him by leaning against his leg. Fingers curl around his calf, just above the top of his boot, thumb stroking gently as she tilts her head to look up at him. She doesn't speak further, just gives him a half-smile before looking out over the sleeping camp. Her own watch returns to their duties, seeming content with her being in the other camp.

"I can't say I'm not grateful for... that... but you didn't have to," he finally manages.

"Well, I was only halfway being pissy by mentioning it attracting unwelcome visitors. If I could hear..." She sighs and shakes her head.

"I'm guessing everyone over there knows too?" he mutters, staring off into the darkness.

"Not everyone, but yeah, Tihu did give those that needed to know a heads-up on the politics over here. And last night drove the point home. You gained some fans earlier today."

Dammit. She heard then too. Lori wasn't as bitchy though, or else Scout hadn't yet decided it worth her time. He guesses today's supply run went well enough for the more experienced folk to get a feel for his commitment levels. Before he could reply, her hand creeps higher, coming to rest at the back of his knee and her thumb's massage is now on his thigh. He tenses. Before the world had gone to hell, he knew exactly what a woman's hand sliding up his leg meant. He'd been enough of a womanizer. But now? "Scout?" he rumbles softly.

When she glances up, the pale blue eyes hold open invitation. "Watch's over in half an hour. The way I see it, if you aren't ready, I can return to my tent and no harm, no foul. Or I bunk with you and we feed the gossip mill something new to amuse them."

"Why?" If only anyone from before could see him now, questioning why a pretty woman wanted in his pants. At least he is fairly sure she isn't offering to just sleep in his tent.

"You're getting the bad end of the deal in a shitty situation. It's not pity." She sweeps her eyes along his body before meeting his gaze evenly. "Something tells me it won't be any hardship at all, and you and me? It won't be complicated between us. You get some distance from the last few months. I get time where I don't have to be responsible for anything but exploring if you're as pretty under those clothes as I suspect. You don't flinch away from these." She flicks the fingers of her free hand toward the scars above her collar.

"Not sure your daddy and uncle would appreciate you sleeping with me." Hell no, he can't imagine a scenario where Merle Dixon, especially a sober Merle Dixon, would appreciate him around one of his daughters. Her easy confidence that he was okay with her scars feels really good though.

She laughs softly, squeezing his knee. "Sweetie, I'm closer to thirty than twenty, and I promise you, none of my family would dream of thinking they have a say-so in who I get naked with."

He is honest enough to admit the extra thought that it would piss Lori off to no end is one of his private considerations as he thinks about her offer. He isn't entirely sure it isn't one of hers. The two women anywhere near each other make him want to tense for an impending fight, although he doesn't think Lori is bold enough to risk it against a trained soldier. Scout remains cool towards Rick, but polite. And she is correct that it is an agreement he doesn't think would be a hardship to either one of them. She is pretty, in the exotic way many biracial women are, and he has to admit he is curious to see how the intense focus she applied to everything translates into lust. So he nods and she grins.

"I do a wonderful walk of shame. More of a cocky strut," she offers and he coughs out a laugh. Yeah, this is definitely going to get interesting.

He spends the next half hour with his free hand slid gently into the hair at the nape of her neck, massaging her neck as she leans her head against his knee, calmly discussing the next few days' plans as a sense of anticipation builds between them both. He merely shrugs at T-Dog's questioning look as the man waits at the base of the ladder for them both to descend so the other man can take watch. As Scout twines her fingers in his to walk past Rick and Lori's tent to his own on the other side, he looks over to the changing of the watch in the other camp. Maggie, already on watch, gives him a double thumbs-up, and the other woman - Sasha - is definitely grinning as she replaces Hershel atop the bus.

Shane might have completely fucked up with Lori, but for some reason, these women seem to be on his team and not hers. It is a heady feeling. Then he is tugged into his own tent with feminine arms wrapped around him, and he puts Lori firmly out of mind in favor of a woman who does want him, even if it's with an expiration date.

Unlike any other encounter he's ever had, this one involves a lot of removal of weaponry, enough so that they both end up laughing. "It's like a damned action hero movie," he remarks, but pauses in undoing his boots to steal a kiss when she returns to the air mattress from dropping the last of her gear on the box that serves as his nightstand.

He lets her push him to his back, sensing a shift in her mood as she stands over him with her fingers hesitating at the hem of her T-shirt. It takes him a second to realize that despite her confident words on top of the RV about him not being bothered by her scars and the fact that she'd walked with them mostly on display, she's afraid now. He sits up and kisses her belly softly through the shirt, aiming for a patience he wouldn't normally have.

Whatever she sees in his expression settles the worst of her hesitation and she peels the shirt off to drop it beside the mattress. Her blue eyes are searching as scarred flesh is revealed, with the compression bra and her protective half-sleeve still in place. He reaches up to brush against the bullet wound, waiting for her nod before he draws his fingers softly across it, feeling the change in texture from smooth skin to rough and twisted scar. Up close, he can tell there are a lot of small scars scattered across her abdomen and figures they're probably from shrapnel. As his hand moves toward the surgical scar, she freezes, so he pulls them both downward.

"Is it okay if I touch the burn scars?" he asks softly. He has no idea how sensitive they might be.

She takes a deep breath and nods, actually guiding him to touch the ones along her neck first. "None of them will hurt. There's sensation there, but more pressure than what should be felt."

He tries to keep his touch gentle anyway, exploring along her neck and jawline, but keeping an eye on her expression for any sign that she wants him to stop. When she doesn't, he takes the chance to nuzzle at her throat, moving from the smooth flesh there to the ridged and twisted scars. Deciding to treat it the same way he would her uninjured shoulder, he nips lightly at her collarbone. At her sharp intake of breath, he stops to draw back and look at her. It isn't pain he sees or even the earlier hesitation. Her pupils have blown wide and he sees the confidence from earlier coming back as she releases the clasp on the protective sleeve and reaches up to peel it down and off.

From a distance, the damage to her shoulder had looked pretty graphic. Up close, he can see that viewing from a distance doesn't do the damage enough justice, but instead of it being the turn-off he'd have expected from his past self, he's hit with an intense wave of stronger attraction. He'd gotten a brief feel for what being trusted as a protective lover and not a short term one was like with Lori, but it was just a taste compared to what he thinks is happening now.

So he kisses along the scarred shoulder and arm, letting her push his unbuttoned shirt away to fall along his back. He can tell now that the scarring goes at least as far as her sternum, so he hesitates about the zip on the compression bra. She does stop him, one hand gently holding his still.

"It's bad," she says softly. "They were able to do some reconstructive surgery finally about ten weeks before the world went to hell. Before that, it was gone. But there's no sensation there other than pressure, so you don't have to..."

He stops her with a kiss, keeping her distracted long enough for him to undo the zip and slide a hand to gently feel along the scars, following with exploring kisses. The weird twists of the burn scars actually stop about halfway down the breast, at a scar line, so he realizes it's the different between the original injury and the rebuilt flesh. The pattern makes him dig in the back of his head to remember skin grafts. And for all her comment about no sensation, she's responding to him as if he were caressing the unharmed breast. Feeling a thrill shoot through him at the thought, he smiles against her skin and finds himself summarily flipped onto his back.

Later, when she's spooned against his back despite the heat, he debates confirming what he suspects. But she's entwined with him, relaxed in a way he suspects rarely happens for her, and he wants to know.

"Hey, Scout?" he asks softly.

She makes a sleepy noise from where she's got her face nuzzled into the tender spot behind his ear, one hand petting across his abs absently.

"Is this the first time you've been with someone since you were hurt?"

Her hand stills against him, but before he can damn his curiosity, she answers with a question. "Is that a problem?"

"No." To make up for causing the worried note in her voice and the tension in her previously relaxed body, he captures her hand and kisses the palm before tucking it against his chest. He can feel her relax as she makes a content sound he'd call a purr, and she's asleep within minutes.

It takes him a bit longer to follow, mind slowly turning over the trust he'd been handed without really proving himself worthy of it yet. It wasn't something he wanted from anyone before, but since Rick was shot, since he thought the man he loved as family was dead, he's felt empty in a way he never has.

As he finally relaxes into sleep, he realizes that Scout may have offered something that wasn't complicated, but he thinks complicated is exactly what this is going to be.

A/N: For my lovely Guest reviewer(s), a future glimpse that you will not run out of chapters any time soon. 😊 As I've said, this began publishing on Ao3 and is currently over 200k at 37 chapters in (chapter 38 will post today). We've just now reached Thanksgiving, which probably will total five chapters all by itself. The story will easily reach 300k, maybe 400k, by the time I close it out (using material from the multiple seasons set in Georgia and a two-year timespan). The sequel will be a time leap forward (currently planned for 5 years post-apocalypse), before our folks eventually tackle the later seasons in their own unique fashion. A final "story", set 100 years post-apocalypse, will be a series of historical glimpses of "The World After It Turned" to know how everyone's happily ever after played out, with many tidbits told through the left behind writings of Judith.


	8. Innocent Faith

**July 22, 2010**

~*~SW~*~

Shane follows Scout out of his tent into the early morning sunlight. It isn't quite seven, enough past sunrise that the camp is well lit. As he watches Scout strut her way across to the entrance to her own camp, he notes with amusement that she told the truth about her ability to take complete pride in a morning-after walk back to her own place. She actually pinned him for a good twenty minutes, talking softly again about today's plans, making sure there are several people awake and moving in his camp. The woman knows how to wait for - and play to - an audience. She popped up and began dressing the second she smelled breakfast cooking.

The true extent of the scars she carries from the IED explosion is humbling, even though his group saw the skin mostly exposed the first night in camp. He never thought of himself as the type of man to accept that sort of thing, but something about the flicker of hesitation the normally confident woman allowed when she tugged off her shirt to reveal the compression garments she still wears reached some reservoir of maturity he didn't possess prior to everything going to hell.

"Shane?" Rick's questioning tone cut into his thoughts of the night before, drawing his eyes away from where Scout disappeared into a tent after greeting her own watch shift, one of which is her sister.

He looks over to see most of his camp giving him incredulous looks, except for T-Dog, who is studying his breakfast as if it holds the secrets of the universe. Lori and Andrea look particularly scandalized. Carol is darting half-curious looks at him from where she is dishing out food, but obviously unwilling to appear openly interested.

"Rick?" He returns the questioning tone with a smirk, making sure to play his own part in Scout's little drama by nudging his unbuttoned shirt aside to scratch 'absently' at his chest, knowing it would expose the trail of small bruises Scout deliberately left along his breastbone. She took care to walk her fingers across them this morning, eyes full of mischief, to make sure he remembered they are there. Behind Rick, he watches Lori's gaze drop to the marks. The hurt part of him that she's been needling, that soft part that had begun to think he was in love with his partner's wife, felt a thrill of guilty satisfaction when she looks livid. What right did she have to be angry or jealous? You would think she would be happy he is distracted.

"Are you sure that's wise?" the curly-haired man asks.

"Consenting adults, Rick. That's all you need to know," he says, ducking back into the tent to finish buttoning his shirt, comb his hair, and check the magazine and spare for his pistol were loaded before slipping it into his holster. The knife he used on yesterday's run joins the gun holster on his belt in its own holster. He is used to equipment at his belt, but the openly carried knife still feels new and out of place, nothing he ever carried as a deputy. But it was a lifesaver yesterday, so he didn't intend to be without it. His pride had taken enough lumps from not having the camp secure as it could have been.

He leaves the tent to see Rick besieged by both Andrea and Lori, both of whom are hissing at him in whispers that leave their words obscure but the meaning obvious as they shoot dirty looks at Shane. He is distracted by Glenn's cheerful greeting to Honey as she approaches, clean BDU shirts and combat vests draped over her arm. They left the outerwear with the visiting camp yesterday to be cleaned and resupplied, as well as his own clothing, which is still hanging on a clothes line with his and Scout's BDUs. They assured him yesterday they had extras while those dried.

The girl returns Glenn's cheery good morning, then comes to a stop in front of Shane, holding her arms out so he can take the items. He thought she was the youngest Dixon, but Scout corrected him this morning that she is actually older than their only brother by a couple of years.

"Scout says she's going to aim for the Georgia Tech campus today since Glenn hasn't been able to access the health center or student center there by himself. Give everyone over here a bit more experience helping before y'all take on Emory Midtown," she announces to the others. Shane is aware of the restructured plan, since they scouted out Emory yesterday. Originally, they were going to try Emory today, but decided it seemed silly to drive right by the university campus.

Shane holds one shirt and vest up for Glenn to lean down and take. T-Dog is already up and coming to take his since he was cleared to go the night before after the x-ray lesson proved no broken ribs, which left Shane with his own and one extra. Andrea insisted she could follow directions from a Dixon last night after seeing the bounty they brought back, so he holds the extra out toward her. Might as well let Jacqui have a day off. "If you're up for it still," he says. She snatches the protective clothing, glaring at him.

"Might hit up the rec center there too," Glenn calls down. "They've got that camping gear rental place, but the lobby's got like a half dozen walkers in it, so I couldn't manage by myself. Maybe more since those are just the ones I could see through the glass."

"Sounds good. Supposed to be leaving after breakfast." Shane knows he doesn't have the final decision on that - something he conceded like Jacqui and Glenn before yesterday's run - but he'll back Glenn's suggestion at least. He drapes his shirt and vest over the lawn chair outside his tent since they are too hot to wear in camp until he has to. Carol is already holding out a bowl with a shy smile by the time he steps around Rick, Lori, and Andrea, so he nods in thanks, dropping into the chair T-Dog vacated between Dale and Amy. Carol has done wonders with the food, likely on her own since he doesn't see Jacqui up and around yet.

"Do you want to eat with us?" he hears Carol ask Honey, as the girl hasn't scampered back to her camp yet, but instead is standing where he left her. From the look of absolute innocence on her face, Shane wonders if she is lingering to annoy the women clustered around Rick. He knows she shares a tent with her sisters, so odds are, the teenager is well aware her sister slept elsewhere last night.

"Why thank you, Miz Carol!" she chirrups, taking the offered bowl and plopping herself onto the log next to Sophia, who apparently returned from her sleepover with the girls at the other camp already. "I was going to ask if Sophia could join us today? Tihu said there's some good foraging around, so I was going to take the older kiddies out. We won't go far, and Sam and Zach are going to go along, plus two of the dogs." At the blank look from the gray-haired woman, she bites her lip. "Sam, he's the guy with the blondish red hair. Not the redhead with the beard. That's Henry. And Zach's the guy that was on watch yesterday morning on the RV. He's got paramedic training, so no worries about anyone tripping on a log and knocking themselves out or something. Not that I don't know first aid, but yanno, college classes versus the Red Cross class to work at the 4-H camp is a difference. He was supposed to be on watch duty, but Allen swapped with him so he could go along with us."

"The other children are going out?" Carol asks kindly. She is looking at Sophia's excited expression, looking torn.

"Some, yes ma'am. Julie, Luke, and Lizzie don't want to go, so they're doing some lessons in camp with Lilly. And Meghan and Andre are too little really. So it'll be me, Molly, Mika, Isabelle, and Beth, and Molly and Mika are younger than Sophia. Ben and Billy will probably tag along, but my brother's got a watch shift, and Jimmy got busted for slacking on chores last night, so Hershel says he's on hard labor today." She nudges Sophia. "Laundry duty," she intones solemnly. Sophia giggles, and Shane could agree with the girls that a teenage boy probably does consider laundry duty - especially how it is done here - as hard labor. If he wasn't so focused on ignoring the others by watching Honey, he might have missed the moment her smile fades and she gives a hard glare toward the tent Ed has yet to emerge from. From Carol's expression, she doesn't miss it either, and with that, the teenager's argument is won.

"Alright. You'll be careful, right, Sophia, and mind the adults and older kids?" Carol asks. The girl bounces to her feet, giving her mother a hug as Honey makes short work of the bowl of food, handing it back to Carol with a polite smile that fades when Lori hisses Carol's name angrily. Seems she isn't going to be openly rude in front of the girl though.

"C'mon, Sophia, let's go snag some cargo pants and stuff outta Isabelle's duffle. Y'all are about the same height, and you need long pants if we're going after those blackberries. I can braid your hair back if you want." The young brunette has ahold of the younger girl and is towing her willing 'victim' off before anyone can try to convince Carol otherwise.

"Carol!" Lori protests once the girls are out of earshot. "It's bad enough she slept over there last night. You can't mean to let Sophia go off with those people!"

It surprises Shane when the older woman looks thoughtful, instead of chastened. "Those people have done nothing wrong other than a bunch of them be named Dixon," she replies. "Adults are going with them, and if Hershel trusts his daughter going, I think I might trust in that."

"Didn't think so badly of them she's not eating their food," Glenn mutters. "She sure wasn't worried about Carl and Sophia being off in the woods day before yesterday when that walker came up." That raises eyebrows all around, everyone looking to the Korean on watch atop the RV. He just looks back defiantly, obviously pushed beyond his tolerance for the anti-Dixon sentiment.

Shane stands, passing his empty bowl to Carol, and patting her forearm. He sends his own look toward the Ed-occupied tent, meeting Carol's sad gaze for the first time since he realized the man was abusive but not feeling he had recourse as long as Carol didn't complain. He fell back on the habits of the old world as a cop - waiting on a woman to speak up about an asshole she was married to. "They'll bring her back safely. Honey may look like she ought to be hopping around a Disney show, but she knows what she's doing. They'll be back by lunchtime too since I'm fairly sure that Honey's on the afternoon watch over there today."

"She's a child herself!" Lori exclaims. "Rick, tell them!"

Rick sighs deeply. "Lori, Carol's right. At least one adult is going with them, and Zach was in college, so he's an adult too. And obviously the other parents trust them to make the trip, so it's Carol's choice. And there's no reason that teenagers can't sit watch duty. All they need to do is be alert and yell for adults."

Surprised that Andrea stayed out of it, Shane looks over to see she's slipped on the loaned shirt and vest, while she studies the activity starting to spill out to the two external vehicles at the other camp to ready them for the day's supply run. The look she gives him when she realizes he is looking isn't pleasant, but he shrugs it off to walk past to retrieve his own shirt, vest, and the machete he was given yesterday that is hooked on the camp chair by its strap.

"C'mon as soon as Dale's ready to take watch. I'm going to go help load up," he calls up to Glenn, figuring the other two will scramble as soon as Glenn does. Rick can play top dog for the quarry camp folks, but if even mousy Carol is turning the tide, Shane's idea toward maybe seeing if Scout will adopt a few more civilians if they prove useful enough might pan out. If nothing else, at least they seem intent to take on the older woman and Sophia and get them far away from Ed as possible with no jail to put him in.

~*~CP~*~

"Mama! Look what I brought you!" Carol looks up from her mending to see Sophia jogging over from where the other children are returning from their trip into the woods. She sighs with relief, the tension at having her daughter out of sight leaving her at last. The girl is grinning ear-to-ear, no trace of the shyness of the past few months, a basket full of blackberries in her arms and a canvas bag dangling off one arm. One of the dogs from the other camp, a big hound with mournful eyes and huge ears, trots up behind Sophia. The girl plops the basket down by Carol's chair and pets the dog, rubbing at the velvety ears.

"I see you made a new friend," Carol remarks, causing Sophia to grin again.

"Isn't Liberty pretty, Mama? Honey says that she's a walker hound and she's a hunting dog, but she keeps us safe and not lost in the woods instead of hunting squirrels and rabbits and stuff."

"She is a beautiful dog." Carol glances around, making sure Ed is still in the tent. He was reading one of his beloved western paperbacks when she retrieved the laundry earlier. He was rude and insulting but made no move toward her. He hasn't since the night Merle had been out of the camp, where he spat vicious words about no damned redneck to threaten him over her now and left her with a painful bruise on her arm. Prior to the conversation with Daryl, she suspected someone had gotten to Ed the first time she showed bruises on her arms in camp, but she honestly thought it might was Shane or T-Dog, not the racist, drugged up redneck. Even Daryl would have been less surprising. But then again, Merle never made any of the rude comments towards her that he made towards the other women. She assumed that like Ed, he just found her too old and ugly to bother.

"Oh. I'm supposed to give you these too, and Honey says they're lambs quarters and fireweed and to just boil or saute them like spinach." Sophia plucks one of the harvested plants out to show it to her mother. "And there are some mushrooms in there. Hedgehogs, I think she called them."

"It sounds like you kids were really successful this morning," Jacqui compliments, motioning toward the canvas bag and Sophia hands it over happily.

Sophia nods vigorously. "I mean, the other kids are still learning too, so we have to really listen to Honey since she's been doing this kinda thing for years. She says her dad and uncle taught her, but she also took classes with 4-H and classes at this nature center place near where she grew up. And can I go back over? Honey has to go on watch, but they got some squirrels and a woodchuck, and she says Jazz will let me watch him skin them and even teach me how if it's okay with you. He took the same classes she did. And she said I could ask him for some books because even though he's a boy, he likes to read stuff about magic like Harry Potter."

It takes Carol a minute to absorb the delightful babble from her daughter. She is so used to Sophia being cautious at home that it is easy to forget that the girl's teachers said she was a chatterbox in the right situations where her imagination was engaged. She looks over to where the dark-haired young man who was on watch has climbed down, leaving Honey sitting on top with her bow resting lightly across her thighs. He is surrounded by children, all vying for his attention like some sort of pied piper. She doesn't know him, but if the other kids are that comfortable around him, she isn't going to disappoint Sophia.

"Sure. Just make sure you're careful and pay attention," she cautions. It earns her a squeezing hug from her daughter, who darts off to the other camp with the dog right at her heels.

"You sure that's a good idea?" Jacqui asks. "I don't mean anything bad, but a little girl skinning animals?" It's a task Carol and Jacqui have shared in camp, distasteful but necessary.

"She's almost thirteen, and I think I'm okay with her figuring out how her meat goes from furry to cooked. She's been helping me in the kitchen for years, so she knows how to be safe around knives." Carol is glad the others are still working on laundry down at the quarry, with Rick and Jim standing guard. She doesn't avoid the chore, unlike some of the other women, so she is never really behind, and she isn't helping out Daryl and Merle anymore as thanks for the meat they brought into camp or doing Lori and Shane's laundry so poor Carl has something to wear. It is funny how no one really noticed she did far more men's laundry than Ed could produce. She figures if they had, they'd have just been grateful not to have to deal with it themselves. Even better is that Lori is actually doing laundry with Rick back.

"Guess that makes sense. Kinda hope they don't bring that squirrel over here, but guess if Miss Sophia wants us to eat what she helped clean, I can handle more tree rat." Jacqui grimaces. None of the camp is really fond of the squirrels, but it definitely is better to have a full belly, and it is a guarantee that Merle and Daryl could find those even when other game was scarce. They are eating better, more "normal" foods since the others had shared their supplies, but it seems even hunting is still considered essential.

"I'm a bit afraid it'll be the woodchuck she brings over," Carol says, causing Jacqui to laugh. "Isn't that like a really big, tailless squirrel?" She looks to where Jazz has set up a small plastic folding table with a five-gallon bucket sitting below it. The mentioned rodents are laid out on one end, and he is explaining something to Sophia with a serious, intense expression, motioning with a knife tip along the animal he has in front of him. It doesn't take him long to start cleaning the little animal, movements as precise as she's seen the older Dixons use. Once he has it down to meat, he plops it into a dishpan on the table and slides the head, hide, and most of the insides into the bucket below. A few smaller items that Carol assumes are internal organs are tossed to the waiting dogs. He then flips the knife to offer the handle to Sophia, who takes it and reaches for a squirrel with a look of determination on her face.

The women are distracted from watching the impromptu squirrel cleaning session when one of the other kids emerges from the encircled camp with an actual sun-lounger and folds it out in the shade of the RV. The door to the other RV there opens, and for the first time in days, they get a glimpse of Merle Dixon on his feet. The man is relying heavily on the tall, dark-skinned Marine helping him down the steps, but brushes away the help once he is on the ground. The skin of his arms, face, and shoulders is blistered and peeling, slathered in some type of cream. He makes his way slowly toward the sun-lounger, a bottle of water in one hand and a book in the other. The Marine and Cricket follow after him, waiting for him to settle in his reclining seat before tucking a lightweight blanket around him to the chest and plopping a basket with bottles of Gatorade next to him. She plants a kiss on the side of his head, then leaves, but surprisingly, the Marine doesn't leave right away.

The two men have a quiet conversation that ends with the younger man smiling before moving in for a hug. Carol thinks her own shock at that can't top Jacqui's, not after Merle's openly racist attitude.

"That might have been one of the freakiest things I've ever seen," the older woman murmurs. "It's just hard to reconcile Merle the asshole with a guy whose kids seem pretty devoted, and that one seems like he knows Merle real well. Can't say I'd hug someone I barely knew, fellow Marine's dad or not."

"I don't know. I guess I'd go crazy too if I thought Sophia was lost or dead," Carol replies, feeling a tremor of terror through her at the mere thought.

"I'm pretty sure that's what's wrong with Jim," Jacqui says softly, drawing Carol's attention to her and away from the two men. "He keeps it pretty hidden, even when we're alone in our tent, but I think he lost his family coming out of Atlanta. Not sure if knowing or not knowing is worse really. One of my little brothers died before all this. Drunk driver. But the other was working out in California, and that might as well be the moon these days. I just keep hoping he's smart enough to keep himself alive. I mean, if I could make it, he could."

Carol pats her hand gently. "I'm sure he did." She wonders about Jim herself. He gets a kind of shell-shocked expression sometimes that Carol remembers seeing on TV on the faces of refugees from war-torn countries far away. But he seems a bit more connected the last couple of weeks since he gave up his tent to share with Jacqui. She doesn't begrudge either of them whatever comfort they are drawing from each other. It reminds her though. "How do you think Lori's going to manage Shane and his Marine?"

"Oh, honey, that's going to be a powder keg we're all sitting on for a while. I can't blame Shane and Lori if they really thought her husband was dead. You could tell that whole family was grieving hard, especially when we first got here. At least they knew each other before all this, not like me and Jim. But she sure didn't seem like she's let go of Shane now that her husband's back. She's greedy."

It is the most criticism Carol has heard Jacqui level at the woman who considers herself in charge of the camp. She rubs Carol the wrong way, like many of the self-righteous women from the PTA who lorded their better lives over women like her, but she wasn't going to rock the boat. Ed would kill her if she got them tossed out of the camp for not bowing to Lori's whims. They all really left the complaining to Andrea, who did it well and thoroughly. She speaks softly, guilty with the gossip. "I was out of my tent last night because Ed wanted something from the Cherokee when she came over. She stood right by Rick and Lori's tent and commented about the um... noise level... before climbing up to sit with Shane."

Jacqui chokes back a laugh. "Oh, to have been a fly on the wall inside that tent when she did. Bet Lori's expression was priceless. Maybe we won't have to know everything about her sex life anymore now that she's got someone willing to embarrass her on it. Rick strikes me as the gentlemanly type on that anyway."

"It was kind of sweet. Not what I'd have pictured from Staff Sergeant Dixon or Shane either one. She just climbed up there and leaned against his leg and they talked while she kept gently petting at his leg like she was soothing him. Were still talking quietly when I had to go back to my tent. She sure seemed proud of herself this morning."

"Well, not that he's my cup of tea even if he hadn't been chasing after Lori like she was the last woman on earth, but you do have to admit that Deputy Walsh looks like something out of Playgirl."

Carol gasps, giggling as she claps a hand across her mouth out of habit. "He does like leaving that shirt half-unbuttoned doesn't he?"

"Don't hear any of the women complaining about it either," Jacqui replies matter-of-factly.

Carol wonders if she should tell Jacqui about her conversation with Daryl, but she hesitates. While she wouldn't mind Jacqui's counsel, part of why she feels more and more confident about going with the Dixons is the man's willingness to share a painful part of his past, and that's not her business to spread around.

The sound of Shane's Jeep coming back from the quarry lake brings their attention to the other camp members' impending return, Amy at the wheel with the refilled water jugs loaded in the back and baskets of wet laundry in the backseat. "Suppose I could at least help hang that up," Carol says, tucking her mending in the bag by her chair. It feels lazy to sit, even with her hands busy with the mending.

Jacqui groans. "Too bad no one over here thought to make it a rotating chore so the men get the joy of laundry too," she remarked but stands alongside Carol to go help Amy. "Wonder if they'd teach me how to shoot a gun just so I can sit watch."

"You could always ask." Carol motions to where one of the guys from the other camp is headed their way, an odd tumbler looking device cradled in one arm and what Carol is pretty sure is an old-fashioned laundry wringer in the other hand.

"One of the ladies just pointed out y'all were still doing laundry down at the quarry a minute ago." He sits the odd item down on a table and then the wringer beside it. "This won't dry them for you, and you still have to bring up water from the quarry, but at least you won't be down there getting dirty while cleaning. And if someone wants to come over and borrow the spin dryer, it'll wring things out so they dry a lot faster on the lines than even this wringer, but it uses a bit of electricity from the solar batteries." He opens one end of the little barrel shape. "Clothes, water, and detergent in there, close it up, and spin in about um... fifty times or so. Just make sure you can feel the clothes kinda plopping back and forth so they're agitating. Then drain the soapy water, put in clean and repeat to rinse them out. The wringer has clamps so you can at least put it on the edge of the table."

Carol can't help but pick up the wringer and smile a little. Wringing clothes by hand is a thankless task - one the others rarely get done well, leaving her to redo anything she hangs to dry. At least her hands won't ache endlessly with this. Jacqui is tinkering with the little tumbling washer, grinning up at their visitor as Amy comes up looking curious.

"I think you're going to have a lot of fans over here, Mister..." Jacqui trails off, waiting on the introduction.

"Oh!" He chuckles, and Carol thought if he wasn't so dark-skinned, he'd probably be blushing too. "I'm Tyreese."

Voices of the others returning from the quarry lake has Amy calling out for Lori and Miranda to come to look at their new presents, so Tyreese goes through the explanation again, offering to show them how to make their own soap from supplies he has already. "I swear, I wish I'd known about how this stuff got out stains back when I played ball," he remarks.

And of course, Lori has to happen. Carol dislikes the uncharitable thought, but the woman just can't be grateful. "Why are you doing laundry? There's plenty of women over there to do women's work."

The big man's eyebrows nearly disappear into the cap he wore. "Lady, please don't ever let my sister hear you say something like that. She'd take it out on me even though I firmly disagree. I do my part wherever it's needed. If Scout wants me on a supply run, I go, but most times, I'm in camp. No such thing as women's work, just work that needs to be done and whether I'm capable of doing it."

Rick intervenes, a hand on Lori's shoulder, something Carol has noticed he seems to have to do a lot already. "We don't mean to seem ungrateful."

It seems to soothe the offense to Tyreese, who shrugs. "Not like I gotta live with her. Just if someone wants to get the soap supplies, come over and I'll show you how."

"I'm sure someone will." Rick watches as Jacqui gets the wringer fixed to the table, distracted for a moment. "How long have you been with your group?"

"Since Jacksonville. Pretty much the beginning. Me, my daughter Julie, and my sister Sasha were the first to join up with the Dixons and that bunch of Marines she had then. We helped get Ryan and his girls out of a traffic jam, but he'd already lost his wife by then. We all made it out of Jacksonville together, but lost Teresa - one of the Marines - just about the state border. We'd started to think there weren't any other survivors until we got attacked. Started finding other good folks once we crossed into Georgia."

"And you're staying with her group to go north?"

"Yeah. We've gathered up a lot of good people. You should consider it. Your boy would be safer than with a small group. Can't tell you how terrifying it was when it was just a small group and two of the kids we had were teenagers better trained to defend themselves than most adults we've found." He pulls off his cap, rubbing a hand across his short hair before replacing it. "I'd better get back. Karen was threatening to use me as a model for teaching the little ones all the important bones earlier."

"What is Merle doing outside?" Lori asks, a note of alarm in her voice. "And why is Sophia over there with him?"

Carol startles, looking with everyone else to where Sophia is standing with her back towards them. She has something cradled in one arm, but is motioning with the other, speaking animatedly. Whatever she's saying has both Merle and the Marine entertained, since both men are smiling at her. Before Carol can move or call out to her daughter, Sophia whirls, trotting toward them.

"Look, Mama!" Sophia is as energized and happy as she was earlier, this time with a big Tupperware container with a dark liquid sloshing about and two packages labeled as dehydrated vegetable soup mix. "We finished the squirrels, and Jazz says he's going to go back out, so we get to eat all the ones I helped clean." She gives the container a shake, holding it up to peer at the cut-up squirrel inside. "He showed me how to make the sauce and says these'll taste a lot better than just pan-fried. 'Sposed to put it in a pot and let it cook about half an hour til the meat just falls right off the bone, but the bags of veggies don't go in til the last ten minutes. Mister Merle said it won't taste as good as the stew you've been making for the camp, but Jazz is still learning how things go together."

"You got to clean squirrels?" Carl asks incredulously, looking a bit peeved. He was upset when Sophia was allowed to leave that morning and he wasn't. Carol imagines it isn't fun for a boy to be cooped up when a girl the same age got more freedom. She doesn't look much like the childishly dressed girl he's been playing with for two months now either. While she still has the same cartoon-logo T-shirt on, she wears well-fitting cargo pants with a belt and they even replaced her little canvas sneakers with a pair of hiking boots. Her hair is neatly braided into a double French braid, something Carol has never been quite able to sort out. She also has one of the snug fanny packs around her waist that Carol has seen the other children wear, with a pair of water bottles snuggled into it where it rests against the small of her back.

Sophia's grin is near blinding. "Yeah! I wasn't allowed to hunt when we were out, because I don't know how to use a slingshot yet and no one's allowed to teach me until Mama says it's okay. Which reminds me. Jazz says he's happy to teach me to use both the slingshot and bow or maybe his uncle if you wanted somebody older since Jazz isn't a certified archery instructor yet like his sister. But he's been learning since he was ten at the 4-H center where he grew up. Did you know they got to do 4-H club at school? And he was in orchestra band because the football coach's wife was the band director so he didn't mind if his players did band. I thought he was kinda teasing me about liking to cook, so he said I should just go ask his dad, so I did."

"Um, I think you broke them," comes a quiet male voice which has enough depth that Carol thinks he is probably a baritone. All the adults turn to see the young Dixon standing and watching. Carol hasn't realized just how tall he is until she sees him close to Rick and realizes he is taller than the former deputy by a couple of inches. The family resemblance to Merle is fairly strong. The Dixon blue eyes are as striking in him as his sisters. He wears what Carol was beginning to think is a standard outfit for the others, a T-shirt and cargo pants, with a bow slung across his back. The T-shirt is a well-worn Georgia Bulldogs shirt, reminding her Sophia and Glenn both mentioned football in regard to Jazz.

He shifts under their attention, offering a box of groceries to Rick. "Miz Patricia was going over the list of what she gave y'all the day we came and said these are some extras she could share while they're still getting all the random stuff from the city runs. There's a couple of cans of potatoes that would go with the squirrel too, and she'll send over some biscuits later from the solar oven." He focuses on Carol. "I was going to hunt this afternoon, but she says she's got chili already on for tonight and had meat in the cooler to use up first. So if she's got permission, I can set up to teach Sophia since Miz Lilly says Meghan can have lessons while we're camped and secure for a bit. You're welcome to watch, ma'am. Or learn?" He adds the last part a bit hesitantly. It makes her wonder just how old he is.

Sophia outright bounces as she watches her mother, still holding the Tupperware in her arms. The sloshing reminds her of its presence, and she holds it out for Carol to take. Both her daughter and the young man look actually hopeful of a yes, and Sophia already has had such a wonderful day under the guidance of the young Dixons. What does Carol have to offer but boredom and avoiding Ed and probably a sulking Carl? Even the Morales kids aren't in camp, having been invited to play with the younger kids when the foraging group returned. "Thank you for the offer, but I've got chores. But Sophia can go ahead."

"Thanks, Mama." Sophia whirls and grabs ahold of Jazz's wrist, tugging him away as if Carol might change her mind if she hesitates, a reverse of Honey snagging the younger girl this morning. She can hear him telling her to slow down there ain't no fire in a tone that sounds exactly like Daryl.

Amy looks to the laundry still in the Jeep and grimaces, looking like she wants to join the retreating pair. "Would you be terribly offended if I left you to it?" she asks Carol and Jacqui. "Seemed like he was kinda just offering to Carol for lessons, but I wouldn't mind watching to see how hard it is. My roommate's sister was in the archery club at her college and seemed to like it." When Carol shakes her head, she takes off at a jog, probably trying to avoid Lori from managing any objections.

Jacqui lifts the laundry spinner off the table and sits it down near her camp chair. "Jim, help me carry this over by the clotheslines so I can use the wringer. This thing's gonna make it go so much faster." Jim glances at the glowering expression on Lori's face and grabs his end of the table. That man avoids confrontation more than Carol does.

Seeing her daughter's happiness seems to restore a bit of Carol's backbone, maybe because now, there isn't only one safe choice. She squares her shoulders and forces herself to meet Lori head-on, especially once the brunette's eyes narrow. "You aren't Sophia's mother. You aren't Amy's mother." Deep breath. "So it's just a waste to complain to me."

Then she flees like the coward she usually is, taking the Tupperware inside the RV to keep it somewhere shady til closer to supper. Her luck holds and Lori doesn't follow, so she giggles nervously to herself. They aren't free of Ed yet, but Sophia is happy, and there's an offer that includes her too. Maybe her luck would keep changing.

~*~ MD ~*~

"That little girl sure was happy to see you," Jamie says, drawing Merle's attention away from where Sophia returned to her camp.

Merle turns back to the younger man. Jazz followed Sophia, and while yesterday was hazy as hell and he's not entirely sure of reality versus hallucination, he remembers being reassured that they were aware the girl needed protection. "She needed someone to keep her safe. No one else was gonna over there, other than her mama. Nobody ever wants to believe a daddy'll hurt his kid until it happens."

"How's your memory today? From the time here at the camp?"

Jamie doesn't hold his hand, not like the girls do and they've not left him alone, not any of his kids. There's always one with him or close by. But he's got an arm thrown across Merle's shins from where he's sitting on the ground near the sun-lounger. Merle can almost see the checklist the young man is going through. He isn't sure when the guilt will fade over seeing the tears on all their faces when he fought his way free of the nightmares and realized he wasn't hallucinating his family crowded in that tiny RV bedroom. He hasn't had to face Daryl yet, other than seeing him in the room, edging toward the door once he was sure Merle was alive.

"Better. Coming back like a jigsaw puzzle. Lot of Daryl, the girl, her mama. Flashes of the other kids. Not much of the adults. Remember beating on the asshole though." He knows they keep asking about his memory because he's probably got a lot to atone for. He channels Will Dixon when he's intoxicated.

"Yeah, Daryl said you worked him over pretty good to make sure he left his family alone. Although part of that was trying to get out of the ass chewing Scout was giving him for not stepping up himself."

"Can picture that." He closes his eyes, enjoying the feel of sunlight. He thinks vaguely that he shouldn't, not with the sunburn darkening his skin painfully, but all he remembers clearly of the roof is rage that yet another undeserving asshole was escaping the dead while his kids were gone. She hides it well, but he's seen the hurt flicker in Scout's expression that he doubted she'd burn the world to get his kids back to him. And his baby brother, who stood by him when he had his own reasons to go back home instead. He knows he'd be dead without that one last lifeline.

"Stop looking like that." Jamie grips his calf and squeezes, causing him to open his eyes. "Guilt ain't gonna get us anywhere, Pops. You made a mistake. Now we move on."

Merle's left arm and leg take that moment to tremor badly, waves of nausea rolling through his weakened body. It's the sun stroke, a focal seizure, not withdrawal, although that's a lingering nightmare that dulls his senses in between spikes of anxiety that make him feel like his heart is going to rupture. Withdrawal. He remembers it from his youth, the first time he battled this particular demon and won in favor of joining the Marines and escaping the hellhole he grew up in, when he'd decided he'd rather die than keep becoming his father.

Jamie grabs the trembling hand, holding it steady between both of his, a contrast of sunburnt and ebony skin tones. The tremor passes, and Jamie's still there, smiling softly, taking his pulse as his heart rate returns to normal. "I'm gonna go get another dose of the seizure med from Hershel. You okay for a few minutes?"

He looks completely confident in Merle's ability to move past this, to heal. His kids' faith in him is easier to understand than Jamie's, but Jamie's been a Dixon since that first time Scout dragged him home at Christmas from Lejeune with tales of survival together in a desert land. He'd done his time in Iraq too, knows the bonds it creates, and recognized the haunted look in the kid's eyes. This once-orphan from Louisiana slotted into his family like Merle raised him.

He manages to nod and closes his eyes, feeling the need to sleep but afraid to, afraid this will be another dream even if the rational part of his mind knows he isn't hallucinating. He isn't alone for long. The size of the hand in his makes him think of Honey at first, because both Scout and Cricket are out in the city, but his daughter's on watch, and she's not likely to shirk her duty.

Sophia smiles at him sweetly when he manages to fight away the drowsiness to see who has joined him. "Would you like me to read to you?" she asks.

He sees in her blue eyes the same innocent faith his own kids bear for him and he manages to smile for this child who saw the monster he's been with the drugs clouding his mind and still comes close and _holds his hand_.

"Sure, sweetheart. I'd like that a lot."

A/N: I try to avoid long author notes due to the way FF adds to word count, but…

Merle's recovery isn't simply from drug use here. Full blown heat stroke is deadly. In the real world, Merle would have been in the ICU. It can take months to recover from the full spectrum of the damage. The stimulant abuse is actually the easier part of the recovery, because the body sheds stimulants fairly quickly, and unlike sedatives, opioids, or alcohol withdrawal, recovery usually more of a psychological issue than physical.


	9. Rough Evening

A/N: Last part (Merle's POV) is intense and may be a bit of a trigger. It's not detailed, but it touches on the child abuse in the Dixon brothers' past.

**July 22, 2010**

~*~SW~*~

Shane's cleaning his gun after supper when they get a visitor and he wonders in amusement if the Dixons draw straws on who gets to bring things over to the camp. This time it's Cricket, carrying an office supply box that she sits down beside Rick, who hasn't returned to watch since Jim relieved him so he could eat dinner with his family.

His partner greets the young woman politely, looking curiously at the box. "Y'all sure have a lot of presents to share."

Cricket actually laughs, dragging the lid off the box. "This one is mostly for Carl," she says, but takes a box of something and a tube of cream out and hands them to Rick.

He frowns as he reads the box. "Scar sheeting?"

"Yeah. Stick one front and back. It'll help reduce the scar tissue. It's health grade silicone. Scout isn't using it anymore, since hers are pretty much as healed as we can get them, but it'll be good for you to try. Wear the scar sheeting at night and just wash it with soap and water and reuse. During the day, rub in that cream to help your skin heal. It'll also act as a protective barrier. Jamie talked to you about the exercises earlier, right?"

"Gave me some notes, yeah," Rick acknowledges.

"You need to take them seriously. I know I was abrupt the other day, but you got a miracle going here and ought to make sure it keeps going. In ordinary circumstances, the bullet wound would have been healed before you woke up, but Shane mentioned to Scout that they had to do some follow-up surgery to remove a fragment that was causing an infection."

It's Carl who replies before Shane could. "Three surgeries really," the boy says. "Did your sister have so many?"

"Not for the gunshot wounds, no." Cricket apparently decides to stay a bit, since she snags one of the chairs left empty because the Morales' family is actually over playing visitor. "The one on her arm, they just stitched that up and it was all healed within two weeks. Did you see the other one?"

Carl nods. "It's kinda like Dad's, but lower down. That was the one I was asking about, since it's like his."

"Well, it sorta is. Feel along your side there, where her scar is. No bones, right?" The boy agrees, and Shane is surprised that Lori hasn't interrupted, but a glance her way shows actual curiosity for once. "Now feel up where your dad was shot. That area's not just muscle. I'm betting the first surgery was to repair bleeding, the later ones to remove fragments that were left behind or maybe pieces of bone if his ribs were hit. Contrary to what TV always shows, they don't usually go digging around for bullets or fragments unless they're causing a problem, since you cause more damage that way. The more damage, especially repeated damage like your dad had due to the surgeries, the longer it takes to heal. My sister's bullet wound was actually the first thing that really healed up, because all it hit was muscle, like on her arm."

Carl absorbs what he's being told. "With what you said about those shakes, he'd be better by now if he'd been awake to eat, wouldn't he?"

"Maybe. It's hard to tell on medical, because everyone heals differently. But nutrition's a key part of that, and no matter how good we think the stuff we give someone through an IV or feeding tube is, it's not the same as having an alert patient eating on his own." She smiles gently at the boy.

"Second surgery, they put some supports in on his ribs," Lori says, fingers gripping at her pants as if the mere memory stresses her. "Those will be okay?"

"Rib plating? Yeah. Now I wasn't as far along in my training to get to really see specialized stuff like that yet. First year of medical school is a lot more exhausting studying than serious hands-on yet. But being a college athlete, you end up seeing folks end up with breaks bad enough for that level of care, especially the football players. Usually it means there were multiple breaks in multiple ribs, and stabilizing them with the plating allows for faster healing. It shouldn't be a problem going forward, any more than the surgical pins my younger sister has in her arm from repairing a sports injury."

"When we were in the ER, they said he had something called flail chest," Shane says, making fists reflexively as he remembers the terror of first holding pressure on the wound and then the ride itself to the hospital where there seemed more blood out of Rick than he could survive.

"Christ. Yeah, that'd explain the surgery on the ribs. Sometimes, if you get a high impact injury to multiple ribs, your chest will work backwards. It's called paradoxical breathing. So, you try to suck air in, but the chest collapses instead of expands. He was on a ventilator between surgeries probably. Did they take him off after the rib one?"

Shane nods, as Rick reaches out and tugs one of Lori's hands off her pants to squeeze it gently. "He could breathe on his own after that one."

"I wish we had his records. There are different ways of putting it back together. Some of them are permanent, like what I mentioned Honey has. But I was reading this journal article a couple of months ago that says some of the plates dissolve over time. Are you having any issues with your ribs at all? Any unexplained pain? Might be a good idea to give you an x-ray lesson like we did T-Dog, just to get a general look on what they put in there."

Rick shakes his head. "Honestly, if they hadn't mentioned it, I wouldn't have really thought about my ribs, although considering where I was shot, I guess I should have."

"Alright. We'll do that x-ray tomorrow, just to have a look about. Should've done it sooner, but we didn't realize you'd had later surgery until Scout brought it up when she gave me the scar sheeting and cream to pass on. Carl can be my trainee for the day. Want to do a first aid course?"

The boy lights up like a Christmas tree. "Sure. A real one like the Red Cross?"

"Sure. Maybe T-Dog will be our guinea pig and I'll teach you how to take stitches out." She glances toward T-Dog, who shrugs, obviously unconcerned about being used as part of a lesson.

"Can I ask a personal question?" Amy says. Everyone rotates to look at her and she flushes a little.

"Can ask. I might answer, depending on what it is," Cricket replies.

"I didn't think women served in combat," the young woman says hesitantly. Shane is fairly sure they're about the same age, since Amy was in grad school here in Atlanta. But the confidence levels between them is a lot different. Part of him wonders how much is nature versus upbringing or even the extra push given to athletes by their coaches to stand out. Maybe all three, in Cricket Dixon's case.

"Officially, no, they don't. But that mostly means they aren't given weapons and sent trooping off at the front lines on the regular. My sister was just working a checkpoint, the first time she got shot, that one by her elbow. Right up in what was considered a safe zone. Lots of women there, even civilian employees."

"She a translator?" Rick asks.

"No. Those are usually locals hired on, or people who've picked up some language skills outside their general MOS." She sees the confused look on Carl's face. "MOS is a military term for Military Occupation Specialty code. It's a way of defining their career field for the military. Scout started out as an intelligence analyst. She went through over a year of schooling out in California for her language skills. Daddy really was hoping it'd keep her stateside, at a desk job, because he served too and knows what being out in the field can mean, and he was real happy that she got stationed in North Carolina instead of California. But her unit went to Iraq for a while, and they had this program where they let women volunteer to unofficial spots that got them out of the safe zones because the local women are afraid to speak to foreign men or won't due to cultural issues. But they'll talk to women, sometimes."

"The Lioness program," Dale says. He shrugs when it gains him everyone's attention. "There was a movie about two years ago. My wife liked it, said it showed how women were in combat even if they never got official recognition for it."

"Yeah, that's a good one. She always thought it kind of funny that she was just working a supposed safe checkpoint and got shot when she'd been out in the field in far more dangerous places."

"Was that what she was doing when she got hurt again?" Carl asks. "Talking to women?"

Cricket shakes her head. "Not really. She changed from analyst to counterintelligence when they started allowing women in the MOS. She doesn't talk about where she was or what she was doing. All they told us was Afghanistan and what we can puzzle out from the medals. That's how it is sometimes, with the military. Daddy has parts of his service he doesn't talk about either. Jamie too. I'm guessing it's like your dad and Shane. I bet they saw stuff at work they didn't want to talk about at home."

Carl looks to his dad and Rick nods, giving him a warm smile. The boy mulls it over for a minute, studying his mother with enough of a dawning realization that Shane worries he's going to say something about the conflict about Rick's job. He doesn't, finally shrugging it off in favor of remembering some of what Cricket said when she approached. "Did you say that the box was for me?"

She laughs and pushes the box toward the boy. "Sorry about that. I got to talking and forgot. These are yours to keep. Sophia's suggestion."

"Comic books!" he exclaims, dipping into the box to display two of his favored reading mediums. "Thanks. Are you sure?"

"Yeah. We got them in trade from another group, when they saw we had kids, but none of them are really into comics. I ended up with them because everyone knows I love the things, but I think you'll get more enjoyment out of them than I will in the long run. But I gotta ask, mister, Marvel or DC?"

That sets Carl off laughing, along with his dad and Shane. Shane and Rick had taken Carl to see the Iron Man 2 premiere not long before Rick was shot, and Shane can still remember how the boy practically vibrated in excitement all the way home telling them about how he couldn't wait for next year's movies. That was without mentioning the number of times he'd made them rewatch the X-Men movies with him. He'd been a Marvel character every year for Halloween since he was old enough to choose his own costumes. "Marvel, duh."

"You make good choices, my friend." She reaches out a closed fist and Carl bumps it.

"Thanks, Miss Dixon."

"Ugh, kiddo, don't make me feel old. Call me Cricket, or if that's too weird for you, I answer to Chris easily too. Athletics trained me to answer to Dixon pretty well, but that'd get confusing real fast here."

"Is that short for Christine? They were talking the other night that there used to be someone on TV named like you."

"Got it close. I'm officially Christina, but there was a girl named Christina and a boy named Chris in my kindergarten class, so my teacher suggested Cricket and it just stuck. Funny enough, none of us really use our given names, me and my siblings. I'll bet you wonder about the others."

Shane laughed, looking up from where he just finished reassembling his gun. "Well, your younger sister did introduce herself as Hannah, but followed it up to call her Honey right after."

"Well, considering it won't take her long to get into some sort of mischief that has someone yelling her full name around camp, she might as well. I can safely say that Jazz is short for Jasper. He honestly doesn't really care one way or another what he's called. Scout would drown me in the quarry lake if I told her real name, so we'll stick to the story that it's Scout."

"Is it really that bad?" Carl asks, looking astounded.

"She thinks so. I happen to think it's pretty, and at least she never had to change her name because of classmates with the same name."

"Or had to be known by an initial," Amy grumbles. "One year, there was Amy L, Amy H., and Amy B., all in the same room. You'd think schools could spread us around a bit. It wasn't like we only had a couple of classrooms, yet every single Amy in the grade was in the same fourth grade room."

"I've never really met another Carl," the boy admits.

"Well, see, that's where your parents did awesome. No need to share your name in class and I bet they spell it right too." Cricket tells him with a wink. She stands and stretches. "I'd best get back and make sure Daddy actually listens about going to bed early."

"How's he doing?" Rick asks, a little hesitantly.

"Better than expected, really, considering the shape he was in between the poison he put in his system and the heat stroke. If we're lucky, he won't have any major withdrawal issues, and I'm hopeful we treated the heat stroke before it did any lasting damage to his heart, liver, or kidneys. Honestly, the raging asshole mode he was in up there was probably the sun as much as the drugs, pretty much a six of one, half a dozen of the other situation. I did a test to see what we were dealing with and weird as it sounds, we're lucky it was stimulants, and not opioids or sedatives. Should be able to get him through a detox fairly quickly, and we've got him on meds to offset the dopamine crash, and some of the meds we used for the heat stroke were beneficial, especially the anti-convulsant. It's a recent habit and we've removed the primary psychological cause to him using, so now it's just a matter of waiting it all out."

Shane likes the level of detail she's put into the update. It's easy to just say her father won't do drugs anymore, but he's been a cop too long not to know that once the brain's hooked, getting clean isn't the easiest route. Scout has seemed pretty confident in her sister and Hershel's skills, and he's taken that into account, but these are the actual details. Merle's a stubborn bastard though, so they'll just have to wait and see if that force of will applies to staying off drugs the same way it did to finding the damned things in the middle of the apocalypse. He can't imagine the number of unguarded stashes there are out there right now.

"It sounds like you've got experience with this sort of thing," he ventures.

"Did volunteer work at one of the rehab clinics here in Atlanta, then did an internship as part of my pre-med program. Was thinking of specializing for a while, but it's a frustrating field, kind of like oncology. You're always going to rack up losses. I was figuring on rural health. Didn't exactly have this in mind, but I figure Hershel never thought he would be treating more people than cows either."

"You said you were giving Carl a first aid lesson, so I assume you aren't going out on tomorrow's run?" Jacqui asks. She partnered with Cricket that first joint supply run, and Shane was putting her and Andrea on alternate days for runs, so tomorrow was her turn.

"We've hit enough of the medical facilities that I'm actually familiar with that I'm not really needed. Scout will probably pair you off with Sasha, if you're going out again. Think she's taking Jazz out tomorrow too, and honestly, one sibling out in the field at a time is the most Scout likes to worry about." She glances back to the other camp and when Shane follows her line of sight, he can see that Merle is still up and about, although it's mostly sitting near the campfire with Honey nudged around his legs like a baby octopus from where she's sitting on the ground by his chair. She pauses for a smile at Carl. "I'll see you for your lesson tomorrow. Let's plan on after breakfast, soon as the supply runners head out, alright?"

The boy beams at her and nods. Shane is surprised that Lori didn't pitch a fit about him taking the lesson, but maybe because Rick's x-ray is involved, she finds it more appropriate. She also doesn't seem to get as worked up by Cricket as she does the other Dixons. Snobbery perhaps, since the young woman is a medical student. That would rank her up pretty high in Lori's deductions of the world.

Everyone's fairly quiet, watching her cross back over and drop her arms gently around her father's shoulders. Merle smiles up at his daughter, allowing himself to be herded upright and toward the RV, Honey following as Merle's steps are a little wobbly.

"They are very loving toward him, the two younger girls," Dale muses. "Every interaction I have seen since he came out of the RV has been very sweet, when I was on watch before Rick. He adores those two. I was surprised by Sophia reading to him, though."

"What about the other two?" Jacqui asks, obviously realizing that sitting watch gives Dale a viewpoint into the other camp most don't have. Shane's a little curious himself. He's spent two days on runs partnered with Scout, and last night was obviously an entirely different sort of time together, but he hasn't actually seen her interact with Merle yet.

"The son's quiet. Ate supper with his father, but he's off reading to the younger ones right now. Looks like a Harry Potter book." Jim answers instead of Dale, surprising them. He's been more interactive lately, volunteering for the watch substitution. Shane isn't sure whether to be hopeful or worried.

"Sophia did mention Harry Potter earlier. When she was telling us all about learning to clean squirrels and asking for archery lessons. How did that go?" Jacqui asks Amy. "Or did you spend all your time trying to flirt?"

Andrea looks angry. She apparently didn't realize Amy ventured out of camp while she was on today's run. "You shouldn't be flirting with a Dixon, not even the young one."

"Good grief, Andrea, it's harmless. Besides, I've never been so politely ignored in my entire life, and that includes when I was flirting with the gay guy from my economics class. Jim's right though. He's really quiet. Spoke to give instructions and encouragement, was more comfortable with Meghan and Sophia than me, though." She turns to Carol with a grin. "Your girl is a good shot. After she came back from that little jaunt reading to Merle, she was nailing that target like she's been drawing a bow for years, just on one lesson. He ended up leaving her to practice while he worked with the little girl more. Said he was going to ask you tomorrow if you were okay with her carrying a bow if she's allowed to forage again, since Honey will be along to supervise her trying for moving targets."

"She's really that good?" Carol asks, looking surprised.

"Yeah. Regular little Legolas. That's why he wanted Honey to start working with her, because his sister's better with the bow than he is. He said he's been focused more on ROTC than hunting this past year when Sophia asked why."

"Some people are better at teaching too," Shane adds. "If you're willing to let her learn more, Carol, I can't really vouch for the archery, but if the girl's been doing IDPA competitions, the moving target bit is probably legit. Although I'm hoping they practice on rabbit and not squirrel. Tonight's supper was nice enough, but I'm not the only one who might like a break."

"Well, since Andrea isn't going on tomorrow's run, maybe we could borrow Dale's canoe?" Amy suggests. "The kids that have been going down there have trailed out a few fish, but might get more if we could get off away from the bank."

Dale agrees easily, always happy for anything that amuses Andrea or Amy, and Andrea looks happy that Amy's wanting to spend time with her.

"You look exhausted, Shane," Rick says quietly, but it still draws attention from the others.

He shrugs. He is pretty damned tired, mostly because between yesterday and today, both supply run and scouting, he's realized he lost some of his athletic edge stuck in camp. "Nothing a good night's sleep won't fix." And then he freezes, because the sudden alert looks he gets from several of the others tells him that this morning's staged drama is about to be brought up.

"Maybe you should have gotten more sleep last night," Andrea says, tone biting.

"Not sure how that's any of your business," he replies. He considers a barb that he's not sleeping with her, so why does she care, but that might make her spiteful enough to open the can of worms that is him sleeping with Lori.

"This isn't like before, where you can have an easy one-night stand," Rick ventures. He sounds more concerned than upset, and Shane supposes his track record does make Rick justifiably nervous. They're a little dependent on Scout's group at the moment, but today's partnership on the run hadn't been any different than yesterday's. He's never met a woman who can compartmentalize as well as the Marine on public versus private.

"They're going to be here three, maybe four, more days, Rick. I think it's exactly like that. Just ask T-Dog. You see any problems with us doing the run together today?" Because he's not stupid enough to ask Andrea's opinion, and Glenn, as always, is nestled among the other camp as if he has always been part of it.

The other man shrugs. "Not that I saw. Daryl didn't seem to care, and that's where I thought there would be a problem if we had one, honestly."

"Maybe he didn't realize," Andrea begins, only to be cut off by Jacqui scoffing.

"Not sure how you'd think Daryl misses anything, especially not where his family is concerned," the older woman says. "I may not have cared for either Dixon before, but observant is nearly that man's middle name."

"It just makes me uneasy," Rick says, expression set in what Shane always thinks of as 'earnest good guy'.

Before Shane can ask why, Jacqui does, and something about her posture makes Shane more alert, especially when she exchanges a look with Carol.

"I just don't want any bad blood," Rick manages finally, frowning.

"Wow, guess I know what kind of opinion you have of me," Shane says, honest hurt flickering past the guilt over Lori. He knows he should tell Rick, confess before it comes out in a way that hurts everyone worse than it already will, but this automatic assumption that he'll cause a problem hurts. He's never had an ex come causing problems. That's just not how he works. He pushes to his feet despite the exhaustion. "Gonna take a walk."

He hears Rick call after him, but since the man doesn't actually follow, he keeps on the trajectory toward the quarry lake. It's relatively safe, and he's armed, after all.

~*~CP~*~

Carol feels her anxiety level spike when the big deputy stalks off, every line of his body radiating hurt and anger. Rick's on his feet, but surprisingly, his way after Shane is blocked by Jacqui. The other woman has a hand out on Rick's chest and her expression is almost forbidding.

"Let me by."

"No. Because I don't know what your partnership was like before with him, but you sure aren't treating him like a friend now," Jacqui says. "Let him walk it off and talk to him when he gets back."

"Kinda glad you aren't my best friend," T-Dog states, before following after Shane. Jacqui makes no move to stop him from leaving.

"Dammit, I didn't mean to piss him off," Rick mutters, sitting back down. Jacqui returns to her seat after a moment, arching a brow disbelievingly.

"Shane's never had a relationship last longer than a month," Lori adds. "He's fickle. Look how he abandoned Rick!"

Carol's never been more grateful for her habit of looking down in her life, because she knows there's no way her expression wouldn't make Rick ask questions. She wonders if the others are equally incredulous. Fickle isn't exactly how she's seen Shane's devotion to Lori and Carl, to keeping them safe. And the man had outright cried when Rick reappeared. There's a coiled tenseness in the man that has always made her a little nervous, because she's wary of men that rely on their physicality the way Shane does, but she's never been actually _afraid_ of him.

"If you think he was going to be able to carry a comatose man and his medical equipment to safety, you're crazy," Jacqui snaps. Whatever brought her to the breaking point, to defending Shane, Carol's glad. Her own brief rebellion toward Lori had been pleasant, to speak her mind. She imagines it's even more of a relief to someone used to doing that anyway, like Jacqui. "You weren't here when Hershel explained how much care he still needed. How was Shane supposed to do that and still get you and Carl safe? If you had a choice, Rick, which would you want him to do?"

Carl is looking almost frantically between his parents and Jacqui, trying to figure out the source of the conflict. Carol thinks the boy is one of the few people unaware of his mother's relationship with Shane. Even Sophia commented about how lucky Carl and Lori were to have Shane. She suspects her daughter envied Carl having a replacement paternal figure.

"He did the right thing," Rick says, looking drained. "Jacqui's right. There's no way he could have gotten me out of that place and kept me alive doing it."

"He said you were dead, Rick. Dead."

The curly-haired deputy sighs, reaching out to take his wife's hand. "I really believe he thought I was, Lori. And would you have left willingly if he said he wasn't sure?"

Carol doesn't think Lori would have. The woman's stubborn enough she might endanger herself and even Carl for some sort of 'stand by your man' moment.

It takes Lori a minute to finally shake her head, so she's at least being honest.

Rick notices Carl's distress and reels the boy into his lap for a hug. "I'm glad you thought I was gone and not sitting here worrying every day about me, or staying behind in King County. The man I left behind and his son, they're the only living souls anywhere in our town. If you stayed behind, that's a lot for Shane to take on, looking after you two and me, and whoever that poor nurse we think kept taking care of me was, if he could have found her."

Lori huffs, ducking her head to hide the guilty expression Carol's been seeing more often since Rick returned.

"If they want to be happy for a couple of days, or just work off stress, or whatever it is those two seem to have agreed to, it's not our place to be meddling," Jacqui says, her expression stern as she looks from Rick to Lori to Andrea. Her gaze lingers the longest on Andrea for some reason, and Carol reminds herself to ask sometime when they're alone.

Before Lori can utter whatever retort she's planning, Rick draws her into the hug with Carl. "She's right. I never tried to tell Shane what to do about women before. Like he said this morning, they're both consenting adults."

That seems to dismiss the issue, since Lori doesn't seem to want to continue, probably in case it does come around to someone spilling her secret, and no one else wants to keep it up either. Carol almost wishes it had come to a boil. The secret of Shane and Lori is something she hopes comes out soon, because the longer it goes, the more poison it will unleash. She also wonders what Andrea's problem is, if it's actually with Shane or Scout, since she wasn't as close to Lori as she made out to be lately.

~*~SW~*~

Shane makes it into his tent before Scout's even off watch tonight. He tosses his boots aside, flopping back on the air mattress, and closing his eyes. The pessimist in him wonders if last night was a fluke, but the sound of the tent zipper tells him he's not alone.

"Rough evening?" Scout asks softly.

The mattress shifts as she sits beside him. From the movements, he thinks she's unlacing her boots. A double thud confirms it. She moves away for a minute and then comes back, tugging at his belt. He doesn't open his eyes, still caught in the sour mood that's plagued him since the issue with Rick, but realizes she was just putting away his gun and knife when she moves away again after getting them and his belt free.

He opens his eyes finally when she returns and stretches out beside him on her side, not really touching, but close enough he can feel her body heat. He turns his head enough to look at her. "Not much company tonight," he says. He's had these moods before, times where he feels like his choices will never measure up to Rick's, and before, he would have avoided companionship entirely, or if cornered, gone through the motions and made sure he wasn't talked into spending the night. He doesn't want that kind of sex tonight, the mechanics of a physical release that doesn't settle the dark thoughts in his head.

"Not sure you should be alone either," she replies. She rolls into contact with him, but it's not the amorous advance he expects, not really. The kiss on his jawline is gentle before she raises up to an elbow. "Take off your shirt and roll over."

He frowns, but decides whatever she's planning can't be worse than being locked in his own head, so he complies, finishing undressing and rolling to his belly in just his boxer briefs. When her weight settles across the back of his thighs, he realizes she's going to give him a massage and relaxes. He's never had anyone do anything like this for him before and feels the ugly feelings drift away as her strong hands work their way up his back from the base of his spine.

By the time she signals for him to roll over, he's almost asleep, free of the tension that would have made for a restless night. She repeats the process with his chest and abs, with the difference now being that he can see her content expression as she works her way across his body. Although he understands now why people pay good money for a massage, he's not sure why it seems to be relaxing her as much as him. Part of him wants to return the favor. The rest of him wants to sleep, to fall into the warmth she's coaxed through his body.

Scout must understand what he's thinking without him articulating it, because she slides from where she's straddled him and tucks herself him across like a living blanket.

He gives up grasping for awareness and sleeps.

~*~MD~*~

Jerking awake, Merle rolls to his side and looks down the dim hallway of the RV, focusing on the visuals to distinguish nightmare from reality. He can see the little bunks on one side of the hall from here, the bottom one with two small sleeping children tucked together. In the top one, he recognizes Sophia, curled up on herself in sleep, back to the wall in a way that makes him angry at himself, the others in the camp, and at the world before that let the girl learn how to make herself as small a target as possible when she has to trade alertness for sleep. He knows that way of sleeping, lived it for eighteen years, and spent years making Daryl feel safe enough to sprawl out on his bed as he slept.

"You okay, Merle?"

When he rolls back onto his back, he can see Daryl in the dim light from the moon outside. He's settled into the narrow space next to the bed, propped against the wall more than he's actually using the sleeping bag under him.

"Yeah. I think."

But he's still disoriented and unfocused, which his brother must sense because he reassures him. "Everyone's good. Sleeping. Safe where they should be."

"Daryl?"

"Yeah?"

"How bad was I?" Daryl's been avoiding him since he woke. He knows his brother's gone on supply runs, but even when he's back in camp, he's the one family member who hasn't hovered in some way.

He isn't sure he needs a verbal answer when his brother won't meet his eyes. Cricket and Honey were too young when Will Dixon choked to death on his own fucking vomit to be tainted by his father's horror show. But Scout and Daryl didn't have that luxury.

"M'sorry, baby brother. Should have been stronger," he says softly.

Daryl raises his head, eyes shining in the dim light, and Merle realizes he's crying. He reaches out, and Daryl doesn't flinch away when he tugs his arm, pulling him onto the bed. He curls into Merle's bulk, allowing Merle to comfort him, and cries like he hasn't since he was a child. It doesn't matter that Daryl's a grown man now, a cop for years, a protective uncle, a father himself. Merle's mind brings back the frantic toddler who fought his way out of the social worker's arms, screaming for Merle and clinging to him like he'd die if Merle let go. Bruised. Scarred. Abandoned by the only person who ever protected him and terrified it would happen again. He'd promised the boy, vowed he'd never leave him again.

But he had, for months now. Become the demon of Daryl's worst nightmares. And yet his baby brother still trusts him somehow. Still loves him.

Merle's never hated himself before today.


	10. Forgiveness or Not

**July 23, 2010**

~*~SW~*~

Shane wakes to intense pleasure and damn near feeling like his bones are melting. Once he's recovered enough of his senses to open his eyes, he sees Scout looking rather proud of herself and reaches for her to return the favor.

The tent is still in dimmed darkness as he lays there watching as she finishes tugging on clothes from a duffle he didn't realize she brought with her due to his dark mood last night. She doesn't seem to expect conversation, her movements efficient in gearing up as he's come to expect from watching her.

But when she realizes he is watching, she smiles and crawls up to kiss him. "Got PT this morning, if you want to join in."

He chuckles softly. "Not sure I can feel my toes yet."

"Good." With a final kiss, more of a brushing of lips, she's on her feet, stuffing dirty clothes in the duffle. "See you in a bit." And then she's gone.

Her leaving for PT tells him it's not much past dawn, but he presses the button on his watch to activate the backlight. 6:50. He hadn't worn the watch in camp for months, but seeing that every one of the experienced supply team wore some sort of timepiece, he'd dug it out of his duffle. Knowing the time was a lot more important now than it had been.

He doesn't have to get up, although he really should at least go through a morning workout of some sort, even if he doesn't join the group PT, but it takes effort to finally roll himself off the mattress and begin the routine that was second nature before. Out of shape isn't an option.

~*~CP~*~

Carol and Jacqui have breakfast underway, with Carol frying up sweet potato pancakes, while Jacqui has thinly sliced Spam sizzling away. She figures at least half their camp would have turned up their nose at Spam before, but now, the scent of the cooking meat is drawing sleepy folks from their tents. Jacqui had sniffed at the breakfast already started in the other camp and made a beeline for the canned meat with a grin. They've got a container of the dehydrated eggs waiting, but since those just need hot water, they can wait.

She's cutting glances toward the other camp, where Sophia has joined in the PT, falling in among the line of kids as if she's been with them for months. Even Merle is out and about, although he's leaned against the RV with the toddler in his arms. The boy looks sulky, as if he wants to be part of the group movement.

"It is way too early in the morning to be that cheerful," T-Dog mutters, sinking into a chair.

Jacqui passes him a cup of coffee and laughs. "Us or them?"

"They're exercising before breakfast and smiling about it," he grumbles. "Makes me think of two-a-days, though that was after breakfast at least."

"Yeah, but you gotta wait an hour or so if you eat something big or end up puking," Shane says nonchalantly, watching the other group. He's dressed, but his skin has the sheen of recent exercise, and he's completely clean shaven for the first time she remembers. The way he rubs at his chin, he's gotten used to having the stubble. She pauses between pancakes to pass him a cup of coffee since Jacqui's busy slicing up a new block of Spam.

"To be fair, they did all look half asleep when Scout went trailing back over to get things started," Glenn says. "But it makes me kinda glad I'm on guard duty."

"Well, if you want to join in, I can take over for a few," Shane offers, laughing when Glenn shakes his head. He motions to the petite form of little Meghan among the children currently going through a modified version of the adult workout. "You saying a six-year-old can do more crunches than you?"

"I'm saying that toddler Merle's holding could do more," Glenn gripes.

Carol can't help but giggle when she looks to where Merle is somersaulting the boy from the ground to his chest and back again. The toddler's giggles are contagious.

"Why is he turning that baby upside down?" Andrea says, but it's more curious and less critical sounding than Carol actually expects.

"Carl used to love that shit when he was little. He'd put himself upside down if you wouldn't do it for him," Shane replies, looking back over his shoulder. "Remember that, Rick?"

"About made my arms fall off sometimes," the other deputy says. He looks relieved that the bad mood he'd sparked in Shane seems entirely gone. "Hey, Shane?"

The other deputy turns, looking at Rick with a raised eyebrow. Carol pauses with the plates she's just assembled for both of them, wondering if they realize they're everyone's center of attention at the moment.

"Sorry I was an ass last night."

Shane's smile is genuine and happy in response to the short apology. "S'alright, brother. We're good." He takes one of the plates from Carol and nudges Rick with his shoulder so that he takes the other.

"You're in an awful good mood for this early in the morning," Rick comments as they both take a seat to eat. Carol considers if she can get away with swatting the man, although he may honestly not know that Scout was in camp last night. She was up and back over early enough no one was up yet but Carol and Glenn.

For a minute, the mischievous expression on Shane's face leads her to think he's going to reply with something naughty, but then he shrugs and says something about getting a good night's sleep before stuffing a pancake in his mouth.

Rick looks like he might want to question that further, but to Carol's relief, just nods and takes a bite of his food, gaze going toward Scout's position among the exercising group thoughtfully. Shane doesn't seem to notice the assessing look, intent on his food. He really does look better, more relaxed than Carol's seen him ever be.

Hopefully, Rick won't rock the boat.

~*~SW~*~

Shane's about to give up his spot in the camp chair to get ready for today's supply run when T-Dog draws everyone's attention toward where Merle and Morales are having what seems to be a somber discussion. Morales is already fully dressed for the run, since Scout's added a few extra of her team for when they see if they can take on the hospital today. Whatever's said seems to go well, because Morales sticks a hand out toward Merle and the older man shakes it. As Morales returns to helping Daryl prep for the supply run, Merle heads toward Shane's group.

"Not sure if I should be thinking oh shit or not," T-Dog mutters.

"Doubt it. Whatever he said to Morales, man was smiling," Shane notes. He does share a quick glance with Rick, who looks equally apprehensive as T-Dog.

Merle looks better and steadier than he did yesterday, although the sunburn is still vicious enough to make Shane want to flinch. His skin has the sheen of freshly applied cream or moisturizer, but it's peeling now, especially the spots that are blistered rather than just burned.

"I owe some apologies," he begins as soon as he comes to a halt. "Don't remember probably two-thirds of the last coupla months, but there's enough here," he taps his temple, "to know I got a lot to make up for that don't even include Atlanta."

Dale, ever the peacemaker, just smiles. "I can't say you're wrong there, but I think we understand what was wrong at least."

Merle shifts his weight and drags a hand across his chest. He controls the wince when his fingers contact sunburned skin and sighs. "Even so, I still had Daryl and people back home that needed me. Just couldn't quite give up and go back there, cos I knew my girls would hit Atlanta to try to find Glenn, and here my dumbass was in camp with him all along and didn't realize. I been clean near thirty years, but it ain't been so long I don't remember what that shit does to my brain."

That puts Shane a little on alert. "You used, before?"

"As a little teenage asshole, yeah." Merle scoffs at his past self. "Got clean after a particularly rough round of juvie, enlisted, managed to stay sober a long time. Hell, I was even a sponsor, trying to help other vets break free too. Wasn't much for the religious aspect of it, but the brotherhood of it..." He cuts himself off. "Figure Hershel and me can lean on each other. Different poisons, same result. But in the end, it ain't a good excuse. Morales gave me a good account of what happened in Atlanta."

No one speaks, although Shane thinks Andrea wants to snark and can't quite bring herself to it as the man gathers his thoughts, finally focusing on T-Dog.

"What I did to you, the words, the fight, those are bad enough. But the gun... I'm not asking any forgiveness for that cos there is none for what I did there. I deserved far more than getting my ass knocked sideways by the deputy for it. I may not remember what happened, but I apologize for it."

T-Dog looks uncomfortable, and Shane's not sure if it's the apology or residual guilt for Merle being left behind, but the man stands and thrusts a hand out toward Merle. "We both got a little stupid up there. I'll take my share of the blame."

Merle doesn't hesitate to take the offered hand, and they linger, taking each other's measure in a way that makes Shane wonder how well they'd have gotten along if Merle was sober when he hit camp. Both give a nod as they part, and T-Dog smiles. The man's easy forgiveness seems to spur others forward.

"Don't want an apology, Mister Dixon, but I'll settle for just starting over," Jacqui says, holding out her hand. "Gonna trust you to do better. Set a good example." She tilts her head to Sophia, who stood not far behind Merle, listening intently to the adults' exchange.

Merle took her hand for a moment, but then looked back over his shoulder at the girl.

Sophia smiles brightly. "I wasn't gonna interrupt when it's important, but Patricia sent me to fetch you. There's something wrong with the converter thing in the RV and she doesn't want it failing because of the medicines in the fridge, and Jazz says it's not the fan or the sensor, so he thinks it's the circuit board, and he's never replaced one before."

"Alrighty, Miss Phia. You can tell her I'll be right there."

The girl pauses long enough to hug her mother before dashing off.

"That something you'd be able to help Dale set up on his RV?" Shane asks, curious. They were going to do a run to that Grainger that T-Dog knew about today as well as the hospital, and he was hoping to lay hands on the right equipment.

Merle looks toward the old RV and rubs at the scruff on his chin. "Could, if I get the right parts. Might even get a kit in the church van there, to charge backup batteries. M'boy will know what to look for on today's run."

"Would you show us how it works?" Dale asks. "So we can maintain it? I looked into solar a while back, but it was just easier to use the gasoline generator or hookup at a campsite instead."

"Don't see it'd be a problem." Jazz appears in the camp entrance, looking anxious, so Merle bids them goodbye, passing Sophia on her way back.

She stops him. "Can we finish reading later? I wanna know what happens next."

He pats her on the shoulder with a "sure, sweetheart," and the girl returns to her mother's side, looking absolutely delighted.

Shane knows the incredulous looks on most the others' faces are mirrored on his, although after seeing the girl read to Merle yesterday, he supposes they shouldn't be surprised that Sophia's at ease around him.

"Whatcha reading with Merle?" he asks.

She plops into a seat with the plate Carol's given her and shrugs with one shoulder. "Right now, My Antonia. It was on my summer reading list to be ready for eighth grade."

Carol looks puzzled. "Where did you find the book?"

"Mister Daryl brought me a bunch of 'em, one time he said he was out hunting. They've all got library stamps on 'em, so I guess there's a library around somewhere close. I wrote down every title I could remember and he found all of them."

"I don't remember seeing you with any books," Carol says, looking sad and puzzled. Shane wracks his brain and can't really picture it either, but most of his memories of Sophia are when she was playing with Carl, and he's not much for sitting still and reading if it's not a comic book.

"I was afraid Dad might take them away. So, Mister Merle kept them for me since nobody's ever gonna mess with his stuff. If you were busy and Carl didn't want to play, lots of times I just go over and read. Nobody ever said I couldn't." She looks guilty, obviously aware she wouldn't have gotten permission to spend time around the Dixons if she asked. "Mister Merle wasn't high all the time, you know. He always asked questions, like he wanted a book report. And Mister Daryl said some of the books were too easy for me, so he brought some more back that he remembered reading in college. There were some others he remembered his nieces reading too."

"Daryl went to college?" Andrea's disbelieving tone causes Sophia, normally respectful, to give her a dirty look.

"Yeah, he did. Can I go see what they're doing with the electric system? It'd be cool to see how they fix it."

Carol nods and takes the empty plate after Sophia slaps a piece of Spam in between two pancakes to take with her. "Did you know about Merle's family, Sophia?"

"Yes. He told me after I asked why he was so angry about Dad when everyone else acted like people always do about him, that if they ignore it enough, it ain't happening." Her expression turns sour, harder than Shane's ever seen, especially directed at her mother. "You know what happened to Mister Merle's mama, don't you?"

The intake of breath tells Shane that Carol does know. He has a strong feeling it's not good.

"They ain't gonna stop him, Mama. But Mister Merle did and would." The girl huffs and whirls, feet pounding across the dirt as she runs off toward the other camp.

"Daryl told me what his father did, that he killed his mama," Carol says softly, without being asked. "And that one day, it might not be just me, that she'd try to protect me and get hurt too."

Shane leans forward, his intensity almost frightening him. "You're a smart woman, Carol. I'll bet you know the statistics better than me and Rick do on domestic violence. There's even less oversight on a man like Ed now. You wouldn't have your daughter practically living over there already if the decision wasn't already made. We failed you here... I failed you. Let me make up for it."

Carol struggles to stop crying and find words. It is obvious that the door to escape is wide open for her and Sophia and it has been for days. "Ed will find us," she says at last. "He did, the one time I tried."

"Difference now, Carol, is that the law doesn't exactly tie our hands where ole Ed is concerned," Shane intones. "You gather your things and go into that camp and there ain't no way that man is crazy enough to cross that line. And he has no way to know where they're headed or how to find them."

"And if he did somehow, I'm pretty sure he'll be shot and fed to the walkers," Glenn says. "You realize the girls are about two steps off luring you in an RV and locking you in a bathroom when they leave? Because honestly, they aren't gonna leave Sophia here, and she's not leaving without you."

That startles Carol into laughing through her tears. Shane can exactly picture Honey, especially, locking her in an RV bathroom until she is too far away to do anything about it. He thinks he might help.

Surprisingly, Andrea advocates for the plan. "Carol." She stops, glancing toward the tent where Ed sits alone at a fire, smoking and deliberately ignoring everyone else. "We should've done more, but we didn't. If this helps you... helps Sophia... maybe you should."

Carol scrubs away the tears and squares her shoulders. "Okay. Okay. I'll do it."

Shane nods and sets his cup aside so he can stand. "How about we go get your things together and get you settled over there for the night then?" He glances to Rick, who rises and adjusts his holster. Glenn gets a determined look and comes down from his RV post, passing the rifle to Dale. The young man has always had more backbone than most of his elders in camp.

He surprises everyone when he fishes a set of heavy-duty zip ties out of a pocket and passes them to Shane. "Since you don't have cuffs anymore," Glenn explains with a shrug. Shane laughs, twirling them for a minute before pocketing them.

"Alright. We'll try the nice way, just asking him to let you get yours and Sophia's things, Carol," he squares his shoulders and Carol seems to gather her own tattered courage and goes to approach her tent. Surprisingly, it's not just the two deputies who follow her, but Glenn too. Perhaps time with the Dixon camp is influencing him in boldness. But when Shane glances back, he realizes that the remaining men, plus Andrea and Jacqui, are on high alert, and the nearest person on watch for the Dixon camp has unexpectedly rotated to face their camp, and the weapon across her knees isn't the usual compound bow, but some sort of rifle.

Ed stands, obviously alert that something has changed in camp with Carol approaching with three men following. He looms over her, the creature out of all her nightmares, and Shane hopes she realizes that this is the last time she has to be afraid of him. "I'm here to get mine and Sophia's belongings, Ed," she announces. Her voice doesn't quaver once.

"I don't fucking think so. You ain't going anywhere," he spits out, making a move toward her. Rick and Shane cut him off easily, moving together like they always had in partnership.

"Well, Mister Peletier," Rick begins, "it's like this. None of us want a wife beater in camp. So, if you want any hope of staying in a group, you're going to let Carol and Sophia go over to the Dixon camp peacefully."

"Or what? Ain't like you can throw me in jail."

"General theory is that if you get caught making a move toward a female in this camp again, we're actually to have a reward system for who shoots you first," Shane drawls. "Pretty sure the lady on watch over there is praying you make a move just so she can shoot you. I hear she's been practicing her groin shots just for you."

Shane expects more bluster or more threats, but Ed looks to the three men with her, then the rest of their camp and finds no sympathy. He deflates and steps away from the tent flap, allowing himself to be herded back a safe distance. She steps into the tent and Glenn follows. Shane hears him joke about being her pack mule.

~*~CP~*~

Carol was helping sort the goodies from the massive two-part run today, still a little unsettled at the huge decision she made to move to the Dixon camp despite Sophia's shift from displeasure to joy when she brought their things over.

It seems almost simple and straightforward, this massive change in her circumstances. Merle's morning apology went over well, even if it did lead to Carol leaving Ed's domain at last.

Everything seems settled until T-Dog decides he needs to personally apologize to the two younger Dixon children in camp. She knows Honey's avoidance of him bothers the man, who hasn't forgiven himself for his actions on that roof. Jazz considers his words for a minute before nodding acceptance. But Honey... she takes on a mulish expression, shakes her head, and starts to walk off without replying.

Glenn steps close enough to put an arm around her shoulders and whisper in her ear. No one, not even Lori and her normal need to rabble rouse, interrupts the soft conversation Glenn is having with the girl.

Honey steps away from Glenn finally. She hesitates before finally looking directly at T-Dog. Her voice is strained as she speaks, and the pain in the girl's expression rips at Carol's heart. "You asked me, Mister Douglas, if I could forgive what you'd done. And I can't. I know I'm supposed to. I know it's the right thing to do. I know it's what my daddy wants me to do."

"You don't have to," T-Dog says, tone soft, sweet. He looks like he wants to cry at the girl's obvious pain. "It's not how forgiveness works. I can ask, but if what I did isn't something you can forgive, that's okay. That's your right."

She bites her lip, looking almost frantic in a way that is worrying Carol. "He's my only parent. I've never had anyone but him. He's never missed a school event up until we all had so many sports ones going that he couldn't make them all. When he couldn't be there for something, he made sure someone else was. When I had appendicitis when I was eight, he was the one with me at the hospital the whole time. Same when I had to have a surgical repair on a broken arm in lacrosse sophomore year. He went to every appointment and drove the PT crazy making sure everything was perfect for me. He's all I have." She pauses, tears running down her face now.

"I understand," T-Dog says. "You love your daddy." The big man is crying too. Then again, so is Carol.

"You gotta understand," Honey says, barely audible. "Leaving was a mistake. Not going back was a choice."

"Hannah."

Her head swivels when her father calls her by name.

"That's a lot of blame to put on a single man's shoulders, especially him," Merle says.

"You think I just blame him?" She looks like she wants to scream. "I blame all of them on that truck. And then they're going out on runs with our people and I wonder every time of someone else I love will be left to die because of they run instead of fighting."

"Hannah." Scout reaches her sister and touches her arm, only to have her whirl furiously and shove Scout away hard.

"No! You don't get to Hannah me. You paired that coward with Jazz today. You put him at our brother's back. Ain't right." She points her finger at her sister. "Ain't happening again. Jazz doesn't go out without somebody standing with him that'll die before they let him get left behind."

"Honey..."

But the teenager's reached the end of her rope and stalks off, brushing past her father without stopping. Scout tries to follow, but Merle blocks her path.

"Take a walk, darlin'. All following her now is gonna do is stir up the hurt more. Take Daryl and go terrorize the squirrels."

It looks like she's going to argue, but she finally bends to the firm resolve in her father's expression and walks away. Daryl snags his crossbow off the hood of his truck and follows. Merle takes a deep breath and goes after his younger daughter.

It leaves everyone looking unsettled, to have the girl's raw emotions poured out like that. Carl can't quite bring herself to rejoin her new camp. Hopefully, they won't mind an extra for supper here again.

~*~ CP ~*~

"Something tells me that everyone over here needs a little of this." Scout Dixon is actually looking at them compassionately, a bottle of rum held in offering. When no one objects to the idea, she joins them. Those with cups to hold them out. No one wants to turn down the dose of liquid courage.

Scout makes a hip check into Shane's shoulder, and the deputy looks up from his cup. Whatever the signal is she gives, he nods and slides his feet apart. She drops gracefully to the ground to sit cross-legged between his feet. Carol sees her fingers curl up and behind Shane's knee, similar to the night on the RV roof, but she suspects Scout is the one wanting comfort tonight.

"I told y'all when we first arrived that we had part of a team get stuck on a roof for two days once," Scout begins. She's staring at the fire. "Honey was part of it. It was her mistake that led to the team being overrun. Just a freaky small moment of inattentiveness that happens to all of us, and they were all scrambling. Half the team made it to the stairs, but Honey and Danny got cut off, and Danny's walkie had gotten damaged, and that was before we had the throat radios. They made it to the roof access. Danny couldn't bar the door from the inside so he... shoved Honey up the staircase, jammed the door from his side, and had a succession of dumb luck end up covering him with so much walker muck they lost interest in eating him. It took them four hours to wander off so he could stop playing dead."

"That poor girl," T-Dog says softly. "She thought he was dead, didn't she?"

The marine nods, turning away from the fire to watch T-Dog thoughtfully. "She thought he died to save her, a boy who had known her less than a month. She was up there for hours, alone. The other two had cleared the building to go for help, but that herd was so fucking massive everything we tried didn't help for two whole days. We didn't know if we were retrieving bodies or people."

Scout's eyes slide closed and she leans heavily into Shane's thigh for a moment before looking up, focusing on T-Dog.

"She's still so fucking _young_," the marine says huskily. "She was too damned good for the world before it went to hell. She doesn't understand being so scared you'd leave someone behind and not go back at all. When Danny got to the roof, she'd spent the last hour testing ledges and edges to see how she could climb over to get back down so she could at least kill the walkers she thought had eaten him. He said he about pissed himself thinking of her doing a free climb down that building just to retrieve his remains."

"Do you think she would have if she'd had enough time?" Shane asks. Carol notices he has a big hand tucked into the nape of Scout's hair now. She wonders if these two realize that nothing about their body language indicates a casual relationship and far more intensity than two nights together should indicate.

"Honestly, yes, she probably would have. We'd have gotten back into that building to find her defending his dead body, I think." Scout sighs. "I don't think we're going to be here long enough for her to work through enough of it to really be able to talk to you, T-Dog. Hell, today's the first progress we've had in her forgiving herself for the disaster on the roof in Valdosta and that was weeks ago. She's refused to be on Danny's team since then, only goes out if she can be on mine or Jamie's teams."

"Maybe she's too young for going out?" Rick suggests, almost tentatively. Carol wants to say the same, but how did you decide that, in this hellish new world of theirs?

"If I could have wrapped her in bubble wrap and rolled her back to Georgia... hell, I wish I could do that to all of them. But this isn't going away. And there was no real way to keep them protected and move them along when we were in Florida. Christ, it was a nightmare just keeping Lizzie and Mika safe when the group was so small and I had an extra Marine then too." She rolls the bottle back and forth in her hands. "Arguing the seventeen-month difference of age between Honey and Danny seems pretty hypocritical. And the number of kids barely older than her that had boots on the ground in Iraq and Afghanistan would make any sane person cry. The peace you have to make with yourself to survive a warzone... that's something you have to find yourself. She's getting there. This is just more complicated because it was Merle and because somewhere along the line, Honey absorbed the basic tenant of military brotherhood - no man left behind."

"Did she never know her mother?" Carol asks softly. She hopes it isn't intrusive, but the Dixons usually seem to like her.

"No." Scout goes so completely still and quiet that Carol thinks she's offended her. But then she speaks again. "Lilliana is a mother only in the sense that she gave birth to children. But Honey's had no contact with her since she was three weeks old. Not one birthday card, not one request for supervised visitation, not one Jerry Springer type visit demanding her babies, nothing. She's been living in Texas for the last six years. My birthday present for myself each year is hiring a PI to make sure she's maintaining the exact level of unmotherly care she always has."

Shane looks puzzled but doesn't speak, which makes Carol curious. But she feels she should soothe her intrusive question. "It sounds like she hasn't lacked for it," she ventures.

"I know y'all picturing Merle as a member of the PTA is a stretch, but he honest-to-God was. Those damn women know a sucker when they see one and it's always build this, haul that, oh so lovely Mister Dixon raising all those little ones alone."

T-Dog looks less stricken now, more thoughtful and concerned. "I'll leave Miss Honey be then. Figure she'll come to find me if she changes her mind anyway."

"I appreciate it." Scout tilts the still mostly full bottle out toward Dale. "You can hang on to this for the next time everyone needs a little extra."

The older man takes it. "You didn't have any?"

"I don't drink. Family proclivity toward addiction, you've probably noticed." She smiles slightly as she leans back, drawing a little pattern against Shane's leg. Carol notices he responds with a double tap of his index finger against her collarbone. A signal? The ones who went out had to recognize hand signals. Scout stands, the motion a smooth one from cross-legged to standing that Carol envies. "Gonna go rack out before watch. Y'all have a good night."

Several people murmur goodbyes and she makes her way not to camp, but to the flatbed truck, where she rummages a sleeping pad out of the toolbox, rolls it out, and stretches out to nap. Carol supposes she probably doesn't want to disturb her distressed sister, who was tucked off into their tent.

"What was that signal all about?" Jackie asks curiously.

Shane shrugs. "It's personal." He plays with his empty cup rather than keep speaking though.

"Y'all are real cozy. Bet she's trying to get you to leave us and take some of our help," Lori grumbles.

The big deputy snorts. "Lori, if you think someone could make me leave my family, you don't know me at all. And no way she'd ask, either."

"You sure?" Rick asks, looking desperate to play peacemaker between his wife and best friend, but Carol doesn't think that's the best way for it.

"Yeah. Real sure." Shane drops his cup in the dish pan and walks off toward the quarry lake again, posture not quite last night's angry defeat, but unhappy.

Rick looks upset, but doesn't attempt to follow. Something about his expression makes her wonder if he wants Shane to leave, but just isn't brave enough to voice it yet.

Carol bids them all goodnight while she's still willing to keep her mouth shut.


	11. Gossipy Investigation

**July 24, 2010**

~*~CP~*~

Carol lies in the tent listening to the quiet breathing of the girl beside her. She was offered several options to sleep, with everyone willing to shift a little to accommodate a new permanent member to their camp. Sophia was sleeping in one of the RVs for a few nights, sleepovers with Lizzie and Isabelle, but she didn't feel right either asking Ryan to give up sleeping in the RV as extra protection to the children or to ask Sophia to sleep outside in a tent. Honey's grin when she finally conceded to the girl's offer that there was an ongoing free spot in her tent made her feel a bit better at sleeping in what she knew was Scout Dixon's spot. It is obvious that the eldest Dixon daughter has full intentions of keeping up her overnights with Shane for now. Things might shift around when they get on the road, but for now, she has a spot to call her own, and to give a little joy to Honey Dixon after the evening's earlier distress feels good.

Glancing to the other side of the tent, she can see the sprawled form of Tara under a light sheet, left to finish out the night alone when Cricket went on watch around four in the morning. Glenn left then for his own shift, leaving his sleeping bag rolled up near the door. Tara and Cricket were both as welcoming as Honey to their new "roommate", and Glenn grinned as if he orchestrated it. Lying here feels almost decadent, after so many years of making absolutely sure to be awake and out of bed before Ed woke. Just waking up to the orange tent above her instead of the blue walls of Ed's tent is a reminder that she has escaped at last, that if Ed gathers up some courage and attempts to enter the camp, it won't be jail he'll be hauled off to, but likely an unmarked grave in the woods.

She has no doubt that every one of the watch standers for the night shift would follow through on the camp wide order that he be shot on sight if he crosses the unofficial line between the camps. It worried her, Sophia hearing that, since Ed is her father after all. But her daughter hugged her tightly and muttered about keeping her safe, and Carol can't decide if she is relieved to actually feel safe for the first time in two decades or horrified that her daughter is willing to see her father dead to keep him away from them. She should have saved Sophia herself years ago, before it got to the point where an almost thirteen-year-old girl has that sort of thought going through her head.

Wriggling a little to free her arm from the sheet she slept under, she sees it was just after 6:30. She knows the camp in general is usually up by seven, but she isn't sure how light a sleeper either of her companions are if she goes ahead and gets up. Since her bladder is getting a bit impatient, she reluctantly guesses she is about to find out. Sure enough, as soon as she sat up, both girls wake just enough to ascertain what the movement is. Tara returns to sleep almost immediately, but she had watch until midnight. Honey smiles far too brightly for someone who just woke up, but surprises Carol by rolling over and appearing to be going back to sleep as well. Teenage snooze button ability, she supposes.

Slipping on her shoes, she leaves the tent and makes her way to the little tarped alcove that hides the camp toilet. Both watch standers glance her way, Cricket waving in greeting, but no one speaks in the early morning stillness. The just-rising sun gives her enough light to look around once her bladder's alert is negated, and she hesitates, unsure of what to do with herself. In the old camp, she'd start breakfast, but she doesn't want to tread on any toes. Yesterday, she finished out chores with the old camp. She was told last night that they'd sort out her place in the chore rotations over here today and to take advantage of the time to relax.

Before she can decide, movement from one of the men's tents draws her attention. Jazz emerges, the young man smiling shyly as soon as he spots her and heads her way, obviously in need of the camp toilet himself. "Mornin', Miz Carol. If you wanna go sit by the fire, I'll show you where the coffee is in a minute," he offers.

"Thanks." She makes her way to one of the camp chairs, having noticed the night before that they seem as much community property as the ones near the fire on the other side were. It doesn't take long for Jazz to reappear, going to fill a kettle from a nearby jug and then place it on a hook over the fire. He unbanks the fire and has it built up enough to heat water in a matter of minutes.

"We've been using these single use coffee packets, like tea bags, since there's less waste that way according to Miz Patricia," he explains. He hands her box with a variety of the coffee individual brew bags, multiple types of tea, and some other packets that she recognizes as specialty coffee powders like lattes. "They cleaned out a couple of coffee shops at different times. Plus, Miz Patricia doesn't think this stuff'll last as long as the sealed cans so it needs to be used up."

Carol selects a packet of flavored coffee powder and one of the disposable bamboo stirrers. She always wanted to try the product, but Ed considered it a waste of money. Jazz pokes around in the box until he finds a packet of peppermint tea for himself. He returns the box to its spot under the table they used for serving meals and retrieves two mugs, passing one to Carol. He sits down to wait on the kettle, sending her another shy smile. It is interesting, the contrast between Jazz and his sisters, especially the hyperactive and talkative younger two. Up close, watching his mannerisms, she is beginning to think he is younger than her original estimation, maybe even enough that he should be referred to as boy and not young man. Despite his looks, he reminds her more of Daryl than Merle, at least the Merle she knew before the Atlanta run.

"Everything is so well organized," she says at last.

"Scout's good at this stuff. And good at finding people who know how to do what she doesn't." He turns the empty cup in his hands a few times. "She was away a lot when I was little. I'm glad she was with us when this happened."

"How much older is she than you?"

"A month short of twelve years. She left for boot camp the year I started kindergarten."

A quick calculation tells Carol that makes Jazz the baby of the family by a couple of years, since Daryl said he was thirty and Scout three years younger. So Jazz is fifteen or so? It explains Shane's puzzled look when Scout said their mother had been gone since Honey was a baby, since Jazz is obviously a few years younger than his sister. Then again, no one ever confirmed that the four siblings all have the same mother. Just because Jazz has the same dark hair and skin as his sisters didn't guarantee the same mother.

"You aren't that much older than Sophia then. She'll be thirteen the end of this month."

Again, a glimpse of the shy smile. "She likes having the same birthday as Harry Potter."

Ah. Well, at least the burgeoning crush she saw clearly from her daughter last night when Jazz was surrounded by the younger kids while he read from some book or another is possibly returned, and the worry she had about the potential age difference is gone knowing Jazz is closer to boy than man still in both age and personality. "She used to say it was the best reward for being one of the youngest in her class."

"Better than mine. I never caught up until after school started for the next year." At her questioning look, he continues. "My birthday's the end of August. That's when I turn fifteen. I've always been the youngest in my class, except for one year that there was a girl who skipped a grade, but she moved away."

The water starts boiling, and Jazz carefully pours some into both their mugs before rehanging the kettle and swinging the hook where the water stays warm but not boiling. Carol mixes her drink, watching as the sun rises further and others start to make their way sleepily from tents and RV toward the camp toilet. The strong scent of peppermint wafts over from Jazz's cup as she checks the time. About ten til seven. If the routine holds to what she's seen from the other camp, everyone will be rousted soon, although the exercise routine they do seems to be only an every other day thing and they did that yesterday. She has another day to figure out how she'll manage that, although Sophia was with them yesterday and seemed to be keeping up well enough.

"You're used to being busy," Jazz says. His smile doesn't disappear as quick this time, meant to reassure.

She laughs a little, wondering at being so transparent a boy his age can read it. Then again, he seems more observant than most teenage boys. "I always make breakfast over there, but I'm not sure of the routine or amounts or anything here to help get started. Just sitting to drink coffee feels a little odd."

"Well, if it's like the other times we've had new people, they'll let you try a few things and see where you fit. But mostly, it'll be learning defense stuff, I think, more than chores." He glances to where Patricia has bypassed the fire to one of the busses, obviously going for whatever breakfast supplies she wants to use. "I don't have watch today, and after yesterday, I don't wanna upset Honey by going on a run. Was going to do some more archery lessons for Meghan and Sophia. You could learn too, if you want. We might do a forage trip too, since we don't have to be so careful about stripping all the plants away here."

Carol thinks it over. It would be good to learn and taking the lessons alongside Sophia actually sounds like a good start to their life independent of Ed. She doesn't want to be a burden and that means learning more than cooking and cleaning. She isn't regulated to washing clothes here, after all. "That sounds good to me, as long as I'm not needed on camp chores."

Jazz smiles. It's brighter now. She realizes that every smile has gotten a little bigger, a little more assured. He's growing more comfortable in her presence. It distracts her enough that she doesn't notice Merle until he's actually lowering his bulk into the chair beside her, glancing between her and his son. She shrinks in a bit, out of habit more than worry about the big man, but he still frowns a little. He's dressed in cargo pants and a tank top that exposes his healing sunburn, and he pauses to take a drink out of a bottle of Gatorade as he looks from her to Jazz again. Carol reminds herself that this is the only man who threatened Ed before last night. Like most of the inhabitants of the camp, he's armed, although unlike Jazz, who just carries a knife at his belt, she gets a glimpse of a handgun holstered at his back waistband.

"You looking after the lady, son?" he says at last.

The boy nods as he reaches out to flick the kettle back over the fire. "Showed her the coffee and offered she could join the archery lessons today."

Others are approaching now. Carol is a little surprised at the soft greetings they're all three given, although Jazz's are more enthusiastic as the boy pulls the coffee box back out and holds it out for folks to rummage for favorites in.

Merle coughs softly, drawing her attention back to him. She avoided him so thoroughly before that she never really noticed he has the same pretty blue eyes as Daryl and the children. Although they do stand out a bit more due to the sunburn, so maybe that's part of it. He leans in, voice soft. "Jazz doesn't take to women much, aside from his sisters."

It surprises Carol to hear that, as Jazz never seemed standoffish to her, although this morning is the first time Sophia hasn't been there as a buffer. "He's been very good with Sophia. Honey too."

"Just glad m'girl didn't have to resort to her kidnapping plot," Merle replies, flashing her a grin. "Least there's no one to make it a felony on her now if she had."

Carol can't help but laugh a little, surprising herself. "She said last night that she and Sophia had a good plan. Glenn implied I was going to be locked in a bathroom."

The eldest Dixon's grin widens, but he takes a long drink of the Gatorade before replying. "She's already lured your daughter to the dark side. Guess you're next on the list."

"You sound like I'm going to have her robbing banks or something, Daddy," Honey says. She's obviously been through the drink queue her brother is holding, because she has a steaming mug that smells as minty as his had. She leans down to press a kiss to Merle's cheek, accepting the return affection with a cheery smile before parking herself to stand behind Merle's camp chair. But her expression is a little more serious than Carol's seen it outside of yesterday's confrontation with T-Dog. Carol notes that she isn't wearing a vest to cover her shoulder holster and gun, not this early and in camp. "I adopted Sophia as a sister, so her Mama is family too now. You be nice."

That startles Carol. Joining the camp was one thing, but being drawn into the Dixon clan itself seemed beyond what she thought was happening. Her bewilderment must show, because Merle sighs a little.

"It's a bit of a family inside joke," he explains. "After Scout brought Jamie home for the first time and we more or less adopted him into the family, the other girls said they each get to adopt in a new sibling too."

Honey nods. "Cricket's working on Glenn. I got Sophia. Jazz is just slow on the uptake." The boy either doesn't hear or ignores the drawled sisterly jab.

"Did you ask Sophia or just inform her you were adopting her?" Merle asks.

The teenager giggles. "Forgiveness is easier than permission?"

"Which explains why you've been grounded more than all your siblings total," Merle says, sending Carol the sort of exasperated glances parents often shared about naughty children.

Honey just shrugs, taking a big drink out of her mug of tea before offering it to Sophia as she approaches the growing crowd around the fire. "Try this before you go find a drink," she suggests.

Sophia takes the drink, smiling over the mug at Carol. It takes a minute for Carol to realize that the girls are dressed almost completely alike, only their boots differing in color. Even though she brought Sophia's clothing over last night, it seems her daughter's still adapting and borrowing. "It's good," the younger girl proclaims.

Honey motions for her to keep the mug and flips two folding camp stools out from behind Merle's chair. She sets up one for Sophia just forward of Carol's chair and puts her own in front of Merle's. Honey pops a bottle of water from her waist carrier and drinks, leaning her back against her father's knees. It makes it obvious the tea is really for Sophia and Carol feels a little ripple of affection for the older girl run through her. Sophia glances at Honey's relaxed posture against Merle and slowly slides back on her stool to lean against Carol similarly. Carol can't resist running a gentle hand over her daughter's complexly braided hair, which has four pretty braids. There are emerald green ribbons in her hair that match the T-shirt she is wearing. The ribbons weave along the side of her head, adding a splash of color between each pair of braids.

"Daddy? Think you can do my hair up like Sophia's?" Honey asks.

Merle shrugs. "You got ribbons and ties? And a comb?" The teenager hands him a pouch and Carol watches, a little astounded, as the man makes quick work of combing through his daughter's hair and doing up the braids themselves. He does fumble the ribbons a little, his fingers finding weaving the colored strips of fabric harder than braiding her dark hair itself, but the finished hairstyle is on par with Sophia's. She supposes a single father of three daughters knowing how to braid shouldn't really be surprising.

Curious, Carol taps her daughter's shoulder to draw her attention from where she's watching Merle braid Honey's hair. "Who did your hair this morning, sweetie?"

"Isabelle. She did mine and Lizzie's and Donna did Mika's and Isabelle's. All the same except for ribbon colors. Andy wanted ribbons too, but his hair is too short, so Isabelle talked him into a couple of red beads instead."

That's more names than Carol can really put to faces. She knows most of those are children who've been mentioned and somewhere in the mass of introductions she'd gotten last night, she remembered Donna as the woman who was half of the couple who served as "den parents" to the children who slept on the RV that Sophia had joined. But the toddler mentioned is easy enough to spot. The little box braids he usually wore now sported tiny, fire engine red beads to match the Iron Man T-shirt he wore. He is comfortably settled on Hershel's lap, eating dry cereal out of an individual serving box while breakfast is cooked. She remembers that both he and Isabelle are orphans and her heart constricts that the toddler will probably never remember his parents or even life before the dead rose.

The girls have leaned forward, talking over something from a book with occasional comments to Jazz now that everyone who wants a hot drink seems to have gotten one. Carol looks over to Merle. "What will happen to the kids like Andy?" she asked him.

Merle looks toward the boy thoughtfully. "Once we're settled, someone will take permanent responsibility. Isabelle's still young enough to need at least one parent, and Andy's probably best with one of the couples. Might find more survivors as we go too."

And potentially more orphans, Carol thinks. Parents will take more risks, especially if their kids are going hungry, and few people were trained or prepared for a world like this. "Will there be room for everyone?"

"Maybe not immediately, other than lumped up a bit like we are now, but there's room to build. Got three houses on the property already, plus a cabin and three barns, coupla outbuildings, critter pens."

"That's a lot more than we have here," she manages. She can't quite picture the size of the place.

"It's a remote place. Came with the first house and one of the barns. We built the rest over the years. One house is Daryl's, although it's been mostly unoccupied the last few years since he transferred over to Thomson. The other isn't much more than a cottage, but it's where the kids' adopted grandma lives. She helped me out a lot when they were little. Was my housekeeper, really, but loved the kids too much not to be family. Scout made building the cabin a hobby when she'd come home on leave."

"And the animals?" Might as well ask, since he seems open to chatter about it. If he has barns and pens, he has animals.

"When we took off for Atlanta, Glynnis was still there and she's capable of running the whole place herself even if she is pushing seventy now. Neighbor from down the road a ways is there too. Told them they could move onto the property if things got bad and bring any of his workers that needed it and bring the kids. Mine's more secure than theirs since he did farming that didn't need fencing. We've always been more hobby farm than anything else, more stuff to fit the kids' current 4H projects than anything else, but the previous owner liked privacy. Whole sixty-three acres is fenced pretty securely."

Honey was obviously listening in, because she snorts as she accepts two bowls of breakfast and passes one to Merle. Sophia does the same for Carol with a chipper thank you to Beth as she passes out food. "Previous owner was a privacy freak, Daddy. Be honest. Even the river bank isn't a way in."

When Carol looks to Merle for his reaction, he shrugs. "It's not so much fenced as a nightmare thicket all around. Crazy bastard planted honey and black locust with blackthorn, osage orange, and a few other thorny species, then ran concertina wire along the inside. We haven't maintained the concertina wire, because next to nothing can get through the thorn thicket, and that damned thing keeps trying to spread past the wire. Might reinforce with something more solid though."

"You think it'll keep the dead out?" Carol asks. She remembers what honey locust is like, a childhood memory of her grandfather saying the thorns could puncture tractor tires. The others she remembers aren't as bad, but still no fun to brush up against.

"The dead, yeah. The living are more why I want to reinforce it."

Carol nods. The living are more dangerous than the dead. At least the dead want only one thing from the living. Further conversation is interrupted by Patricia summarily dropping a can of Boost into Merle's lap as she smiles at Carol.

"If Jazz hasn't already invited you to join in his archery lesson today, Carol, I was going to suggest that or start some basic self-defense work whichever Marine doesn't go on today's run. Or both. We're not really hurting for the chore roster, so I'd rather see you skill building primarily. Use free time to shadow anyone you like and learn about how we do things. But a lot of what we do now is because we're on the road. It'll shift and change once we're not traveling all the time."

"That sounds fine." Actually, it sounds a little intimidating, but at least she is allowed to help out rather than be bored, because surely self-defense and archery lessons can't take up a whole day.

Patricia eyes Merle for a moment. "Maybe you can help keep this one in line. He keeps overexerting himself."

"Now, Miz Patricia, I don't exactly need a babysitter," Merle begins, but the woman arches a brow at him, and he sighs. "Fine. I'll shadow the ladies here so they can make sure I'm behaving m'self."

Carol's not really sure what she can do to keep Merle in line if the man doesn't want to rest as ordered, although it doesn't seem he wants to argue about it much. And she can't say having a man Ed is already afraid of underfoot isn't a good thing. He let her go far too easily yesterday.

~*~CP~*~

"Hot damn, woman, remind me not to piss you off," Merle exclaims, walking back toward her with the paper target he affixed to a tree when he offered an impromptu handgun lesson. The air pistol lessons aren't as good as the real thing, he explained, because they don't have the same recoil, but an actual firearm lesson would wait until they are at the Dixon homestead. He waves the paper at Sophia. "Check out what your mama did."

Sophia grins as she pokes at the target, one of the expensive ones from a sporting goods store that Honey and her compatriots liberated along with the air guns and ammunition. "You shoot like the cops on TV, Mama."

Carol squirms a little, unused to the positive attention, especially as Patricia, the watch stander closest to where Merle set them up for the lesson, motions for Sophia to bring the target over and gives Carol a thumbs-up. The audience from the original camp doesn't help, and it is a big one, considering the supply runners returned mid-afternoon. None of them crossed over yet, still wary of Merle, although Glenn is nowhere to be seen. She can tell that Carl definitely wants to, especially when Carol hands off the air pistol to Sophia. Sophia carefully loads a new magazine into the air pistol.

"Lessee if you can do as well as your mama," Merle encourages, tacking up a fresh target and coming back to Sophia. "You remember how I showed her?"

Sophia nods, expression serious as she carefully thumbs off the safety on the pistol. Merle makes a gentle correction in how she was holding her elbow before stepping back a little. She bites her bottom lip as she fires off seven shots and thumbs the safety back on. The big man heads down to retrieve the target, but Carol can already tell from the colorful splatters on the target that Sophia has done well for her first time shooting anything. She hasn't even owned a Nerf gun before, yet she's landed all seven shots within the target. Carol supposes three days' worth of archery lessons probably helps her focus on the target.

This is the easy part of the day, though. The harder part was the self-defense lessons, especially with letting Sophia start them. Jamie, the Marine who pretty much stayed in camp since they arrived, was patient, bringing in some of the other girls to demonstrate what they were taught. Sophia took to it like a duck to water. Carol was more hesitant, even though the logical part of her brain told her that the odds of her hurting the six-foot-plus Marine are pretty slim. He and Merle both assured her it would just take time.

The most surprising part is Jamie's easy nature around Merle - even calling him Pops. Being told he was considered family due to Scout is different than seeing the affectionate relationship he has with Merle.

Carol's glance to the other camp drew Merle's attention as he replaces the target to let Sophia try again. "I'm thinking they're wanting to see how you survived your first full day over here," he suggests softly. "Especially with the looks they're giving me."

"Probably." She sighs, watching as Sophia fills another target with colorful splotches, the girl's expression as serious as if she holds a Glock instead of an air pistol.

"Go reassure them. Have a visit. Doubt the dead weight is going to make an appearance with two cops in camp."

"Alright." She leaves Sophia with Merle, who is already comparing the two targets to give her tips on making the third one even better. Their audience doesn't even attempt to look busy as she approaches.

"They're turning you into Annie Oakley over there," Jacqui quips, grinning. "Or Robin Hood, the way the mini-Merle had you going with the bow this morning."

"It was easier than I thought it would be," Carol responds. "Although he did admit the bow is intended as a youth bow." She'll have to build up some upper body strength to move to the type of bow Honey uses. "I suppose all those push-ups they do on exercise mornings have a payoff."

Apparently standing around has lost its appeal, as Carol finds herself ushered into a seat as the others sit too. From the looks on their faces, this is as much about information and gossip as following up that she feels she made the right decision. She braces herself for negativity from Lori and maybe Andrea, but the others' expressions all look mostly curious.

"How'd you end up with a Merle-sized shadow all day?" Andrea asks. "Can't imagine that'd be comfortable."

"Patricia actually proposed it more as me babysitting him. He's been pushing his recovery time too much for the medical folks' comfort." She hesitates. "And he was never ugly to me like he was to the other ladies, so I suppose it's easier for me."

"He seems downright calm," Dale observes. "If I saw him now, I'd think it was two different men entirely."

"He says the heat stroke probably made it easier to flush his system clean of everything he put in it." Carol doesn't feel like that was an overshare. Merle's recovery is pretty much an open book, with his own camp treating the drug-use factor as just a facet of the larger heat stroke issue.

"Sophia isn't afraid of him, that's for sure," T-Dog says, jerking his head towards where the girl has flung her arms around Merle's waist in an enthusiastic hug.

"Probably hard for her to be intimidated by a guy who braids his kid's hair before breakfast," Carol says absently, looking toward her happy daughter, who is following Merle's instructions to use the hand pump to refill the gun.

"Seriously?" Andrea asks, expression disbelieving. Carol can't blame her. She'd have felt the same way before she met the Dixon children.

"Yeah. One of the girls likes to braid hair and got it all started, but Honey doesn't bunk with the rest of the younger girls in the RVs, so she asked Merle to braid her hair like Sophia's while we were waiting on breakfast."

"Where'd you get bunked in?" Jacqui asks. "They seem a bit pressed for space. Not a lot of tents."

Carol glances toward Shane. "There was an empty sleeping bag over there with the Dixon girls." The others catch on and several laugh, while Shane only shrugs with a lazy smile. "A lot more restful even with two of the girls and Glenn on night watch."

"Two? Thought the youngest girl only did day watch?" Rick says, frowning.

"Well, officially, Tara's not a Dixon, but she and Cricket seemed pretty intent on each other. She had evening watch and Cricket had dawn."

"And no one has a problem with a lesbian couple there?" Andrea asks. She accepted Merle's apology yesterday, but it seems forgetting some of Merle's slurs is going to be a longer time actually coming.

"Not that I can see. And they were cuddled together sitting between Merle and Daryl before Tara had to go on watch."

"He was sitting on the RV on watch with Tara a while yesterday," Amy adds. "They were even laughing. It was weird to see, but he never really fussed at me either. Guess we know why now."

Considering Amy falls neatly in the age ranges of the girls, Carol can imagine. Even the drug haze didn't erase all of Merle's innate personality.

"Am I going to get to learn to shoot? Honey gave Shane those pistols." Carl asks, his attention more on where Sophia and Merle are intently walking through cleaning the air pistol, a lesson Carol will have to play catchup on.

"I don't think children should learn to shoot guns of any type," Lori says. Carol watches the long-suffering looks on both Shane and Rick's faces, as Carl's turns thunderous.

"I'm not a baby, Mom. I'm older than most of the kids that have gotten lessons over there. It's not like I'm asking to shoot an actual gun. They're just BB guns, right, Shane?"

The big deputy looks a bit cornered at being bought into the discussion. "The ones she gave me, yeah. The one Sophia's using is a bit more complicated than a BB gun."

"What do you mean?" Amy asks. "Aren't BB guns all the same?"

Shane shakes his head. "The ones Honey gave me are BB pistols, used for beginners more often. They're considered target shooters. Small ammo, little CO2 cartridges. Hurts to get shot with one, and they can kill squirrels, rats, and small birds, but shouldn't be used because they aren't humane since they might just wound. I'm guessing more what that one is, but it's a PCP pellet pistol. Instead of CO2 cartridges, it has a refillable tank, like that air rifle I carry on supply runs." Carl nods, more alert than Carol has ever seen him to an adult in lecture mode. Lori looks about to blow, but hasn't yet interrupted Shane, maybe because Amy asked the question. "If she could get close enough, Sophia could safely hunt squirrels with that and probably rabbits and woodchucks and so on."

"He said the pellets were 22s? The older kids that are hunting are using air rifles that are the same," Carol adds hesitantly. Merle explained the gun carefully to her and Sophia, but Shane obviously knows as much about them as Merle.

"Then yeah, it's a step up from the BB guns we were given. You can learn to target shoot with any of them, but that's one that can do a bit more damage than the target shooters." Shane gives Carl a look as serious as the one Merle gave Sophia in explaining the air pistol to her. "They aren't toys, not even the BB guns, Carl. Notice just how much time Sophia's spent learning about the gun versus shooting it."

And that is the end of Lori's silence. "He's not learning. Not any of them." She turns on Carol. "I can't believe you're letting him teach a little girl how to shoot a gun that can kill things!"

Carol stiffens, fighting off the instinctive reaction to bow down under a raised voice. "She isn't a little girl anymore. If she was in school still, her school even offered an archery club as young as fourth grade, but Ed wouldn't let her participate. Her middle school had a full-fledged archery team offered as one of the athletic options, and I'm pretty sure the high school had a riflery team like the Dixon kids' school did. As for whether or not the gun can kill things, a baseball bat can kill things just as easily, but kids even younger play baseball."

Lori's eyes narrow and her expression is pinched. "They aren't taught to hit anything other than a baseball with a baseball bat."

"Maybe you think there are going to be supermarkets and butchers to provide your food sometime soon, but I don't. I'll bet everyone who went into Atlanta will agree with what Scout is saying that the government is gone, Lori. You can make the choice to be an ostrich, to be afraid of everything like I did for so long, but I'm not going to do that anymore. Especially not where Sophia is concerned. She's almost thirteen and she has always been responsible. So, every skill that anyone wants to teach her that means she's stronger for it, I'm going to be learning right with her. I'm done being poor, trapped Carol and dragging my daughter down with me." Her heart rate is higher than she thinks it has ever been, even in fear of Ed as the words she's saying sink in. It has been building for days, but today's lessons let it spill over. From the expressions of most of the group, she's stunned them by her vehemence.

Lori seems to be unable to find words, so Jacqui intervenes. "Saw the Marine doing self-defense class over there earlier. Sophia did really well for a beginner."

The compliment to her daughter makes Carol smile. "Yeah, she did. Jamie says she doesn't have any hesitation and listens well. He promised us jiu-jitsu and krav maga lessons once we're not traveling. Says he's going to teach all the kids and anyone else who hasn't learned. It's going to be a requirement for their group. And Scout's going to teach eskrima. That one uses weapons, and Jamie said it's really useful if you're stuck on the ground with walkers."

"And you're going to let Sophia learn that one too?" Amy asks. She looks genuinely curious.

"Of course. If she ever got separated from the adults, I want her to be able to do more than just climb to a high place and pray someone can find her. I'm going to learn it myself."

"Who is going to be doing all the regular work while all this training is happening?" Lori asks, tone snotty.

"You act like we were busy dawn to dusk with nothing but chores here, Lori," Carol says with a sigh. "Easy enough to share out the chores so everyone can work and train both, and not everyone needs to train or will have to take as long to learn. Plus, if their place held out like they think, it's already off-grid because they were remote. Solar and generators for electric and well water with secure property lines already. It won't be like returning to life before, but it won't be making do like we have to do here in camp."

"They've got a lot of people already to house," Jacqui notes. "But it sounds like you're pitching for us go along."

Carol nods. "You'd be welcome. I don't think anyone's going to extend an engraved invitation, but the biggest reason you couldn't come would be if you couldn't deal with it being Merle's property. But he worked in construction, and even before they found Merle and Daryl again, they were sketching out ideas to expand housing fast. If nothing else, liberating a bunch of RVs would get everyone out of tents."

"And the place is big enough?" Dale looks genuinely curious, glancing between Amy and Andrea. It makes sense to Carol, that he wants someone safe for the ladies he's looking after. "Especially if the lady really has taken in other survivors? Shane reported more than a dozen, but mostly children."

"Yeah. It's got river access too, and not so far from several reservoirs, Lake Arrowhead, Lake Lanier, and Lake Altoona that a well-armed group couldn't fish on day trips. Last night I saw Merle and Hershel with a couple of notebooks the others had started, planning out how to convert the property to make it self-sustaining as possible. They're trying to sort out skill gaps, since many of their group don't have applicable skills, but are willing to learn new ones if they can," Carol explains.

"Not many of us have skills to contribute," Jacqui notes. "Jim's a mechanic, and I guess the two deputies would obviously be a good resource."

"Well, on that basis, neither do I, but like I said when they asked me last night, I'm willing to try to learn whatever's needed. You've been on two supply runs with them so far, Jacqui, so you know they're willing to teach if you're willing to learn." Carol turns to T-Dog. "You know how to drive a big truck, right? Didn't you say you had a CDL one time?"

T-Dog nods. "Worked as a substitute bus driver sometimes."

"See? That's the kind of thing. You can drive - and you could teach others. Gathering supplies for the long-term for a bigger group is going to need that." Carol feels emboldened, as if she can contribute to their safety by convincing them to go with the Dixons. She's not sure how they'll be able to abandon Ed as easily then, but she can't let that factor in right now. She has gotten hints when so much information was dumped her way last night and over the course of the day that she is considered the go-between in a way that Glenn isn't.

Shane is looking at Rick thoughtfully, the two men's expressions making her think that their long friendship and work partnership lets them communicate without words better than most people. If she has to hazard a guess, Shane is willing to go, but Rick is unconvinced. Lori is probably the factor there. She can't imagine that Rick hasn't put two and two together about Lori's antagonism towards Shane yet.

She isn't the only one noticing their interaction and Dale speaks up. "What do the two of you think?"

Rick sighs. "I wish I knew. It's a big commitment to travel to an unknown location with people we've just met."

"Everybody here was new to the others at one point, for the most part," Shane says. He's turned away from Rick now, observing Merle and Sophia, who are working on another target. "I guess the question is, do we trust Glenn's judgment, who has known two of the girls for months, and what the rest of us have seen on runs and Carol's observations. There's the option of King County, but we'd be racing to get any livable areas fenced in."

"Do you think Scout would be willing to trade run partners tomorrow? Or at least for the ride into the city?" Andrea asks. She looks thoughtful, more like the attorney she says she was than Carol has ever seen before.

"Probably. I can pair up with one of the others well enough. You wanting to partner up with her tomorrow?" Shane asks. Andrea nods. "It's a good idea. Think you're feeling up to a run too, Rick? See how it works? I know they're starting to really get anxious to get back on the road."

"Sounds good. Might ask to be paired off with Daryl," Rick replies. Lori looks like she wants to argue, but surprisingly, doesn't. Carol supposes that even Lori realizes Rick's got to do supply runs sometimes, and at least the Dixon-led trips have returned everyone in one piece each time and relatively on schedule.

"I'm not sure Scout is the only one we need to check out," Dale says. "What about Merle himself? Hasn't Scout been away with the military for years?" Everyone turns to look at Shane, who has spent a large part of his days and all of his nights with the Marine.

He shrugs. "She enlisted as soon as she graduated high school, so she hasn't lived in Georgia for close to a decade. I get the general impression she sees her current position as more of a field commander type thing, not a permanent leadership spot. So, Dale's right that Merle's a big factor. If you pay attention to how they interact in the camp itself, I'd say there's a small leadership group already. Hershel, Patricia, Tyreese, and Merle. That fit what you've seen, Carol?"

Carol nods. "Yeah. Hershel was the one in charge of all the planning notebooks, and he was taking input from the others if they offered, but those are the ones that were actively involved with talking everything over with Merle. Plus, it might depend on who is actually on the property when they get there."

"What about Daryl?" Jacqui asks. "He seem interested? He's been pretty quiet on the two runs I've been on."

"No more than the more vocal ones. He's as quiet over there as he was over here, really." It's not like she's going to share about his stepdaughter. No one seems to mention Abby, almost if talking about the girl will jinx that her other stepfather will get her safely to Georgia. The morning check-ins with the homestead haven't had any news on her yet.

Jacqui hums, looking thoughtful. "You know, I've got a sudden need for a shooting lesson." She pats Jim on the hand before popping up and striding over to join Merle and Sophia. The big man looks surprised, but nods when Jacqui makes her request. He says something to Sophia, and the girl grins before jogging off into the camp.

"Well, that's one way to suss Merle out," Rick says, laughing softly. "Anyone want to get to know the others a bit better besides Carol? Which reminds me." He turns to Amy. "You didn't go out with the foraging group this morning. Any reason why?"

Carol is a little surprised with Amy flushes dark red, obviously embarrassed.

It alarms Andrea, however. "Did something happen? Somebody do something?" she demands of her younger sister.

Amy squirms. "Not like you're thinking, Andrea, other than I feel like the world's worst pervert."

It dawns on Carol then. Amy called Jazz pretty the first time she'd seen him, and most of her interactions with the younger members of that camp were when Jazz was involved. She can't help the nervous laugh that accompanies her, "Uh oh." That draws puzzled looks.

"What's going on?" Andrea demands, still agitated.

Amy doesn't seem to want to confess, so Carol ventures a guess. "I am just guessing here, but I think she found out how old Jazz is."

Shane can't seem to help laughing either. "Oh god. Tell me you didn't make a pass at the kid," he says.

"No, thank God," Amy says, hiding her face in her hands. Her voice is muffled as she continues. "He just turned to me and said he knew it wasn't usually polite to ask a girl how old she was, but that I might need to know he is only fourteen. Very carefully worded like he's had to say it before, too."

Andrea looks torn between disbelief and amusement herself. "Seriously?"

"No way he's only fourteen," Lori interjects, looking mulish.

Shane exchanges a look with T-Dog. "How tall were you at fourteen, T-Dog?"

"Not as tall as the Dixon boy, but close enough to six foot."

The deputy nods. "Me too. Remember that crazy growth spurt I had the summer before tenth grade, Rick?"

"Yeah. Made me feel like a damned midget for the two years it took me to catch up."

"With all those Georgia Bulldog shirts he wears, I just assumed he was in college," Amy says, finally uncovering her face. "Christ, I'm ten years older than he is."

"Didn't Scout say her mother had been gone since Honey was a baby though?" Dale asks.

"She did," Shane answers. "I asked last night because I knew Jazz was younger already. She just replied that men can be stupid about their exes sometimes, so he's got the same mother, just a few years after they divorced. Dropped him off like a puppy at the pound when he was a couple days old and disappeared again."

"That poor boy," Dale says softly, his expression heartworn for the abandoned child.

"If it is any consolation, he seems very sweet and well-adjusted," Carol says. "Although Merle says he is usually standoffish around adult women who aren't his sisters."

"It's not surprising with a mother like that," Amy says, frowning. "Or with looking older than he is. I really did get the impression that telling me wasn't the first time he's had to get an admirer to back off."

"Poor boy," Carol says. "Although I was a little grateful when he told me how old he was this morning, because Sophia's crush is obvious enough to be seen from space."

T-Dog laughs. "You've noticed that too? Not sure if that's better or worse, though. Crush with a big age difference is a safe one. Similar ages, might get her a bit of a heartache."

"I can't predict the future," Carol ventures. "But I'm about ninety percent certain that it is a mutual crush, and so's Merle. He made a point of telling me it wasn't anything to worry over, because his boy had his boundaries firmly set, especially with three older sisters."

That makes T-Dog look mournful in a way Carol's never seen before. "Yeah, he probably does. My older sister would have had me neutered if I'd been less than gentlemanly to a girl I was interested in at that age."

Dale looks sorrowful as he reaches over to pat T-Dog on the arm. "Did you lose her in all this?"

"No, she died when I was in college. Lost control of her car in the rain going home from work after working the graveyard shift at the hospital. It was just me and her by then. She was eight years older, so she made sure I finished out high school after our dad died."

"My wife passed away from cancer three years ago," Dale says softly. "We were never able to have children, so it's just me in my retirement."

"Until you adopted me and Andrea," Amy quips.

The older man gives her a kind, appreciative smile. "I am a poor replacement for your own parents."

"I don't know that we'll ever even know if they survived all this," Andrea says. "They wouldn't want me to risk Amy trying to get all the way to Miami to find out either."

"Probably not," Rick says. "Coming here from King County, it was pretty desolate. And you see how long it took their group to make it this far from north Florida. Even with going slower to help folks or hunt supplies, that's two months to make a trip that used to take five hours by car."

"To return to the subject of potentially joining the Dixons," Dale says, "we should also find out how quickly they plan to reach their property. I don't think my RV is up for any extended travel. Jim's tinkered with it, but he doesn't have all the parts he needs for a real overhaul. I would prefer, if possible, not to leave it behind though. Irma and I bought it intending to travel in our retirement. He'll still need to finish the safety modifications since we concentrated on the other vehicles first.

"We're actually set to hit up a couple of auto parts stores tomorrow," Shane says. "And they might have compatible parts already with the busses and RVs. They'd share those regardless of whether or not we join them, I think. Do you need us to go back to that Grainger we hit up yesterday, Jim? We didn't come close to clearing it out."

Jim thinks it over and then nods. "Worst case, if we can't use it all or transport it, we can leave it behind and tell the nursing home group it is here."

"I can ask Patricia about their parts stock," Carol offers. "She keeps all the inventories. And they'd probably loan Jim a helper if he wanted."

When Dale and Jim both agree, Carol leaves them to discuss things further without her input. She's biased, but she hopes they really do all come along, even if it does complicate things with abandoning Ed.


	12. A Sin to Rejoice

**July 25, 2010**

~*~SW~*~

Supper is a somber affair, knowing it is time to make a final decision since the Dixon camp is heading north in two days. Dale is on watch, having waved away the offer Rick made to take over what is his normal shift anyway after Rick returned from the supply run. Scout decided it was the last run, to take tomorrow to make sure everything is sorted and road ready.

Andrea takes a plate from T-Dog, who helped Jacqui with supper. The blonde looks thoughtful as she takes a seat beside her sister, who is already eating. "I had a talk with Scout on the way back to camp. She invited us to go with them tomorrow, and I've talked to Dale about how grateful we both are for what he's done for us, but we're going to accept. I can't argue after the last few days and today's supply run that a bigger, more experienced group wouldn't be safer."

"What about Merle?" Rick asks.

"I think that I'm going to have to trust that there are a half dozen people over there that knew Merle before and that they all say the drugs were after the dead were walking. He's certainly been completely different to Jacqui and T-Dog." She looks at Shane. "That the impression you've gotten? You do have a bit more of an inside track into the family than the rest of us."

He turns the plate in his hands, debating on whether or not the one thing he knew that they didn't was truly important to share. "That's how it is according to her and Daryl both, no drugs or alcohol either. He did spend most of a year in prison about fifteen years ago for felony assault. Took a plea deal after they decided he'd used excessive force in interfering with a man beating on his girlfriend in a bar parking lot."

"Considering what we know of his past, I don't find that surprising," T-Dog says. "Ain't like all of us haven't wanted to do that sort of beat down on an asshole before. Gotta look at how he is now. And it's not like he ever actually got violent with anyone until he and I were yelling on that roof. Even then, I hit him first, and he apologized. I don't want to leave y'all hanging, but my vote is for going north. We already know that Morales and his family are going."

"Us too," Jacqui says, nudging Jim with her shoulder. Shane doesn't figure that Jim much cares, but he'll go where Jacqui goes. "And I really think that Dale wants to, but he's not willing to leave a family with a child behind."

"Shane?"

Shane meets Rick's eyes, keeping his expression neutral. This is probably a bad idea, but he can't let Rick decide thinking everything is like it always was. "I think there's a discussion you and I need to have before we decide anything."

That gets him semi-alarmed looks from everyone but Jim, and Lori looks furious, but he still passes his barely touched plate to Jacqui and stands. Rick follows as Shane leads him to the quarry lake. It is protected enough to be distracted down there, with all the watch posts manned in camp. If he is going to get his ass kicked, he prefers no witnesses.

"You gotta know before you place faith in me. We thought you were dead. We really did. And nothing ever happened before we ended up here and nothing's happened since you got back. And brother, you gotta believe it was grief and fear and just needing to know there was something left in all the crazy."

He struggles for the words, unable to say it outright.

"I know." Rick's voice is hoarse.

Shane tugs at his own hair in frustration. "She tell you?"

"No. But I know my wife and she's never treated you as badly as she has the last week, and she's never been jealous of any woman you were ever with." He sighs. "And you've had this air of about-to-be-kicked dog whenever I'm around. There were other signs, but those were the big ones that confirmed it. When it first hit me, that first night in camp, I wanted to knock your teeth down your throat. But I didn't because I get it. And you've done everything short of relocating to the other damned camp to leave us to settle things between us."

"If you hadn't made it back, I'd have looked after her and Carl to my dying day."

"I know." Rick sits on one of the big rocks and stares out over the water. "I gotta ask. Are you in love with Lori?"

Shane groans. "I could've been. Or convinced myself I was. But no, man, I'm not sure what being in love feels like, but I know I don't feel it for Lori."

Rick thinks on that for a while, and Shane lets him have the peace to do it, dropping down to sit on the rocky shore.

"This thing with you and Scout. That something you're going to continue? I worry about your track record, but seems you finally met the female version of you when it comes to relationships."

"We're just taking it as it goes. If we join up with them and it ends, we'll still get along. And I don't see any Dixons getting ugly about it unless I did something really stupid. I've never crossed that kinda line, so we're good."

"Gotta admit I'm surprised and proud of you."

"How's that?"

"Granted, she's pretty. Exactly your type, really. But before all this, I don't think I'd ever believed you could look past the scarring."

Shane decides to be honest. "Surprised myself a little. I thought it'd be hard to deal with, but I dunno. It shows she's pretty badass, I guess."

"Might have been your problem before. Most of the girls you dated for very long were pretty but not much in the personality department. Seemed like you got bored really quick."

"I did. Damn, some of them were poster children for dumb blonde jokes."

"I always figured it was how you made sure you didn't get in too deep," Rick notes. Shane is just glad he seems to be focusing on Shane's current love life and not the ill-advised affair with Lori, for now, at least. "I was afraid for a while you'd accidentally get one of them pregnant and end up married and unhappy."

He doesn't add 'like me', but Shane can hear it anyway. "Wouldn't have married just for that. That's one lesson I took from my parents."

"You aren't your dad, Shane," Rick says softly. "I've seen you with Carl for years. You'd make a good father and a good husband, with the right woman."

"How the hell did this turn into reassuring me, brother? I brought you out here thinking you'd end up kicking my ass."

Rick takes a deep breath. He catches Shane's gaze and sighs. "We'll be okay eventually."

Shane has to ask. "Even with the way Lori's acting? You know I ain't encouraging that and I won't."

"Yeah. I'm not sure what is wrong with her. Things were really bad before I got shot. You heard me bitch about it enough. We hadn't had a real conversation in at least six months, and I never said, but I'd been sleeping in the guest room for about six weeks. Pretty sure she'd started talking to a lawyer, but neither of us was willing to have that conversation yet. I think the only way I was going to save it was to quit the sheriff's office. She loathed me being a cop." He reaches down and picks up a flat rock, spinning it out across the water. "I honestly don't know if thinking I was dead jumpstarted her back to me and she's having trouble shifting gears to seeing me alive, or if she's just terrified of being alone."

"You might be on to something there. I mean, she doesn't really have any friends in the camp. Jacqui and Andrea were professional career women, never married, so they don't have a lot in common as a whole. Amy's too young, and Carol and Miranda might've been housewives like Lori was, but she's been so bossy toward both of them that I'm pretty sure Miranda's been faking difficulties with English to avoid her." Shane stands back up and rubs his jaw thoughtfully. "Being afraid you'll call it quits might be why she's trying to keep my attention too. Backup plan in a world she has no idea how to deal with."

"Shit, Shane. It's not like I'd abandon her even if I didn't want to be her husband anymore. You'd think she'd know that."

"She should. But I won't ever claim to be an expert on how a woman thinks through things. More than one reason why I ended up single and in my thirties."

"You say that as if married men have any more of a clue than single ones."

Shane laughs, feeling the pressure in his chest ease that has been there since he realized Rick was alive and one day, he has to confess his sins. He doesn't like that probably part of Rick's ability to forgive has to do with the damage his marriage already endured before the dead rose up because that meant it is even more guaranteed to come to an ugly conclusion now. He isn't sure that Lori is capable of backpedaling enough - or changing enough - to fit with who Rick really is. They might not have a station to work at, but this world isn't one where a man - or woman - could turn away from being willing to fight for the betterment of the community, even more so than the civilized one before. He doesn't voice those thoughts, just moves forward and sighs with relief when he claps a hand on Rick's shoulder and squeezes, that his brother doesn't push him away.

"Shane?"

"Yeah?"

"You should take the chance." When Shane looks down at Rick, he sees nothing but sincerity in the other man's blue eyes as Rick continues. "With Scout. We'll go north with them. I think it's for the best for Carl, even if Lori will probably bitch all the way there and beyond. But I think maybe you should see things through with Scout. The kind of connection you two seem to have doesn't come along often."

"What do you mean?"

Rick's laugh is a little bitter and it puzzles Shane. "You've known the woman for what, five days? The vibe between you two is already strong enough that if I didn't know either of you, I'd peg you two as the married couple, not me and Lori. Hell, we've never had that kind of connection."

It makes Shane's heart hurt to hear Rick disparage his relationship, even as much as he knows Rick is being truthful about the state of it. Lori always wanted Rick to be different than he is, and Shane never quite understood why she dated his best friend in the first place. She came from an affluent enough family to have finished out college and been independent, but she latched onto Rick in high school through Rick's younger brother and never looked back. She even dropped out of college two years in to marry Rick after getting pregnant with Carl.

"It's too early to know," he says at last.

"Maybe. But tell me this. You've shared a tent for four nights. Is that really just about sex?"

Shane shifts his weight from one foot to another, looking away from Rick to the water. "We've only actually had sex twice," he admits at last. He isn't entirely sure why it seemed natural to just fall asleep together that second night without having sex, although Rick's barb about his dating history probably helped.

"Only twice?" Rick whistles softly. "Brother, I hate to tell you, if you're already that comfortable with each other, I don't think it's too early to know where it's going."

"It's too fast."

"We live in a world with dead walking around, Shane. I'm not saying you're madly in love already, but it sure sounds like the potential to fall in love is there, and I always wanted you to have that kind of happiness. We're staying with them, so you don't have to choose between us and her, you know."

"It may not be what she wants." Shane remembers that initial proposal, where she indicated part of his attraction was that he isn't someone she is responsible for. He explains as much to Rick.

His partner looks thoughtful for a few minutes. "The way she interacts with you isn't like you're an outsider. Maybe she started out wanting a bit of fun, but she treats you like an equal partner in the day-to-day stuff. Honestly, if I were a lesser man, I'd be jealous of the time she spends with you on that, from the prospective of a partner who is being replaced at least temporarily. She had me partnered with Daryl today, you know. I got nosy."

"Yeah?" Shane's not entirely sure he wants to know what Rick got nosy with Scout's uncle about.

"He said she's never focused on anyone the way she has you. He's worried about her if the groups split up, that she's too attached."

"She hasn't said anything like that. Dammit, Rick, it's only been five days." Four days where he's spent all his sleeping hours with her. Five days where he's spent at least six waking hours in her company, except for the third supply run they'd done, where she paired him with Daryl for the actual supply run part while she worked with Morales. She still singled him out to go scouting with her for the next day's locations, sending Morales back with Daryl. He chalked it up to a group leader passing on skills to another group leader or at least tried to. They certainly built up trust fast. He is as at ease with her at his back as he is with Rick, and he knew that sort of thing doesn't come easy.

"According to Daryl, the only five days part has her a bit spooked too."

"Fuck." Shane paces along the water's edge, shooting Rick looks. The other man sits patiently, used to Shane's need to move when he is emotional. "You're really choosing to join up with them because it's best for Carl? Not because of me, right?"

Rick sighs. "Shane, while Carl and Lori's safety is my first priority in the decision, I won't lie to you that you being happy isn't the second. I had my doubts, and part of me still worries that it's not going to be as easy as it seems. And before you worry yourself around to it, I'm not pushing this because of Lori either. Part of why I was so angry when I first realized you'd slept with her was that you two are worse in compatibility than she and I are. I know you said you'd have protected her to your dying day if I hadn't reappeared, but she'd have driven you crazy in the end."

That brings Shane's pacing to a halt, and he stares at Rick, stunned.

The blue-eyed man just meets his gaze calmly. "Lori is a good woman under that blanket of unhappiness she's been wearing for the last couple of years. You remember how she used to be. But what she needs to be happy isn't me, and as much as I know you would have tried, it isn't you either. But you and Scout... that I can see. Something in her settles that coiled tension you've carried around in you since we were kids. And you don't see it, but I think you do the same for her. Maybe it's a talk you should have with her, or you can wait and give it more time since you'll have that now."

"And what are you going to do about Lori?" He can't shake the feeling that he helped put the nails in their marriage's coffin.

"I'm going to keep my mouth shut until we're somewhere safe. And then once we are settled, I'll let her know it's the end of things for us as a couple. I'll still look after her as Carl's mother, but she and I both deserve to be happier than we've been. The irony is that this world will probably make it easier, splitting up and sharing Carl."

Shane nods, figuring he might be right on that. "Suppose we should get back before they start worrying we're killing each other down here."

Rick actually smiles at that, standing from his seat on the rock. He surprises Shane by reaching out to pull him into a tight hug. "We're still brothers, Shane," he says quietly. And if Shane blinks away tears, Rick isn't going to call him on it.

~*~SW~*~

Shane doesn't even get turned around from zipping the tent behind him before Scout's arms are around him, her hands tugging his shirt from his waistband. He stills as she slides her hands under the cloth and up his chest, pressing herself to his back. When she hooks her hands on his shoulders instead of continuing to caress his chest and presses her face to the back of his neck, he realizes the embrace is more of a hug than a seduction. He reaches a hand up and cups the back of her neck, squeezing gently.

She nuzzles at his skin for a moment, lips soft against him, before slowly sliding her arms from his shirt and letting him turn around to face her. Her eyes are intent as she undoes his belt and slides his gun holster and knife off to set them neatly next to where her own are already on the overturned box that serves as a nightstand of sorts next to the air mattress. He smiles as she steps back to him, enjoying that their nearly equal height makes it easy to lean in to kiss the scarring on her neck above the neckline of her T-shirt. Scout shivers, and as he raises his head to smile at her, her pupils are blown wide, only a thin rim of blue remaining as she pulls him in for a kiss that is an invitation all by itself.

It isn't until later, after they're cleaned up and back in clothing to sleep, that he wonders if they should talk. All they agreed from the beginning was a short fling. Her coming to his tent again, knowing both groups are going to stay together, emphasizes Rick's interpretation that she's interested in long-term. It's a conversation he's never really had, so he has no clue how to start it. She's spooned behind him, a habit he actually finds he likes and suspects she does because it makes her feel easier to have her previously injured side protected by his bulk.

"Scout?" he manages at last. She hums against his shoulder, but raises to one elbow to peer down at him when he doesn't continue right away. She only loosely rebraided her dark hair, so wisps of it frame her face as she waits for him to continue. He likes this unguarded look of hers that few others get to see. "Are we going to stick with this - with us?" His voice is huskier than he likes, a need for the answer to be yes, even when he isn't articulating it properly.

She blinks, looking uncertain for a moment, and he feels a flicker of worry that she's trying to figure out how to turn him down gently. But then her fingers slide to the pulse point in the crook of his elbow, a habit he's noticed she does when she wants reassurance. There's a story there, one he suspects may trace back to Will Dixon's attack on his family, but he won't ask just yet. "Is that what you want?" she asks.

It's not an answer, yet it is, but he presses for more. "Do you want me?"

Her fingers stroke along the skin of his pulse point and he has a brief moment where it hurts to breathe when she doesn't answer right away. But she drops her head to nuzzle at the base of his jaw. "Yeah," she murmurs against his skin. "Getting close to always."

He tries to imagine an always, like he did through his whole watch shift and realizes that he can. Even better, he wants to. "Me too."

Scout moves away from him enough to push at his shoulder, rolling him to his back. Her expression isn't as joyful as he expects, though. She rises to her knees and tugs his hand up to run his fingers over the vertical scar that starts below her navel. The raised tissue is left exposed since she sleeps in just the compression vest and pants. He never questioned her about the scar, assuming it part of the extensive recovery she experienced last year.

"Do you know what this is?" she asks. She keeps her hand over his against her scarred stomach. He can feel the rigid twist of one of the shrapnel wounds near it.

He shakes his head.

"A hysterectomy scar."

Oh. He supposes he always saw children in his future, eventually, if he ever met a woman he wanted for more than a week or two. Perhaps it is karma that he finally is starting to imagine that sort of commitment in a healthy way - not like with Lori - and it's the one thing they can't have. Scout's expression is solemn, too controlled for real emotion, and he realizes she's afraid of his response. "Then I guess we'll just get to spoil other people's children and send them back home," he says.

Her smile is blinding as she drops her weight across his body to give him a kiss that makes him forget his exhaustion and their earlier activities both.

~*~SW~*~

It's still dark when they're woken by the sound of a man cursing furiously, followed by the vicious snarl of at least one of the dogs. They're both at full alertness, shoving on boots and grabbing weapons so quickly that Shane doesn't think more than a minute has passed. But the source of the noise is Ed Peletier, flat on his back, pinned by the massive bulk of Augustus. The catahoula has his teeth on the man's throat, and Ed's made a wise decision for probably the first time in his life by going absolutely still. An arrow sticks out of his shoulder.

Shane shoves his gun in his waistband as he surveys the scene. T-Dog is tense from his spot atop the RV, and others have spilled out of their tents in both camps. Lights are on in the Dixon RVs, but no one's emerged. He figures the adults are assessing from inside, keeping watch over the children. Sasha, the firefighter from Florida, is looking both furious and proud of herself. He's guessing she's the one responsible for the arrow in the asshole.

"Sorry, Scout. I shot too soon," she calls out.

"I see that. Jackass is still breathing," Scout replies. "Should let Auggie finish the job, maybe."

Apparently, Ed takes the suggestion seriously, because the fabric of his pants blooms wetly from where he lies unmoving under the dog.

"We don't want to poison the poor dog," Shane drawls.

"He slipped out of his tent," T-Dog calls down. "I told him to get back inside, but he told me to fuck off and kept heading toward their camp. So, Sasha shot him and Maggie sent the dog after." A glance towards the other watch stander shows the farmer's daughter looks mighty satisfied with sending the eighty-pound dog onto the wounded man.

Shane steps close, confident that Augustus won't hurt him. He's worked with the dog enough on supply runs to trust his training. Nearby is a handgun that Ed obviously dropped, either when he was shot or when he was knocked down by the dog. He picks it up, clearing the chamber and releasing the magazine out of long habit, but confirming it is loaded tells Ed's intentions toward his ex-wife and child or at least their protectors. If he were a stranger invading their camp, Shane would shoot him with his own gun. He's still tempted, but he walks the gun back over to Scout and Rick.

"Guess he figured it was his last chance to force them back," he says. They still haven't fully determined what to do about Ed when they leave. No one is fully on board with killing the man, but now is probably a different story.

Scout's expression has taken on that remote, emotionless mask that he remembers from when she told them about the rapists near the Greene farm. He isn't sure anyone can stop the decision she's reached, not that he wants to. She studies the gun for a moment. "Get him loaded up in the Jeep," she states, before bending down to finish tying up her boots.

Shane shoves the loose bullet back in the magazine and hands everything off to Rick. Lori is standing behind him, deliberately blocking their tent exit from Carl's view. He doesn't blame her a bit for that. He goes back to Ed, giving the command to Augustus to release the man. The dog obeys willingly, although he doesn't back off far, his hackles still raised. Ed lays as if paralyzed for a moment, not immediately fighting as Shane binds his wrists together using the zip ties he was given the night Carol decided on a better life for herself and Sophia. The shock of the wound and the dog's attack wears off as Ed's shoulder is jostled and he tries to struggle, but it only makes the bleeding around the arrow worse. Shane isn't gentle as he drags him to his feet, shoving him toward the Jeep.

"What are you doing?" Ed finally demands.

"Removing you from camp," Shane replies. He can tell the man suspects what that might mean, so he's ready when Ed tries to run and snatches on the arm with the wounded shoulder. The man goes to his knees, in too much pain to even scream. Danny reaches them, assisting Shane in dragging Ed back to his feet. Between the two of them, they get him rolled into the back of Shane's Jeep, the one they decided to leave behind at the camp. With the back seat still removed for using as a laundry and water transport vehicle, the asshole just barely fits. Shane zip ties his bound hands to one of the roll bars, just in case he gets any more ideas about running.

Even though they aren't likely to be going far, not in the dark, he takes the time to tie up his boot laces just as Scout reaches him. She's carrying the BDU shirts pre-loaded with gear that they use for runs, along with his belt, knife, and holster he'd left behind in the tent. As they're settling equipment into place, Shane sees Dale approaching. The old man's expression is set in what Shane's come to think of as his "I'm the moral elder" face.

"You can't just abandon him out there, wounded, with no supplies," Dale says.

Scout doesn't answer immediately, taking a look around the camp at those who have emerged from their tents. From what Shane can see, Dale is the only objector to Ed being removed.

"You're welcome to take responsibility and go with him," she says at last. "But he was headed over there with the intent to harm or kill people I'm responsible for. He doesn't stay, and I'm not wasting supplies on him."

"It's not right," Dale protests. "You're sending to his death."

Shane realizes that Dale's too naive, too innocent in spite of his age, to realize that Scout has no intention of Ed having a lingering death. She isn't going to leave someone like Ed loose in the world any more than Shane is, knowing what he likely intended tonight. Waiting until the end of a watch shift and picking the time when none of the cops or Marines were on duty had to have been planned. Unfortunately for him, where he was right that T-Dog would hesitate to shoot him, the young woman Scout trained didn't.

"There are no jails to hold him," Scout says plainly. "Can you honestly say you want him around the women and children here? What if it had been Andrea or Amy he'd been going after tonight with that gun?"

That makes Dale flinch. He looks over his shoulder where the blonde sisters are outside the RV, Amy held close to Andrea's chest. He hesitates in replying.

Something dark twists in Scout's expression, worrying Shane a little. "Or is that how it is? It's fine if a man like Ed beats on someone you don't care about? It's not your problem if it isn't your loved ones?" There's venom in her voice and Dale shrinks away as she steps closer to him. Shane can't see her face, but Dale looks almost afraid of what he's seeing. He suspects it's similar to the fury she turned on him and Daryl for not stepping in on Ed sooner. "You're just a self-centered coward, aren't you?"

This time Dale reacts as if she'd slapped him. He stumbles backwards several steps, still not speaking.

Shane steps up and slides a hand onto her shoulder, squeezing lightly. She relaxes into the touch.

"Anyone else object to Ed leaving?" he asks.

Dale looks around, obviously seeking any others who share his objections, but he gets nothing but silence and a few shaken heads. Carol comes forward slowly, causing Dale to begin to look hopeful, but she steps past him to stare at where Ed lies trussed to the Jeep. Shane expects Ed to curse at his ex-wife, but he lays there, managing an almost hopeful expression that the woman who he has spent years terrorizing is going to save him.

It's a vain hope.

"I hope you burn in hell," she says to the bleeding man. "I'm glad that every last minute of your time on Earth will be spent in pain and suffering."

And she walks away, head held high.

~*~CP~*~

Carol lies in her tent, curled around Sophia, who clings to her tightly, with Honey curled up to bracket the girl on the other side. She hears the Jeep pull away, and the darkest part of her thrills at the fact that Ed is gone. She's not stupid. She doesn't believe for a minute that Shane and Scout are going to set Ed free at some distance from the camp and hope for the best. He crossed the line tonight, bringing a gun like a coward in the dark. Her ex-husband's time left is numbered in mere hours now.

It's a sin to rejoice in a man's death, but she can't bring herself to repent.


	13. Triage

A/N: To my guest reviewer, some readers are hesitant to take on WIPs when the main characters aren't their favorites or the pairings aren't the norm for canon or fanon. I'm glad you're enjoying it!

**July 26, 2010**

~*~CP~*~

"Pissy does not even begin to describe her mood," Jacqui bites out, shooting an annoyed glare toward Lori Grimes as she brings Carol another box of canned goods. Henry and Ben finished installing the shelving units to modify the church bus brought into camp yesterday just an hour ago, so Carol and Jacqui had volunteered to move the supplies set aside for the original quarry group to the larger vehicle. All of the box trucks won't be going north, and the bus will make things easier to find as needed. The shelving units are still a wonder to Carol, little cages meant for secure storage from the restaurant supply warehouse. Although the wheels are locked in place now, she knows each shelf can be literally rolled down a ramp from the back door of the bus when they reach a safe haven.

"Is she still sitting there watching everyone else work?" Carol asks. Everyone else was up by seven and part of what T-Dog quipped was "Drill Sergeant" Patricia's chore roster. The older woman sorted everyone into tasks with an efficiency that is intimidating. Even Carl is working - and quite happy about it - alongside his father in packing emergency supply bags for each vehicle. The Dixon camp won't have to do a lot to be road ready by morning, but the quarry folk are playing catchup. Lori spent the first two hours sulking in her tent, while Carol and Jacqui sorted the unloaded food with an eye for loading the bus instead of helping them as assigned. When no sympathy came her way, the thin woman moved to a camp chair so everyone got to experience her disapproving expression.

"She was." Jacqui watches as Carol slides the cans onto the shelves and marks the new inventory tally carefully. "Rick was just stupid enough to try to intervene when Maggie just came over and told her that if she didn't put in some work hours on getting ready to leave, she was going to tie her to the bumper and make her walk."

"So, what's she doing now?"

"Laundry. Maggie decided her time is more useful elsewhere and at this point, I don't think anyone trusts Lori with anything more complicated. So, Maggie is helping me shift things out of the U-Haul trucks." Jacqui collapses the box as soon as Carol removes the last can, shoving the cardboard into an overhead net for reuse later if needed.

"Poor Tyreese." The big man didn't seem to mind being asked to head up laundry duty to get plenty of clothing clean before they were on the road, but that was when Maggie was his assigned partner along with Isabelle, Lizzie, and Billy.

They both take a minute to peek out the windows near the front that aren't darkened. Either because Maggie made a scene or she's decided her protest methods aren't effective, Lori is surprisingly working. Every line of her body radiates how angry she is as she pins clothing up on the lines while Billy works on another line. Tyreese and the girls are tumbling the three little washers, and the little tabletop clothes drier is humming along thanks to an extension cord run to one of the Dixon RVs. Carol is still sort of glad her duty is keeping her in the bus, even if it is hotter here than outside.

Maggie appears in the opening with a box, which she passes to Jacqui with a grin. The farm girl's enthusiasm is contagious, and both older women smile. "She's a bit of an idiot. I'd much rather be hauling and sorting food than hanging laundry, but it's her loss. I'll keep bringing boxes to the bus steps and let you pass things on to Carol."

"Sounds good. Are they done with the route planning yet?" Jacqui asks.

"Yeah, Scout and Merle rolled up the maps and said they'd go over those later. Merle took over welding on the med unit from Honey, so Honey is shadowing Jim as an extra set of hands on the final mechanical checks. Scout snagged her brother and they're loading up to refill the laundry water jugs so they don't keep emptying the water we're going to transport. She said she is going to send out two scout groups out to check out different route to 285 to see what the best route will be. I think they're looking at swinging out west of Marietta, maybe as far out as Powder Springs, before we go north."

"Guess that means they expect everything here to be done on time," Carol says.

"We're on track for it, yeah." Maggie disappears to fetch more boxes and ends up with a helper in the form of Jimmy on the way back. The boy looks really grateful to be toting boxes, so Carol assumes he's just glad to be out of Patricia's sight. She tends to oversee Jimmy more than any of the other youngsters, probably since she's known him half his life and feels responsible for him. He doesn't seem used to the mothering.

Having a human conveyor system of boxes makes the bus loading go faster than she expected after their sluggish start due to Lori not helping, and she's sweaty when she finally looks around at all the food. It looks like a paradise, compared to how they scrambled in the quarry camp on mostly what Glenn could carry in his regular trips to the city. While it seems like a lot, she knows that logically, with over fifty people, it's probably no more than a couple of months. She's glad that they have this surplus though. It seems a bit odd to modify a bus this close to the final destination, but she reminds herself that it isn't completely guaranteed the Dixon property is safe, or how long it may take to get there. Better to have three vehicles of well-organized, easily accessible food than having to dig through boxes in U-Hauls, plus she figures the buses can be converted to living quarters eventually, like that documentary she saw once.

"Here." Carol startles when Maggie passes her a water bottle and a scrap of cloth. The young woman smiles sheepishly. "You might want to cool off a little, plus rehydrate."

Since she did get dusty and sticky, she complies, using the dampened cloth to clean her face and hands at least. She's wearing clothing better suited for the work now, courtesy of half the female population on the Dixon camp side, who contributed various articles of clothing. It makes her feel a bit like a peacock, with her drab pastels replaced with the vivid or dark colors of the gifted clothing. But the sweet compliment Sophia gave her the first day she wore the red V-neck T-shirt and cargo pants chased away most of her lingering embarrassment. And she has to admit that the hiking boots Patricia found for her feel a hundred times better on her feet than the canvas shoes she wore before.

"Looks like lunch is corned beef hash," Maggie comments. "Donna snagged those giant cans from the restaurant supply warehouse we got yesterday plus some of carrots and potatoes to bulk it out. She said she figured everyone would be hungry after working all morning and not want to wait on food. It'll be the last hot lunch for a bit though. On the road, we usually stick to meal bars for lunch and breakfast. Patricia will have each vehicle stocked with a few days' worth of meal bars and water bottles, plus dried fruit and snacks. Those are meant for daily eating and snacking, while the emergency packs that Rick's group are setting up are for if you have to abandon the vehicle for some reason and go on foot."

That did explain Patricia's army of small folk counting items off into drawstring backpacks that seemed a little out of place to Carol with the emergency bags also being prepared. "Y'all have everything down to an artform," she comments.

Maggie laughs. "I've heard some of the stories of them struggling a bit early on, although I suspect a lot of that was being in a low population area without a lot of large supply stocks. It's part of why they're paranoid now, I think.

"Can't say I blame them. And at least we aren't spending a week eating mostly beans and squirrel this way," Jacqui says with a grin.

"Yep! And when we get settled, we're going to use the same system, but to bring food and supplies back to base. Daddy says we gotta collect all that we can now, while we have access to gasoline and the supplies themselves. With no more factory and transport system, we need the surplus for safety while we figure out how to do it all ourselves."

"But won't the food expire?" Carol asks, looking at the canned goods worriedly.

"Ever noticed that most food says 'best used by'? It's not really an expiration date, but a guarantee of how the food will taste. Some foods are risky past a certain point, according to Daddy. But he remembers when they didn't bother and says there's tests been done where decades old canned goods were still safe, even if they probably taste like crap. The ones we use up first are the pop top type cans, because the seal isn't as secure, plus anything with meat, citrus, or dairy. Once we're settled, we'll do our own canning too."

"Eventually, won't we run out of that sort of supply? Unless people can learn glassmaking?" Carol asks. "Because jars break over time."

Maggie grins. "I forget that not everyone knows about the treasure trove stashed in the back seats of the pickups."

"Canning supplies?" Jacqui looks puzzled. The truck back seats aren't that big, to have a real treasure trove.

"Nope. Freeze dryers. Commercial grade even. They found them in a place down in South Georgia and Donna made them clear out the lot. The trailer behind the other pickup is nothing but supplies for the dryers. Says she looked into them once, because she thought it would be easier than canning, and found out they cost too much. So, we can make that long-term freeze-dried food as long as we can maintain electricity of some type."

"Okay, that is a treasure trove then," Carol acknowledges. "But I did see canning supplies in yesterday's run, right?"

Maggie and Jacqui both nod, and the younger woman points to where a trailer hitch is being attached to T-Dog's church van. "They're going to load those up in a trailer though, since we're starting to run shy on drivers for the bigger vehicles. Although at least now, driving a U-Haul, you don't have to worry about other drivers cutting you off, but I can see where one of those pulling a trailer is scary. And I know Scout is getting really anxious about just how large the group is. I think if she thought it was safe, she'd take us north in smaller groups."

"Is it that dangerous out there?"

"It could be, and she's always thinking on the worst case scenario. Most of these vehicles are big and slow. We've modified everything we can to make them quieter, but without all the human noise we used to have, they're still noticeable. We're reasonably safe from a herd as long as we're moving, but human predators? That's a different story." Something dark moves across her normally cheerful expression, and Carol remembers that it was one of Hershel's daughters cornered by the group Scout had put down as rapists. "That's why there's always two per vehicle and preferred at least one can shoot. On the road's the time you'll see people with actual firearms too. You've both had lessons from Merle, so don't be surprised if you get issued one tonight."

Carol shivers a bit, wondering if she's up to their standards. She exchanges a look with Jacqui, who shrugs. Neither of them was prepared for this kind of life, but ironically, they're the ones adapting the fastest of the quarry camp women. She finishes off her water and looks over to where the laundry is ongoing. "Think Patricia will care if I go join the laundry brigade and save some of Tyreese's sanity?" she asks.

Maggie just laughs and waves her on, taking Jacqui with her to whatever task she's headed to next.

~*~SW~*~

Supper is a group affair for the first time, partly because word went around that Scout was going to hand out road assignments. Shane already knew what they would be, because she pulled him into the planning group that had usually primarily been just her and Jamie. They might be liberally including Tyreese, Hershel, Merle, and Patricia on the end of the road planning, but the on the road was chiefly the two experienced Marines' domain. He doesn't figure there will be many objections, so he stays relaxed as Scout gets to her feet with a composition book in hand after dishes are collected.

"Alright. Most of y'all are familiar with how we travel on the road, but since we are adding a large number of newbies, there's going to need to be a shuffle in our routine. For the newbies, on the road, we try to keep the number of tents set up to a minimum, both for convenience and safety. All the tents we use are six-person tents, and from what inventory I got from the quarry camp, we've got enough for three more that size in addition to our four. But as any of us who have stuffed five adults into one of these tents can attest, six person is a stretch on description."

There's some grumbles and laughter, especially from the four teenage boys who have been sharing a tent with Henry while in camp.

"All the smaller kids currently sleeping in our RVs will stay put. This includes the Morales kids, since Mika and Andy are fine to keep sharing a bunk." Scout continues, not detailing what she told Shane, that the toddler's nightmares were soothed in staying cuddled to one of the girls at night. "But since none of us are going to ask Abuelita or Abad to sleep on a tent pad, I'm evicting three of you lazy folk from the RVs."

Lilly grins at Sam. "I'll be happy to keep your girlfriend cozy for a while." The young man only laughs, cuddling Ana close. He's actually the only adult shifting out of the RVs, the other two being Sophia and Beth.

Scout looks toward Dale. "Your RV sleeps four or five. Andrea and Amy are willing to share a tent with Jim and Jacqui, so I'd like to keep the Grimes as a group to sleep in your RV. It'll keep with the policy that only the older teenagers are out in tents. That good with you three?" She turns her attention to Rick on watch atop Dale's RV with only a passing glance at Lori.

"Works for me," Rick answers and Dale agrees. Lori doesn't answer, but Shane thinks she might actually look a little relieved.

Scout hands out the assignments with practiced ease, with no one objecting but a few concerned expressions turn towards Carol when her tent assignment with Sophia includes Merle and his two youngest children, but the older woman doesn't seem to care.

"Now for the part that will take up most of our waking hours. Driving and passenger assignments. Every vehicle is assigned at least two people capable of driving it. If you get the shit shift on watch while we're on the road, make sure your driving partner drives first and get some extra sleep during the morning if you can. There are a few spare drivers in a pinch, but they're mostly spare because they aren't really qualified for the buses and RVs, especially the ones towing trailers. Keep your spot in line memorized and stick with it. We probably won't stay on the road for twelve full hours a day, but we'll aim for driving as many of the daylight hours as possible. Every vehicle has a map with various alternate routes marked to reach the town nearest the property. If you do get separated by some freak chance, make your way there. The rest of us will find you, and whatever you do, don't lose the damned radios. As long as that repeater stays up on the loft building, you should be able to contact the group or the property, but stay off the air if at all possible. So far, we seem to be the only one's using the ham frequencies we do, but we don't know that for sure. And the handhelds aren't as good over distance as the dash mounts."

She rattles off the vehicle assignments. Except for the Grimes family in the Peletier's old Cherokee and the two U-Hauls, the rest of the quarry camp vehicles each have a Dixon as passenger or driver. Shane ended up with Daryl as his driving buddy, after Scout teasingly started to pair him with Merle in driving the converted church bus. He feels a pang of sympathy for Carl, as the only child or teenager not in a vehicle with someone at least near his own age. But the only boy his age is Jazz, and Shane isn't about to suggest that Jazz ride with Lori as long as her poor attitude persists. With any luck, Rick will have pity on his son and let him join Jazz and Julie in Dale's RV at least part of the time.

"How will watch work on the road?" Andrea asks.

"We're going to do our best to be off the road by seven each night. That'll give us an hour of fading sunlight to set up camp and get a hot supper in us. We'll use disposable dishes on the road as much as possible so we conserve water use. We'll pull out around sunrise each morning, with everyone eating breakfast and lunch from their goodie bags you all may have seen the kids packing earlier for each vehicle. We'll keep a three person watch with four-hour shifts, just like here. Luckily, we're moving into areas familiar to several of us, so that'll make finding safe and suitable camps a little easier. You up for watch roster?"

"Of course," Andrea replies. "How long do you think it'll take?"

"It used to be less than a two-hour drive from Atlanta to our place without any serious traffic. Based on what the two scout groups reported back, we're hopeful for less than a week, but we're skirting well around Marietta because rural is safer with a caravan our size and after some of the herds in Macon and Atlanta, we don't think Marietta will be any better. We'll make our way back to 575 to continue going north. Based on what we saw in South Georgia, going away from Atlanta should be reasonably clear, with the real jams being on the southbound lanes."

"And if we hit a big jam?" Dale asks, looking worried.

"We've got non-freeway routes marked, but they'll be slower, more likely to be in areas where the bigger vehicles can't maneuver as easily, and with less visual range. The freeway is risky, but it also provides a clear line of sight by its very nature when you're outside the bigger cities. Biggest city we plan on actually going through is Canton, though. Had about twenty thousand folks before. Right now, we aren't going to concentrate on gathering supplies so much as getting everyone to a safe, hopefully permanent location. Take note of anything you see as we travel and we'll send supply runners back at a later date."

Jamie speaks up to add to her instructions. "That said, if we are stuck at a jam that is easier to remove cars than go around, you'll see teams clear cars and siphon gas, as well as kill off any dead trapped in the vehicles. We try not to leave them behind in case we have to work past the jam again on a supply run. If you see living survivors while we're on the move, radio it in so we can assess if it is safe to stop and help or not. We'll also clear any houses or stores in the areas we camp each night. That's my area of command when we travel, so if you went on a supply run here and want to help out one of those teams, just let me know."

"Bathing will be baby wipe only and everyone should wear their outer clothing at least twice unless you absolutely have to change. If you don't have enough clean underclothing to last at least a week, see Patricia for some spares, especially socks. Change your socks every day. If something derails our plans and we're going to be on the road longer than planned, we'll find a safe campsite for a couple of days to rest and clean up. And never fear, while we won't stop for lunch, we do opt for regular breaks to allow for bathroom breaks and driver changes. One of the reasons we try to keep the children on the RVs is so they have easy bathroom access. Big group like this is vulnerable because we can't move fast, so our entire goal once we pull out is to get the kids and supplies safe as fast as possible, even if we all end up smelling like the Swamp Thing by the time we arrive."

Scout's comparison draws a lot of laughter. Shane hopes his people from the quarry can adapt to life on the road, but hopefully, with an end in sight, they'll be able to. At least it won't be for months, like the ones who started in Florida endured so far. He's tired from the lack of sleep last night due to Ed's idiocy. He's considering a nap when he sees Rick's signal, so instead, gets reluctantly to his feet to go climb the RV to join his partner.

"Do I have you to thank for my driving and sleeping assignments?" the other deputy jokes.

"Maybe. I figured Lori might make a fuss if she was separated from you or Carl, and she can't drive any of the bigger vehicles. But if Carl gets really antsy, you could pass him off to ride a bit with one of the others, or see if Carol will loan you Sophia for a bit. Kid's in a sucky age range for the group. Most of the boys are way older or younger."

"Well, thankfully he's got that box from the comic book store that Cricket gave him, so maybe that'll keep him occupied. Noticed that the Dixons are all spread out though."

"Yeah. Maps and radios are one thing, but if the group gets split up somehow, the odds are better if there's someone who actually lives in the area. Hopefully, it's a paranoid precaution we won't need. Scout and Jamie say finding the property without a guide is damn near impossible. Nearest town is Conns Creek**. Not too far north of Canton, just off the freeway enough you can't actually see the town til you're in it." As deputies, they probably knew their state's geography better than the average Georgian, but even so, towns as small as Conns Creek didn't always make the radar. "Merle says they had about 1,500 people last census."

"I'm still surprised they had a police department. Town that small, usually they just let the county oversee things."

"They sure did back home, but I guess they prided themselves on public safety. Had three officers, one for each shift, plus their chief."

"You said the other night they don't think any of them made it?"

"Only one unconfirmed as dead is the one guy who went to find his sister's family. Merle opened the property to all the local force. Apparently, his older kids went to school with the chief's youngest kids in the county school system."

"Smart move really. If everything's going to hell, having the local law survive and feel their family is safe increases everyone's chances."

"Would've been nice if King County had had some sort of backup plan. But all those drills we did were about terrorist attacks, not plagues, cannibals, and the damned government turning on us," Shane grumbles.

"Can't say I'm unhappy that you didn't stick around. Things were pretty desolate down there, and at least here you had backup and access to more supplies. Can't imagine it taking long to stockpile everything in King County."

"Yeah, and further to travel to get supplies elsewhere."

"With any luck, it won't take more than a week to get there. I'm hoping Lori's mood will improve by then. Right now, she seems insistent that we're taking her to some hillbilly compound and Carl's going to be raised into some wild outlaw. I don't think I ever really paid attention to the level of prejudice she can cook up for herself."

"Easy enough to hide when your life is the PTA where most of the others are from similar nice families that can afford to be on a single income," Shane says softly. The Grimes family didn't live as your average single income cop family did. Rick's father invested wisely, so when he'd died within a year of his wife losing her battle with cancer three years ago, Rick was able to purchase the nice house Lori always wanted. None of the other deputies lived anywhere nearly as nice. Even the sheriff's place was a ramshackle old farmhouse on a couple acres outside town. Scout wasn't the first person to apply the word 'uppity' to Lori. It was a favorite of Shane's Grandma Jean up until her death last year too. "I was a little surprised when she didn't make you relocate to a bigger town when your dad passed."

"She never even asked. I think she had her heart set on that neighborhood we bought the house in since her teens." Rick falls silent, looking morose.

"Maybe once we get there, she'll see it's better than sitting in a campground. We may not have all the modern conveniences when we get there, but running water sounds damned perfect."

"No kidding. I was never fond of camping. Shit. I still haven't been able contact my friend who helped me when I first woke up. He's got the other police radio; said he was going to come to Atlanta eventually."

"Well, we can ask to have King County put on a supply run once everyone's settled. Me, you, couple of the others. We can test out the hospital, see if there's goodies left behind. Medical supplies are gonna be worth their weight in gold, so I'll bet going to a known location, Scout'll be open to it. We even thought about it when we were worried about the diabetic girl, til we found that stash at Emory, since you said there was still some electric running."

"Still might be a good idea to clear it out, if we can. You really think she'd send a team that far?"

Shane laughed. "Brother, you haven't seen the plans they got laid out yet. I'm pretty sure they're intent on cleaning out every location in a hundred-mile radius if they can, including prisons."

"Even if they have inmates?"

"Way I figure it; inmates have either starved to death in their cells or got turned loose by guards if any of them had a problem with the starvation part. Lot of supplies in installations like that, and ones that the folks stalking the military depots won't really think about, least not right away. And if there are any survivors, guess we take that case by case."

"Yeah, not all of them are beyond redemption. Can't see Scout aiming on rescuing any murderers or rapists though. Was worried when she said she left the invitation open for the Vatos."

"I don't think any of the ones who are willing to stick around the city to help out a bunch of old people are the gangbangers we wouldn't want around. Think most of them are like Miguel. Didn't have much other choice about joining up."

"Wonder if there's a way we can really transport the other old people."

"Might be. Can put our heads together about it once we've got all the vulnerable ones we've already got safe. G and Felipe have enough supplies to hold out for at least a couple of months now, and they'll be drawing less attention by being out in the city too. And those two are good men. Coulda walked away at any time and they didn't and still won't. We left them with a good radio setup, and G seems to understand how it works, so they won't be as isolated as they could be either. Safer too, now, that they know you can turn without a bite."

"Can't say I'd want to imagine the fate of that place if just one person died in their sleep and they didn't know." Rick shudders.

"Be a damned nightmare for sure."

They both fall silent as Scout approaches. "Either or both of y'all want to go along to pick up the four Vatos we're taking along?" she asks as soon as she's in range. "Can send someone over to cover your watch if you want to go, Rick."

Shane watches his partner consider what can only be an olive branch. He knows the trip down to pick up Miguel, Robyn, and the two elderly is something Scout considers an easy run, but she's obviously being careful with vulnerable ones on the move. Rick nods, and Scout whistles, motioning toward her group. Henry heads their way at her signal, waiting patiently for the two former deputies to make it to the ground before taking Rick's place.

She's borrowing T-Dog's church van for this trip, since it's the only smaller vehicle with enough passenger room. He's surprised when Jazz, Jamie, and Hershel join them. He hasn't seen the vet go out on a single run since they've been there, but he's geared up and looks comfortable enough with an air rifle like Shane's. Everyone checks over their gear as if they intend to be out for hours instead of two or three. With a pause for Rick to give Carl permission to go hang out with the older boys despite Lori's angry glare, they load up and head out.

As he catches Rick's gaze in the rearview mirror, Shane smiles. It feels far more like it should now, having his partner along.

~*~SW~*~

Shane curses himself for getting too comfortable due to the easy runs they've had. He and Scout had visited the Vatos twice more to drop off supplies after that first day, so by this fourth visit, he's welcomed by many of the residents. Even the Vatos have stopped giving him wary looks, especially after he's spent time among the ladies flirting in Spanish. Jazz is sweetly welcomed, although he blushes his way through soft-spoken Spanish at the elderly women's brash flirting. It's also why they're nowhere near the others when the shooting starts.

He disregards his air rifle immediately, tapping Jazz's wrist. "Glock, not the rifle," he orders the boy. The corridors are too narrow for a long-range weapon to be safe. Wide-eyed, Jazz pushes his own air rifle to his back and unholsters a gun eerily similar to Shane's own. Shane's throat radio activates and he knows that Jazz hears the same order he does. Protect the elderly.

"Maria? Is there somewhere safe?" Shane asks.

The leader of the group nods, motioning toward a door at the back of the big room they're currently in. "Music room," she explains, hurrying those barely mobile toward it with all the skill of a bossy grandmother. Mr. Gilbert surprises Shane by managing to wobble along. Two of the more stable ladies push wheelchairs. Shane finds himself grateful Felipe has been returning some of the folks to individual rooms to rest.

Gunfire and screaming are ongoing down the corridor he knows leads out to the courtyard he and Scout exited through the one day they were on foot. Scout, Rick, Hershel, and Jamie were all in the garage, loading up personal belongings and the four refugees going with them. Shane and Jazz had lingered behind, entertaining the women.

The elderly are jammed into the music room now, but Shane is wary of lowering his gun to block the door, so he orders Jazz to drag one of the couches over. He considered making the boy join them, but he doesn't think he would leave Shane as sole guard. But he follows the order to crouch beyond the couch, half hidden. His hands are steady where he watches the corridor the noise is coming from.

"Where's my sister?" he says finally, the first words he's spoken.

"Securing the garage probably," Shane suggests. No one has come from that direction, and the radio's gone silent since that single three-word order. "Maybe outside, coming on whoever this is from behind."

"Yeah, she'd do that." The quiet confidence in Jazz' voice reminds him that the teenager has been on the road a long time at his sister's side.

Nothing more is said, because then there are strangers emerging from the corridor, white men as opposite from the Vatos as it's possible to be. Shane doesn't hesitate, but fires, taking out two before they even realize he and Jazz are there. He hears the report of Jazz's Glock as well as the boy covers him. One intruder screams, rolling back into the hallway and out of Shane's range of sight, but he doesn't break away from guarding the door. As long as he and Jazz are here, no one can easily access the other corridors, either to the garage or down into the nursing home residential area. He prays there was only one group and only at the courtyard.

More gunfire erupts outside, further away than the first round. The street maybe? He wonders how many intruders there are. He shot three, and he thinks Jazz got at least two. Without knowing how many Vatos were guarding the courtyard entrance, he wonders if he and Jazz are the only defenders left this side of the nursing home.

Felipe slips into view from the residential corridor. The big gun he holds confidently clashes with the pastel scrubs he's wearing. He meets Shane's eyes and fades back at his signal, edging behind a wall in case anyone does come from the direction of the garage.

Another rush of men into sight, three this time. Shane fires. He hears Jazz make a pained sound as the last one drops to the floor and looks over to see the boy looking pale, gun laid down on the couch arm and his free hand clasped around his bicep. Blood seeps around his fingers and Shane feels incandescent with rage that he's been wounded. Felipe notices and starts to venture out, but stops when Shane motions for him to cover them. He's closer to Jazz and already mostly exposed. Keeping an eye on the bodies near the corridor, he jerks open the red pouch on his vest one-handed and gropes for the pressure bandage he knows is behind the hard case of the small kit inside.

He has to holster his gun in order to cut away the torn sleeve to slide the bandage in place. It's in this moment that one of the men on the floor rolls and aims. He doesn't even realize Jazz has his gun again until the Glock fires at the same time Felipe also shoots. The bearded behemoth of a man on the floor doesn't move again.

There's movement in the corridor again, the sound of someone being punched or kicked, but then the throat radio activates.

"Just cleared our way back up from the courtyard. You got the rec room, Shane?" Scout asks.

It takes him a second try to find his voice. "Yeah. Me, Felipe, Jazz." Fuck what he has to say next. "Jazz' got a graze to the bicep."

She doesn't step into view yet and he has to wonder where she finds the strength for that type of professionalism, but remembers shooting the man who shot Rick before he ever dropped to try to stop the bleeding. "Hershel, garage still secure?"

"No intruders at all here," the veterinarian reports back.

"I'm sending Jamie and Rick back to you, Hershel. They'll guard that entrance. Bring the Vatos this way. Some of their guys are wounded. Gonna need you and Felipe both on that."

He can see her now as she's slipping into the rec room. Rick is between her and Jamie, carrying G with an arm slung over one shoulder. The man's other arm dangles useless, blood running from a shoulder wound. A wounded Vato Shane hasn't met brings up the rear. From the limp and blood on his thigh, he's been shot as well. They deposit G on one of the vacant couches, leaving him to Felipe's care. The nurse curses as he accepts the emergency kit off Scout's vest.

Jamie hasn't quite left the room when Scout calls out to him. "Call the camp. Tell them to load up for pull out and take full precautions for human intruders. We don't know how these assholes found the Vatos. They may know where we are too. Shoot any strangers approaching on sight, especially if they look like Hell's Angels wannabes."

The other Marine nods, following Rick out of the room at a jog. Scout reaches them, fingers reaching out to grip Jazz's unwounded arm and one of Shane's. She gives them both a squeeze. "You good for a few, little brother?" she asks softly.

He can tell Jazz is in pain, probably starting to tip into shock, but the teenager nods and allows himself to be gently directed toward the couch they are using to guard the music room. Shane calls out to the elderly inside. "Is everyone okay?"

"We are fine," a woman's voice calls back. "Mr. Gilbert needed his inhaler, but we got it to work."

"I need a bigger kit," Felipe calls out. Scout finally lets go of his arm after another squeeze, although Hershel's reached the room with his EMS kit now. He takes over G's treatment, pushing Felipe toward the half-conscious Vato slumped in a folding chair.

Scout makes sure her brother has his gun and turns to Shane. "Two more wounded Vatos back in the room by the courtyard. We'll need to cover those boys while they fetch them."

He nods as she directs the gang members who arrived with Hershel to follow. They accept her direction better than he would have expected, but then again, even those who live outside the law understand there are times where military training should lead.

The room off the courtyard is a mess of blood and gore. The Vatos who were on duty down here didn't go down easily. Shane counts at least four bodies inside the room that aren't Vatos. As the four young Hispanics lift their still moving compatriots and head back toward the rec room, Scout draws her knife out of her vest. He covers her with his Glock as she makes absolutely sure none of the invaders will rise to come at their back. The old, law-abiding part of him wonders if he should be disturbed she didn't check for life signs on any of them, but when he remembers Jazz's pale face and the blood on the boy's arm, he can't bring himself to care. The two Vatos down, she does check, and she's much gentler with ensuring they don't rise either.

Shane double checks that the door is bolted shut. "All this noise is going to draw walkers," he says, unnecessarily, perhaps, but she nods. "We gonna take them all with us?"

"I don't see that we have any choice," she replies, looking to him for backup of the decision.

He nods, reaching out to draw her to him for a brief press of bodies. "We'll figure it out. Better to maybe lose one or more to harder life on the road than to leave them here waiting to see if these guys have any friends."

As they head back down the hall, she repeats the process with the knife on the men that he and Jazz shot, until she reaches one that lets out pained "please!" before she thrusts the knife in place. He's surprised when she stops the movement, until she fumbles for a pocket on her pants and drags out zip ties like the ones he used on Ed. She restrains the guy at wrists and ankles.

"Drag him into the rec room, will you?" she asks.

The guy actually looks hopeful until Shane reaches down with a vicious grin and grabs his restrained wrists to drag him. He gives out a pained scream as his arms rotate and drag against the wound in his belly. He leaves the asshole bleeding far enough from any of the others that he shouldn't be any trouble and takes up guarding the corridor, just in case.

Hershel has the bleeding stopped on G, and Shane's amazed that the man is still conscious. But he's aware enough to see the man on the floor and realize the intent. The man smiles as viciously as Shane did.

Felipe's finished with one patient and moved on to another. Scout is with Jazz, speaking softly as she checks Shane's hurried bandaging. She kisses the boy on the forehead before going to help Felipe and Hershel. Shane feels a little helpless, just standing guard, until he meets Jazz' eyes from where the boy sits, Glock still in hand. He smiles reassuringly at the boy, who smiles back with more spirit than he'd expect through the ordeal. They'll stand guard while the others triage.


	14. North Bound

**July 26-27, 2010**

~*~CP~*~

Carol takes a deep breath from where she's curled against the window in the driver's seat of Daryl's old Ford. Her daughter is sleeping soundly, curled between her and Honey and using the older girl as a pillow. She thinks Honey might be asleep, although she wouldn't swear to it. She should sleep herself. Merle passed the orders to everyone to get rest except for the ones he assigned watch. Every other vehicle has someone atop it, gun at hand regardless of the noise level. Hidden behind the middle school off the highway they were planning to use to leave Atlanta in the morning, they're not in the circled-up mode to protect from walkers.

Everyone's on high alert for human predators now.

It's funny how when the radio came to life, the ugly news breaking of the attack on the Vatos' compound, that they realized it happened on the one time both of the older Marines were out of camp, along with both former deputies. But no one argued when Merle took charge, smoothly ordering the evacuation of the quarry camp as if he always led their groups. Surprising Carol, no one questioned him taking leadership, not even Lori. The normally argumentative woman allowed herself and Carl to be bundled into Ed's old Cherokee with Glenn reassigned as her co-driver.

They've been here for three hours now, waiting on their wayward souls to return. Merle's walked the line of vehicles, passing news, everyone on radio silence but the Subaru, 'just in case'. She suspects it's as much in case to keep any bad news from alarming civilians as to keep quiet on the airways.

She startles a little when he taps her window gently. He gives her a bland smile as she rolls it down. "They're on their way. Don't normally drive at night, but Scout wants distance between us and Atlanta in case those assholes' group comes looking for them. But we may need you and the girls to help when they get here. They're bringing the old folks along."

"I thought it wasn't safe for them to travel," she replies, but already knowing she'll go play nurse's assistant if that's where she's needed.

"It's not, but we can't leave them sitting there as easy prey. They got a Greyhound bus from that depot. Loaded up everything they could and are destroying the compound behind them. When they pull in, they'll bring the bus right up beside you, because it's going to drop into the middle of the caravan. You and the girls shift onto the Greyhound and I want you to hang on to the walkie." He passes her one of the small portable units, which she wasn't issued when they left because Daryl's truck is fitted with a dash-mount radio. "I'll drive the truck for now, gonna drop back and help keep an eye on the rear."

Carol nods. It sounds straight forward. Switch vehicles and help. She's a little glad that she isn't going to be driving in the dark, because getting this far with the order to use only the unfamiliar blackout lights was nerve-wracking.

"They're about twenty minutes out, so go ahead and wake the girls. You got your gun?"

His eyes scan to the shoulder holster Honey all but buckled on her forcefully. She nods again, afraid she's not good enough with just a few lessons with an air pistol, but she'll figure it out. Unlike walkers, people feel pain, so as long as she at least hits her target, it'll have an effect. He starts to walk away to the next vehicle in line and turns back to her. "Be safe, Mouse." And then he's gone.

The nickname bothers her. If it were anyone else, she'd know for sure if they're teasing. She thinks it might even be affectionate, but getting a true read on Merle isn't like keeping a wary eye on Ed. She's just getting to know the man without the influence of drugs on his personality and he's not as easy to read as his brother.

Mouse implies she needs protection.

She doesn't want to be a mouse anymore.

~*~SW~*~

He's a little more than a mile away, driving the bus full of nursing home residents and wounded Vatos, when the _WHUMP_ of the explosion Scout and Jamie stayed behind to create shakes the bus. He grips the wheel, keeping the big vehicle on track, following the delivery truck Rick is driving. They'd concentrated on the medical supplies mostly, but the rest of the truck is full of the other supplies. A pair of Vatos is driving another box truck loaded with supplies, and Robyn is driving the church van stuffed to the gills with one of the elderly men riding shotgun - literally. He'd firmly stated that being minus two legs from the knee down didn't mean his arms and eyes wouldn't work. They'd still not managed everything that was collected for the nursing home, even stuffing all the overheads on the bus. No one had wanted to go find another vehicle, and not all of the Vatos had come with them, including one of the wounded, who'd shook his head and left with the others who feel like the elderly are safe without them now.

Jazz wobbles a bit as he comes and sits on the bus steps. His arm is bandaged, stitched back together by Hershel's steady hand. Rick had offered for the boy to ride with him, but Jazz refused, so Miguel did instead. Shane's confident that either boy makes a good enough guard for a driver, sad as the idea of fourteen-year-old boys being enlisted in the duty is. They both watch the walkie at Shane's waist, waiting for official word that the two Marines got free and clear of the building they destroyed to hide the trail of the vulnerable residents.

Hershel and Felipe are on alert too, dividing their attention between the residents on the bus and the road behind them.

The walkie crackles at last, and Jazz makes a strange, almost hiccupping sound as he reaches for it as they hear Scout read out, "All clear. Meet the others and pull out."

"Want me to answer?" Jazz asks. He nods. Rick may be in the lead vehicle, but Shane's primary for this part of the caravan. Scout and Jamie aren't going to hurry to catch up, but linger a little, to check they aren't followed. But they're in one of the Vatos' muscle cars, so it'll be easy enough for them to catch up at the meeting point. No way a caravan as large as theirs can move as fast as the car, and it's built like a tank without any extra modifications.

"See you at dawn," the boy replies. He looks to Shane, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, so Shane reaches down to squeeze his shoulder.

"We'll see her, Jazz. Be lucky if she and Jamie don't beat us there somehow."

He takes the reassurance in the faith only kids can muster so easily, but shifts his position to lean against Shane's seat and wraps his arms around his bent legs, staring out the bus doors into the night.

~*~CP~*~

Carol and the girls exit the truck as soon as the squeal of the brakes engaging sounds. Two vehicles had pulled in ahead of the bus, and Rick bails out of a delivery truck to switch seats with Glenn. She gets a glimpse of an unknown woman behind the wheel of the church van, but ignores the prickle of curiosity in favor of making sure the girls load up quickly. Merle's standing guard over the switch as those on guard drop back into vehicles to start moving out.

Shane's in the driver seat and shuts the doors as soon as she's clear of them. Jazz sits on the floor next to him, long legs moved just far enough out of the way to let the girls and Carol by. She sees the bandaging on his arm and feels a flash of anger that halts her progress to following the girls to sit while Shane takes back off, falling smoothly in line of the caravan as if they'd always planned on this big bus coming along.

"What happened, Jazz?" she asks, kneeling next to the boy. He shrugs, looking pale despite his darker complexion, so she looks up at Shane.

The deputy's concentrating, but he answers her. "Assholes came to take the old folks' supplies. Thought they'd be easy pickings. He got grazed. Hershel put in about eight stitches, gave him antibiotics, but he won't take the painkillers."

"You'd be more comfortable in a seat?" She glances back. The girls are sitting separately, each taking an empty aisle seat next to a nursing home resident. There are plenty of places open.

"No." There's something in Jazz's voice that alarms Carol. Shane responds too, one hand leaving the gear shift to brush across the boy's hair for a moment before returning to the task of driving. The adults' eyes meet over Jazz's head and Shane gives a discrete shake of the head. Whatever this is, the boy seems to need contact with Shane for now.

"Do you need anything?" she asks Shane.

He declines, then reconsiders. "Bottle of juice. There's supplies in the overhead bins. Need the sugar. He probably could too."

She gets to her feet and one of the older ladies points toward the bin above her seat. She smiles at Carol as she opens the bin, tugging free a bottle of grape and a bottle of orange juice, unsure what flavor Jazz might like and fairly sure that Shane will drink whatever she hands him. Her guide grabs her wrist before she can go back to the front. "You the chiquito's mama?"

Carol shakes her head. The old woman sighs. "He kept us safe, with the officer. But he had to shoot too."

Dear God in Heaven, it sounds like Jazz had to kill someone. No wonder the boy's sticking close to Shane. She thanks the woman, who smiles and says to call her Abuelita, before returning to the driver's area. Jazz takes the grape juice, fumbling with it for a minute before managing to take a drink, while Carol cracks the seal on the orange and takes off the lid before handing it to Shane.

He thanks her in a softer voice than she's really ever heard out of the deputy and she goes to find Hershel to find out more of what happened on what was supposed to be an easy visit.

~*~MD~*~

It's half an hour after sunrise before they reach the meeting place Merle directed Cricket to drive to the high school in Powder Springs. The highway was clear to 285, but they left it at Mableton, using the smaller roads to weave their way here. The few jams they came across, they cleared just enough to get the caravan through. Then Merle, Tyreese, and Tara blocked the road again. He wanted to leave as little evidence they came this way as possible. There are no signs of any pursuit, so far, but instincts honed from his time in the military remind Merle it is possible they could miss something.

Without regular headlights, they have to go slow. At least now everyone from the quarry understands the blackout lights they thought were overkill on the vehicles Scout brought to camp. He is just damned glad that they'd gotten the new vehicles modified and the three drivers behind the each of the unmodified vehicles are attentive. Although he doesn't figure even in the moonlight someone in caravan formation could miss the big ass Greyhound bus.

But now, everyone's exhausted, and the drivers all continued without relief, keeping their backup driver (if they have one) on reserve. Merle knows he is being a paranoid bastard, but Scout didn't come up with these procedures for shits and giggles, so he follows them. He lifts the handset on his radio after surveying the vehicles parked in a horseshoe formation in the empty track complex parking lot. He is actually a little surprised that there is no sign of gatherings, evacuation, or even military here. Perhaps they used one of the other school campuses.

Everyone's waiting on his assessment of their location, so he keys the mike. "We layover for four hours. Everything seems clear so far. Scout and Jamie will be here in about half an hour. Hit the head if you need to, get some grub, and drivers get some sleep. Jimmy, Andrea, and Ana on watch, pick an RV."

He swings out of the driver's seat and circles the loop of cars, taking note of his brother crossing to check on Cricket. That reasonably covered, he makes his way to the Greyhound to check on the younger kids.

Shane has the doors open by the time he gets there. The deputy looks as exhausted as he feels. He shakes Jazz awake where the boy's asleep leaning against his seat.

"C'mon, Jasper. Need to let Shane up and stretch his legs." Merle reaches out to brace Jazz as he tries to rise but gets caught up in stiff muscles from his uncomfortable sleeping position. He takes his son's weight and gets him down the bus steps, hearing Shane follow with a groan.

The deputy doesn't go far, just goes through a series of stretches as he takes in their surroundings with the ease of long experience. Rick approaches, a half empty water bottle in one hand and a cereal bar in the other. His stride shows the long hours in the car too.

"I'd say good morning, brother, but think we need to sleep first," Rick quips.

Shane laughs, tilting his head to where Jazz is pretty much asleep standing up against Merle. "Ain't that young anymore, right?"

"He sleep much at all on the bus?" Merle asks. Jazz being asleep when he got there didn't mean much, and as much as he'd desperately wanted to check on his boy back at that middle school, he wasn't risking extra time stopped when Jazz was in good hands between Shane, Carol, and Hershel.

"Not really. Not til the last hour or so. Honey said he was the same way after the attack where they lost the other Marine. Couldn't sleep and hyperaware."

"I'd see if he'd ride in one of the RVs and bunk down, but I don't think it'll help." Merle takes the bottle of water from Carol as she exits the bus. "How're the girls?"

"Honey's sleeping, has been for the last couple of hours. She said she was going to do a driving shift when we leave, let one of the night drivers get some extra sleep. Sophia's helping Hershel with meds. Everyone is holding up better than expected, but Felipe wanted me to check in on Robyn and Mr. Diaz."

Merle nods. "Tell them to both come back to the bus to sleep. Be more comfortable than that church van. We'll shift drivers around anyway."

She agrees before heading off with other water bottles in the crook of her arm.

"Little jarring to see Carol with a gun," Rick mutters.

"I'm just glad your missus listened when we loaded up. Thought she was gonna deny she had a piece, but told her she wasn't riding with just Glenn if she couldn't help protect them."

"How'd you know she knew how to use a gun, much less had one?"

"I've yet to meet a cop's wife that didn't at least know the basics. If she'd been the first, I'd have stuffed her and your boy in Dale's RV and damn the consequences of her temper."

It surprises him when Rick laughs. "Can't take any of the credit there. Her uncle was a cop too. Used to take her to the range as a teenager. Was kinda glad to see she grabbed more than photo albums when I climbed in the Cherokee last night and saw her holster."

"Thought Carl was gonna pass out when she cracked open that case." Merle thinks the woman would have shocked the kid less if she streaked through camp.

Shane just laughs, the sound hoarse. "Let me grab Jazz and see if he'll let me put him in one of the empty rows if I stick with him."

Merle considers the offer a moment before nodding and shaking Jazz back awake enough to switch props. He watches them disappear back onto the bus before turning back to Rick. "You need something?"

"Just worried about Jazz. Not sure I understand how you can let him out of your sight."

"Ever shoot a man in the line of duty?"

"Yeah, twice before the shootout that put me in the hospital and that attack on the nursing home."

"They live?"

"Yeah."

"What about your partner?"

"Once. His didn't make it. Plus the shootout. Never did ask him how that ended."

"Something tells me a man who put a bullet in his partner didn't leave the scene in anything other than a body bag. Before, though, I'm betting that reconciling what happened worked a helluva lot better talking to the partner who was there than anybody else, right?"

"Yeah, it did." Realization hits the deputy. "You think when the shock wears off, he's going to need to talk to Shane."

"Exactly. Even someone who's taken a life before doesn't understand the same way as the man in the fight beside you. Why it was necessary right then and there. And it won't hurt getting to be riding along with the visual evidence of the innocents he helped save, either."

"Makes sense."

"Might want to see if you can get some sleep. Figure your wife can drive to the next camp, but I doubt you'll want to sleep then instead of riding shotgun."

"A'right."

The younger man makes his way back to Dale's RV, where his family was taking time for breakfast and a bathroom break. Most everyone is outside now, even the kids for what he thinks is a run around inside the protected shelter of the vehicles. He huffs, remembering the "Drill Sergeant" moniker that Patricia bore with pride. He's got no idea what that woman did before the end of the world, but if it didn't involve a lot of bossing folks around, she sure bloomed into it now.

Feeling the need for sleep himself, he heads for Cricket and the med unit. Bunking on the floor there means he can at least stretch out. He'll trust that Scout and Jamie can get themselves safely here.

~*~SW~*~

Shane could really use about twelve hours more sleep, but despite the lack of evidence of pursuit, he understands Scout's insistence that they at least get in the day's drive. His busload of nursing home residents can't spend long on the road, so they're going to push a lot harder than planned.

At least Jazz is actually in a seat for the moment, although that's more because he hasn't woken up yet than an active choice.

He leans on the bus' exterior, finished eating the pair of protein bars Patricia passed him when she came to check that they would be able to feed the elderly while underway. He straightens just in time to accept an embrace from Scout. She still smells like gunpowder and, more faintly, of the chemicals the Marines used to blow up the nursing home.

He can feel her breath against his neck as she speaks. "You good?"

"Yeah. Got new appreciation for bus drivers," he says to try to lighten her mood.

"I'd figure you'd be used to sitting til your butt goes numb, deputy." He can feel the grin against his skin.

"Well, yeah," he drawls, "but the lack of doughnuts is just miserable."

She draws back and kisses him, something they really haven't done in front of an audience yet. He enjoys the moment before they part.

"Got all the drivers shuffled? Gonna be interesting with Beth and Honey hauling trailers."

"King County's rural enough you've probably seen more than a few farm kids at the wheel like that."

"Not much. Mostly because the insurance would probably have a stroke about a kid that age driving something with a load behind it. What about the boys? Thought you were worried about the teens and the trailers."

"Jimmy's gonna drive Daryl's bus since it doesn't have a trailer, but the others are all city kids and none drive stick."

"More lessons for later."

"List just keeps growing. Got through to Glynnis. She's gonna keep everyone on alert. With luck, we'll make it to Kennesaw by tonight and past Canton by tomorrow."

"Good plan." He claims another kiss before reluctantly parting.

~*~CP~*~

"Mama?"

Carol glances away from the road to where Sophia is sitting on top of one of the truck cabs, making notes in her composition notebook. She took the suggestion to keep track of potential supplies seriously. Her expression is serious as she compiles a record of everything in sight.

They are clearing the vehicles faster than she expected, everyone too aware of the ticking time on the nursing home residents needing off the bus. The military checkpoint is too valuable to route around or leave unpilfered. She suspects they're about to be short another spare driver or two since Jim and Merle have the big transport vehicle hooked up to what Carol thinks is a trailer-based generator. Several of the original Dixon camp are hauling various gear out of the other vehicles and stacking it by the rear of the big truck for Tyreese to load up. Jim's been going under the hood of each vehicle and dragging away batteries or other parts, but she's not sure if he's actively salvaging or just disabling the military vehicles.

"Do you think people would have been safer if they didn't try to evacuate?"

Carol flinches, remembering navigating around a scene of absolute carnage at the first location on campus they tried. They hoped to use one of the athletic parking lots for a camp for the evening and get off the road two hours early to recover from the night on the road. But the first one was an overrun evacuation point, where based on the grim expression of the team that did investigate, the military turned on the populace the same way Shane reported.

"I don't know, sweetie. It does seem like large groups as a whole suffered more than small ones. But most people wouldn't have had enough food or water to last very long."

"Like after hurricanes? Our social studies teacher told us last year that grocery stores only have a couple days of food if you compare it to the population around."

"Like that, yeah. So maybe it would be safer from the dead or even other people, but in the end, people would have to come outside where it was dangerous."

"Would you be angry if I said I want to learn to do supply runs?"

Carol looks away from where she is keeping watch, but sees only curiosity on her daughter's expression. "I would hope that you would wait another year, but if Scout is willing to train you, it's okay."

"Are you gonna?"

"Yeah, I think I am. That okay with you?"

"Bad things can happen just sitting at home. I'd rather we do stuff rather than wait for stuff to happen."

"You aren't afraid, after what happened to Jazz?"

"No." The girl huffs a sigh. "I mean, I am, but I would rather be like Jazz than the people he was protecting. They were in a safe place and bad people still came."

Sadly, it is the truth of their world now. She doesn't want to see Sophia looking like Jazz did last night, knowing the boy killed at least one person. But she won't ever condemn Sophia back to hiding in a closet, hoping violence will sweep past her again.

"Mama? Jazz is going to be okay, right?"

"Yes, baby. What happened is hard to work through even for adults, and you know he'll have people who know how it feels."

"That's why he's riding with Shane on the bus, right? Because Shane was there?" Sophia didn't want to leave Jazz behind on the bus when they left Powder Springs, but the logic that putting another fully qualified nurse on the bus was better made sense, so Carol switched back to driving Daryl's truck. Julie joined them, and the teenager was nice enough, but Carol could tell Sophia far preferred either Honey or Jazz along.

"And because Shane was a deputy. They get training for dealing with things like that."

"Good." Sophia reaches for the set of binoculars that the younger Marine brought by shortly after they stopped and he noticed Sophia's task. "Got a walker coming, Mama. From the east."

Carol signals Daryl, who's closest of the trained archers. He looks in the direction she points and nods when she just shows one finger. After a word to Jamie, he slips beyond the protective line of vehicles and trots out carefully into range. A single shot takes down the wobbly walker, but he stands alert for a few minutes before going out to retrieve his bolt. When he returns, he comes by the truck and reaches up to high five Sophia.

"Little Eagle Eyes up there," he says with a grin before returning to his place in the loading.

Honestly, Carol thinks if they could harness Sophia's current grin for electricity, they'd have power til the next century.

~*~SW~*~

Shane's honestly surprised that it takes until nightfall for Jazz to finally crash back out of the numb state he's been in all day. The teenager shadowed him everywhere, and the few times someone less experienced sought to interact with him, they were smoothly intercepted by another of the Dixons or one of the non-Dixons Shane noted for being more aware of the true state of their world now. He was getting pretty tired of Dale's 'concerned looks' by the time Jazz abruptly stood from the circle where they were eating a dinner heated over propane. Shane passes his bowl off to Scout, grabs his water bottle, and follows as Jazz steps just outside the protective ring and out of sight from the others behind one of the buses. The big female hound trots after him on near-silent feet.

Shane catches up just as the boy vomits everything he'd eaten, sobbing quietly. He drops his palm against Jazz's back and rubs gently between his shoulder blades. When Jazz straightens, Shane passes him the water bottle so he can rinse his mouth.

"I feel kinda stupid, being this upset. He was going to shoot you in the back," Jazz says. Liberty winds around his feet, comforting him even as she keeps watch on their surroundings.

It doesn't surprise him that Jazz likely wounded or killed more than that last man, but in the heat of the fight, it probably didn't register the way firing that last shot did. "I'd be more worried if you weren't upset. It's the first thing out of the shrink's mouth after an officer involved shooting, and I guess after a while, they know how the mind processes it. Grief, fear, anger... S'all normal to feel, sometimes all at the same damn time. Might not be the only time you lose a meal over it. Might have some nightmares. But you got all of us to rely on."

Jazz leans into him a bit, processing what he said. It's an odd feeling, because the teenager is a few inches taller and probably weighs as much or more than Shane himself, and he's no lightweight. But despite all his maturity - both natural and forced by the disaster of a world around him - he's a boy at heart. Shane's not really, truly used to being the one trusted for reassurance and comfort for a child. Time with Carl was almost always as the fun uncle, up until Rick got shot. Then again, this really isn't that much different from Carl's grief months ago.

So, he does what he did then, and wraps an arm around Jazz, knowing it'll probably trigger the same response. Words aren't what Jazz really needs right now, just an outlet for emotions.

When he looks back toward the opening, he sees Merle leaned against the nose of the bus, turned slightly away. He's keeping watch, but trusting Shane is capable of soothing his son. It's a heady feeling.

A/N: Guest reviewer: I'm glad you're enjoying it! Merle and Shane will remain two of the primary POVs, although once they reach "home", you'll start seeing Lori and Daryl regularly, and the Daryl here is skewed differently on the show. On Ao3, the story is up to 42 chapters published and another will go out today, so they'll be coming a while. :)


	15. Arriving Home

**July 28, 2010**

~*~MD~"~

They were so close to home now that Merle couldn't quite dismiss the anxiety of stopping here for the night on the northern outskirts of Canton. But he knew everyone was exhausted from the level of alertness needed to navigate, especially the slow and careful crawl through Canton. Routing around would have taken just as long, and with this being the nearest decent sized town, it needed to be assessed.

It wasn't a pretty picture. The evidence seen elsewhere that at some point the military had given up on defending the public is here too, although one of the two military camps appeared overrun instead of turning on the populace. It was probably why the second had as many uninfected bodies as infected.

So, they stop for the evening about five, in the industrial park near the electrical supply distributor he used for his company. After the college campus at Kennesaw, no one wants to know just yet if school campuses here were hit similarly. The industrial complex was isolated and didn't have any businesses that would attract looters.

It didn't mean they aren't clearing the buildings next to the electrical warehouse. Merle is only half-surprised when Glenn is assigned to his team to clear the little church in one end of the strip of warehouses. The young man forgave him his stupidity under the influence, probably too easily, but he isn't arguing. He suspects the pretty farm girl is part of Glenn's enthusiasm for Merle's team. Karen making up the fourth works for him, because he's learned to sense potential for ruthlessness, and the former school teacher has it in spades.

The alert nature Glenn developed on solo runs into Atlanta serves them well. "There's someone here," he whispers, backing up from where he took point on the hallway of offices while Merle eyes the classroom hallway opposite.

"Someone?" Maggie asks. "Not a walker?"

"Well, it's possible a geek managed to bump into a door and shut it, but I'm about ninety percent sure I saw the knob turning to try to keep it from clicking shut. Haven't seen a geek turn door knobs yet, thank God."

"Which of you two ladies is the best shot?" Merle asks.

"Maggie is."

"Alright. Maggie, you slip just inside that open office door and cover me. Glenn, you and Karen stay just out here in the sanctuary and be ready to go for help. Radio it in quietly," he orders, knowing the throat radio range probably won't reach the camp.

He eases his bulk down the hall, old military and hunter habits serving him well. Glancing back, he sees Maggie's calm stance and takes a spot near the door that would keep him more on the other office side than the one he's approaching.

"We aren't here to hurt anyone, just clearing out the dead if there are any," he calls out. "We can help, if you need it." After a moment, he repeats it in Spanish. Area had its share of Hispanic agricultural laborers before.

"Man I saw was wearing military fatigues," the voice is female, young, and terrified. It makes Merle's heart ache, and Maggie looks similar.

"I don't like that you're afraid of the military, but our group's mostly civilian. We've just found that the uniform material is harder for bites and scratches to get through.". There's no reply, so Merle figures what the hell. Girl in this area is likely a local, and he's put four kids through the school system. "My name's Merle Dixon. We're just passing through on our way home. My kids went to school down here."

Just when the continued silence begins to worry him, he hears a muffled sob. "What're your kids' names? The two who play the same sport. The senior and freshman."

Dammit, she is young. "Honey and Jazz. They both play lacrosse in the spring."

The door opens so quickly that Merle barely identifies the teenager before she's clinging to him, sobbing in earnest now. He hugs her tightly, scanning the room behind her and seeing nothing but a mostly empty food pantry with the girl's rucksack and a makeshift weapon on the floor.

The others approach as he tries to sooth the girl. "This is Jenny. She's one of Honey's lacrosse teammates."

The reminder that Merle isn't alone makes Jenny quieten down, although she doesn't let him go. He smooths her hair with one hand, noticing it shows a decided lack of regular care and is inexpertly cut short from the long tresses he remembers.

"Are you all alone?" he asks at last, not sure he wants the answer.

"It's just me and Mom. We tried to go to Atlanta, like we were supposed to. But we got stuck in traffic and Tyler got worried and turned back. He got bit about a month ago."

"How about we get you back to our group and we can go find your mama?" he suggests.

"You'll take us with you?" The wavering uncertainty in her voice makes him wince.

"Of course we will. There's plenty of room at our place."

She nods against his chest before moving away to retrieve the rucksack. "Churches have food banks. Safer and easier for me than everywhere else," she explains, looking haunted. She grabs a metal wrapped bat too, but follows Merle easily as they exit the building. He doesn't comment when he feels her fingers tangle into his belt.

Their incoming return is noticed by the watch. He didn't radio it in, not once he identified the girl. Another team can finish clearing the church, which is likely free of walkers if the girl regularly ventured inside.

Jenny is gripping his belt hard enough to twist it as they enter the circle of vehicles. He can damn near smell the anxiety wafting off the girl.

"Carol!"

His call alerts the grey-haired woman, who looks up from where she's repacking the food bags for the vehicles with Sophia's help. She spots the girl and trots over.

He keeps his touch gentle as he untangles Jenny's fingers. "This is Carol. She's family, and you're gonna stay with her while I take some people to get your mama. She's at your house, right?"

"Yeah. Tyler got it all blocked off real well before..." Her voice wavers and Carol is quick to reach out. Just as she did with Merle, Jenny responds to the care of an adult with a hug. He eases the rucksack off her and passes it to Sophia, along with the bat.

"Ladies, this is Jenny. She went to school with Jazz and Honey. I'm going to take my team out to her house in the Subaru."

"Wait! Are Honey and Jazz okay?" Jenny calls out as he starts toward Patricia, who is running general comms for the group today.

"Yeah. They're just both out on a clearing team. Should be back before I am."

She gives him a watery smile and lets Carol lead her away.

Glenn is patient enough to wait until they're in the Subaru, headed away from camp. "Why would she be out alone?" he asks.

Merle sighs, wondering if this is another thing that might have gone better if he'd stayed in his right mind. "Amanda's in a wheelchair. Got hit by a drunk driver three years ago. Her ole man bailed right after, so it was just her and the two kids. She's got a modified van, but she couldn't always get to away games. The other girls' parents all took turns giving Jenny rides til she got her license last spring since her brother was at college."

"How far away?" Karen asks. She's intent on the clear road around them. Any bad events in Canton at least didn't happen around here.

"Subdivision the other side of the freeway. About three miles."

"Tyler the brother?"

"Yeah. Think he was twenty. Fell in the gap between two of the girls enough I don't know much about him. Jenny's enough younger that she wasn't part of Honey's little gaggle of athletes."

"I'm just glad she was out for supplies today. We'd have missed her otherwise." Glenn shudders and Merle doesn't blame him. They've got plans to clear Canton of supplies, but not on the door-to-door level.

Maybe guardian angels still existed.

~*~CP~*~

All the teams were back in camp, reporting no dead in any of the buildings. With the exception of maybe the church, Carol supposes none of them really had a reason for employees to be there when things started shutting down, and according to what she's been able to get out of their little refugee, the church has always been empty.

She got the girl showered in one of the RVs, figuring they're close enough to their destination to spare water for a kid who hasn't seen reliable running water in months and didn't have a lake nearby either. Now Jenny's tucked in a protective nest of teenagers and children, too alert for sleep until her mother is confirmed rescued. Patricia passed word that all is well on that front, so she wanders out and climbs up on the RV where Jacqui's taken over watch on the RV with the radio from Patricia.

"No sign of them yet?" she asks, sitting cross-legged next to Jacqui's chair with a glance to the radio setup on the other side.

"Nah. But I figure we've got five or ten, based on what time it took between here and there the first time. Supposed to have a maroon modified Chevy mini-van coming."

"That kid's been through hell and back. I can't even imagine being where I had to send Sophia out on her own."

"No kidding. How's she doing?"

"In a bit of shock, I think. Feeling better after getting cleaned up and Lori trimming up her hair. I don't think she thought anyone was left alive. She says her brother tried to get the last of the military to evacuate them when they finally abandoned Canton, but they weren't willing to take on a girl and a disabled woman."

"I can't imagine. Can you picture if our Marines got ahold of those men?"

"Wouldn't be pretty. But maybe it's easier, since they have a goal in mind."

Jacqui huffs and shifts in her seat. "From what I heard from Tyreese, they've had about six end goals in mind."

"Yeah, I've seen some of the notebooks here and there, before we left the quarry."

Movement on the road to the east catches their eye. Jacqui checks with the binoculars, and then signals down into the camp that all's clear. Carol watches the vehicles approach before telling Jacqui goodbye to go see if any help is needed.

The Subaru backs into the usual spot near the caravan while the Chevy mini-van pulls alongside the opening. Carol's a little surprised that Merle's in the passenger seat and the unknown woman driving, but she waits since Merle's hopping out and opening the sliding door. She watches as Merle enters the van to lift the driver into his arms, leaving the wheelchair behind the steering wheel. It occurs to her then that the wheelchair battery is probably dead, but they had to load it to easily drive the van. She doesn't envy Merle and Glenn loading it up.

The woman loops her arms around Merle's neck as he turns to face Carol. "My daughter?" she asks.

Carol can't blame her for that being her first concern. She points toward the huddled group of kids, who are moving aside to free Jenny up. The girl meets them before Merle's more than a few feet away from the van. They hug as best they can, before the woman shoos the girl away gently back to the other kids. "This feels more like a dream than reality," she says, looking around.

"It'll get even better. How would you like a shower?" Carol asks.

"I'd say you're crazy, except I just smelled soap and shampoo on Jenny instead of baby wipes."

Laughing, Carol motions Merle toward the RV where she and Lilly already set up one of the shower chairs Felipe remembered to stuff in the Vatos supply truck. Merle deposits her gently on the tiny RV toilet, backing off to leave Carol to assist her.

"I don't want to be rude, but how much help do you need or want?" she asks softly. "Oh, and I'm Carol."

"Amanda." She looks at the shower stall with undisguised envy. "Honestly, tiny as this bathroom is, I could probably manage it all myself, but I don't want to tempt fate or that stool tipping." She motions to herself. "It's an incomplete lower thoracic injury. I can use braces or a walker for short distances, but it takes a lot out of me and I've got the balance of a toddler."

Carol ends up letting Amanda guide her through what she needs for the bath, which mainly seems to be the shift from the toilet seat to the stool, where she strips off her clothing fairly easily. Carol wishes she had Amanda's confidence in being nude in front of someone else, but she supposes a paraplegic doesn't have a lot of choice in that matter. There's a knock on the door to the RV.

"That'll be my medical supplies," Amanda says. "The girl, Maggie, I think it was, said she'd bring over everything that was in the bathroom."

It's not actually Maggie at the door, but Lilly, which relieves Carol a little to have the nurse on hand. She introduces the women as Lilly sits the box down on the little toilet. "I'll let you get your shower, then help you with the rest of things. You've got a MACE and a Mitrofanoff?"

Amanda takes the bottle of body wash and cloth before pulling the curtain, answering as she gets the shower turned on. "Both, yeah. Once we realized we weren't going to get anywhere, and no one was going to arrest my son for looting, he cleared out all the medical supply places he could get to. Got enough catheters to last me three lifetimes. Merle said he'd take a group back later to get the surplus."

At Carol's puzzled look, Lilly explains. "Spinal cord injuries usually mean difficulties with voluntary bowel and bladder control. Amanda's had two procedures done so that she can take care of both herself via stomas on the abdomen."

"One of the best things about living so close to Atlanta. Lots of great resources for paraplegics," Amanda adds. "And that my asshole ex-husband was willing to shell out alimony to be allowed to run far away. Geez, you ladies, this is damn near heaven. We weren't exactly lacking for water at the house, but we didn't want to rely on it to actually shower or full on bathe. No telling when the water tower was gonna run out with no electricity for the pumps to refill it."

Carol giggles a little. "Part of the group was staying at a quarry, so I got used to bathing outdoors the past few months. With so many people, we'll probably still be limited at first at the Dixon property though."

"How many people are we talking? I saw a lot of vehicles, but I honestly was so damned relieved to see Merle's scruffy face at my door that I didn't ask a lot of questions." The water cuts off, and Amanda pulls the curtain back to reach for the towel that Carol hands her. She begins to vigorously dry her short, dark hair.

"About eighty, plus close to twenty already there."

"Holy crap, seriously?"

"Yeah. We helped evacuate a nursing home that got abandoned by everyone except for two staff and a few relatives."

"I guess two more and one of us gimped up won't be as much of a burden as I worried about then. I mean, I've known Merle for two years now, since Jenny started high school, but this is small community level stuff."

Carol wants to ask more, to get information from a non-family member's point of view, but it seems a little overbearing to interrogate a woman sitting naked on a shower stool. Amanda's passing the towel back, and Carol steps forward to offer herself as a brace for the move to the toilet.

"I'll take care of the rest, although I'd appreciate it if one of you ladies would stay nearby to fetch me a strapping fellow once I've finished up and gotten dressed."

Lilly offers to stay, so Carol heads back outside. Merle's waiting and leaning against the RV, although he's got a manual wheelchair by the door now. "Didn't figure she'd want to hole up on the bus with the elderly just yet, and we won't be able to charge her better chair til we get to my place. She said her son got this one when he raided the medical warehouse."

"Were you able to get enough of her supplies for now?"

"Should be about a month's worth, and we'll need plenty for our mini nursing home eventually anyway. Patricia's already reorganizing a couple of her supply requests."

"She's very pretty," Carol observes. "And more confident than I'd be, in her place."

"Nah, don't sell yourself short, Mouse. She's had years to come to terms with how her life is now. I'm fairly sure you'd be the same way, with your little gal to look after."

Maybe. Carol likes to think she could be that strong, and it's likely Ed would have fled just as Amanda's ex-husband did. But there's that nickname again.

"Merle?"

"Yeah?" He turns and looks at her, gaze going serious as he realizes she's upset. "What's wrong?"

"Why do you call me Mouse? It's not very flattering."

He's quiet for a minute, and she thinks maybe he's offended, until he sighs. "Daryl could probably tell you some pretty story, one of those Native legends he likes so much. But I'm more practical. Mice are survivors, Carol. They hide and gather and raise up little mice. You gotta work for one to trust you. It's not meant to be an insult, but I can stop if it bothers you."

She thinks about what he said, the positive spin on the nickname and slowly shakes her head. "It's okay. I just don't want to be fearful and meek anymore."

"S'alright. That life's all gone for you. Maybe the world's gone batshit, but as long as we're around, you and Miss Phia are safe. That's a promise."

Carol's pretty certain that's the first promise from a man she can rely on in a very long time.

~*~SW~*~

"All good on the home front?" Shane asks as Scout edges into what is becoming her usual spot leaning against his legs.

"All quiet. Lenore took a group down to the RV place today and brought four more back. We're still brainstorming about a permanent solution for the nursing home residents. Right now, the best space is off property in the nursing home in town, but the fence there was only designed to keep residents from wandering off, not walkers coming in. They've checked and everyone was evacuated, but it's a small facility, only about twenty beds and none private."

"It's a good short-term solution though. How long would it take to get a building up on the property?" Dale asks. The groups have merged now, although smaller groups splintered off after supper to enjoy a little down time before sleeping.

"Need three days at least for a foundation to cure enough to start putting framing up. Had a contract to put up a steel building when it got delayed for everyone getting sick. Building's big enough we could modify it for residential and house everyone in singles for safety's sake." Merle rubs at his chin, frowning as he thinks it through. "Could get the building up in five days with my old crew. Seven to ten with training new help. Interior won't be as complicated as true residential before... another week at least though."

"Faster if we make off with the portable classrooms from the elementary school," Honey suggests. "And isn't the daycare in town a portable? We could go with a cinder block foundation that way, and you already leveled out that space by Glynnis' cottage to build for Cricket."

"Portables would have plumbing already, but let's go find Henry and see what he thinks." The two wander off as if they weren't part of a larger conversation, leaving behind incredulous looks and a few grins from those more familiar with them.

"They get like that when there's a project to plan," Scout explains. "He spent years trying to convince her to go to college for engineering or architecture, but she's stuck to her guns on the construction management."

"Not enough involvement in the actual building process in those fields," Shane suggests. Scout nods.

"Do you think they'd welcome input from an architectural student? I just finished my first post-grad year." Amy looks pretty hopeful for someone who used to avoid Merle.

"I think you'd be more than welcome," Scout replies, but she stiffens as Andrea makes a sound of objection. Amy takes advantage of the stare down between the two older women to escape to the small cluster of people around one of the ever-present notebooks. Morales and one of the women Shane is less familiar with have joined them.

Dale reaches out and grips Andrea's shoulder gently. "You've got to let her make her own choices. And it sounds like she's got an expertise we sorely need."

Shane makes his soothing gesture less overt, simply pressing Scout's shoulders with his knees. She responds by stroking the back of his knee with her thumb, going with the idea to let Dale handle it.

"It's hard to see her as an adult. I missed so much."

Scout actually makes a soft sound of agreement, drawing Andrea's attention back to her. The Marine shrugs. "Jazz was in kindergarten when I enlisted. Most of watching him grow up, I did over pictures in emails until Skype came along. Honey was older, but not enough to really count."

"That was the military though. I just kept working for one more promotion."

"About half of my time away was voluntary, for about the same reasons. All we can do now is be get to know the more grown-up versions."

"Besides, the more she's involved in constructing our little village, the less you have to worry about her wanting to contribute out on supply runs," Shane adds, remembering how Andrea definitely hadn't like the idea of Amy joining any Atlanta runs.

"How is that going to work?" Rick asks. He isn't the only curious one.

Hershel ends up answering instead of Scout, which Shane thinks she's probably grateful for. She's admitted to being glad she won't be in charge of the entire settlement once they arrive. He thought it might bother him, to cede the leadership that seemed so important before, but when he thinks of the day-to-day details and how much he hated desk work back at the station, he supposes he agrees with her there.

"We've been logging everyone's existing expertise, even the newcomers," the veterinarian explains. "Anyone who has a skill that's already useful, like T-Dog's CDL or Henry's plumbing and welding experience, will be asked to put that to use right away. Anyone who doesn't have any immediately needed skills will be asked to pick a team and learn. While we can technically house all the able bodied in RVs through the winter if we find enough solar panels to keep heat in them, most aren't really meant for long-term living. So, we'll start with the most vulnerable and build cottages or bunkhouses. It's going to mean a lot of folks needing to learn construction skills. But we also need to gather all the supplies we possibly can, so supply teams will be swinging out on a pre-set pattern to clear out nearby towns."

"Priority supply run is on King County first though, even though it's a trip," Shane adds, gaining a relieved look from Rick. "You haven't been able to get through to your friend, and we know the hospital's mostly accessible."

"Plus, we don't want to leave military supplies just lying around like you described are there," Scout adds. "We should be able to move down there and back within a week, since we aren't having to allow for young and vulnerable."

"After the attack on the Vatos, I have to agree with you there." Rick glances to Lori, who looks resigned rather than angry. "By we, that mean you're going?"

Scout laughs. "Yeah. Jamie's more valuable on the construction team than on a supply run, since he worked construction in the summers while he was in college, before the Marines. Figure we'll take you, me, Shane, and T-Dog, if he's willing. You think there's enough to merit another four-person team? Keeping in mind paired drivers."

Rick thinks it over and then nods. "Things could have changed in a week, but from what I saw, there's been no serious looting or anything of the sort. There's several businesses, including one that sold generators and other farm and marine equipment."

"There a U-Haul place in town?" Scout looks thoughtful when Rick nods. "Good backup plan if the military vehicles aren't viable. It's a bit of a mixed issue. Gathering up military issue vehicles can make us a target, but they're usually diesel, which will stockpile longer. U-Hauls are generally easier to drive, but we've got a limited number of months for gasoline to last, even with additives. It's why we want to push hard for supply stockpiles now, while gas is still useful. Might be able to figure out some larger-scale bio-diesel eventually, but it's not a priority other than needing to make sure we keep vehicles capable of using it around. Dad said the neighbor next door converted and set up a system to fuel his farm equipment, but I doubt he produced enough to rely on for trips out into the state."

"How long will gas last?" Dale asks. "I must admit it isn't something I really thought about. I suppose I just figured things weren't as bad on a wider scale as it seemed or wanted to think that, anyway."

"For gas in vehicles and storage tanks, we're probably looking at six months, so we're a third of the way into that. When we siphon, we always pump it into a glass jar first, to check the color and odor. If it's not cloudy, dark, or smelly, we pump it and dump in additives. It's why you should never pump unknown gas into a container with existing gas. Granted, no one here's really got to worry about paying the repair bill if we run questionable gas, but I'm sure the mechanics would prefer not to be making repairs they don't have to, and no one wants to get stranded. The biggest problem we're going to start running into is that ethanol blended gas really only lasts about three months. So, after that, it'll start drawing in water from the environment. We'll still collect it, but it won't go in anything that goes out on a supply run."

"And diesel?"

"Used to, it'd last for years." Hershel looks grumpy as he relates this. "Nowadays, the new blends in vehicles and fueling stations are as bad as gasoline and need additives to last. We keep an eye out for marine and off-road diesel storage, because that hasn't converted to the new type yet."

"Lots of lakes up here," Shane comments. "Might want to prioritize hitting up their gas storage."

"The logistics of this are a bit mind boggling." Dale looks a little overwhelmed.

"That's why we've been having multiple people on the planning," Hershel says. "So no one person is overwhelmed."

"Makes sense." Rick looks thoughtful and actually smiles sheepishly. "And some of us have skills that probably better serve outside the planning group."

Shane laughs. "You're just remembering how much you hate paperwork, brother, just like I did."

"Can't say I'd rather face the dead than report deadlines, but it definitely ranks pretty far up there on issues I like to avoid."

That invokes laughter from the rest of the group, and Shane notes how his people from the quarry are less tense around the Dixon group now. The separation is starting to blur as the two groups blend together and learn to rely on each other.

~*~CP~*~

Arriving in Conns Creek the next morning didn't take long. The freeway is almost completely clear between Canton and the small town's exit, although the southbound side has its share of abandoned vehicles like all routes leading to Atlanta. She wonders if they kept going further north, if they'd see similar patterns around Chattanooga. She helps with the temporary setup of the nursing home, working with the medical staff to offload everyone and enough supplies, while Scout and Jamie take teams to bring abandoned vehicles to reinforce the building's fence.

"You look tired, Mama," Sophia says, passing her a bottle of Gatorade. "Cricket said to make sure everyone that was offloading stuff drank at least a bottle. It's hot already."

Carol can agree there. She's sticky with sweat in places she's gotten used to after months of living outdoors, but it doesn't mean it's comfortable. "Are you excited to almost be there?" she asks her daughter.

Sophia grins. "Yeah. I always wanted to live on a farm, and even though they say theirs really wasn't a farm, not like Hershel's, they still have animals and all. Did you know that Jazz was raising sheep for his 4-H project this year?"

"I did hear something about that." It had actually been that Merle's property ended up with a herd of sheep because each kid chose sheep as their focus at least one year of their 4-H years, and eventually one sheep turned into two and so forth. Merle found them to be tidy little lawnmowers.

"Alright, everyone, listen up." Scout has climbed onto the top of one of the RVs to get everyone's attention. "We've done all we can and the longer we're here, the more likely we attract attention they don't need. Sasha, Allen, and Sam are going to stay to help out since they've still got wounded. So, we're going to get underway, since the faster we get home, the sooner we can get those portables set up on property and get these folks behind good walls."

The words act as a catalyst for everyone to load back up. Carol knows she can't wait for the safety of walls around her and eventually, once priority goes to those in more need, maybe an actual bed to call her own. She can't imagine how it feels for those who've been on the move for months in full knowledge of the dangers they're travelling among. The quarry group at least pretended the world wasn't dead around them. And for the Dixons, it was home, with people they knew and cared for waiting on them.

Falling into her place in the caravan is becoming easy habit, although this time she's got Jazz along for the ride with Sophia. The boy's slowly easing away from his need to stay near Shane, although Merle warned Carol he could have flashbacks or panic attacks unexpectedly when Jazz asked to ride with them.

They're headed about thirteen miles out of town, and thanks to the group already on the property, they know it's clear at least. Carol half listens to the chatter as Jazz tells Sophia about the area, although he looks more sad than excited as he watches out his window. She figures it is bittersweet for the teenager. They may be home, but this is no longer the safe world he grew up in, and so many of the people that populated the places he remembers are gone. The road they're travelling on is officially a state highway, but it shows the same careworn tar and gravel that most county roads use, just with better shoulders.

She's watching the odometer closely, even though she knows it'll be hard to miss the line of vehicles in front of her start turning off, so she's ready when the slowdown begins.

"We'll turn off onto three different county roads before we get to ours. Two paved and one gravel," Jazz explains. "Ours is gravel and a private road. Dad and Mister Eldridge just kept it graded himself and added new gravel as needed."

"Just the two properties on that road then?" Carol asks.

"Yeah. We have the sixty-three acres against the river bend. Mister Eldridge has the forty acres we'll drive through to get to ours. The road kinda goes through the middle of his property, twenty acres on either side."

They've reached the first turn Jazz mentioned already, and Carol notices that unlike the first road, which seemed like a narrow version of the state highway, the paving here is a little more elderly and patched. She figures all these roads means it's harder to find the property by accident at least. The houses on the first road and here are spaced out, country lots with sprawling yards that Carol figures are a couple of acres instead of the tidy postage stamp size lots like where she and Sophia lived with Ed. Everything's deserted, yards overgrown as only a Georgia summer can do to runaway grass. It's sad in a way that the deserted houses in the towns they passed through wasn't.

By the third turn, they're two miles off the highway. There are no visible houses on this road, which is such narrow gravel stretch that Carol thinks it'd be a pinch to try to get two of the larger vehicles side by side without someone hitting a ditch. The only evidence that anyone lived on it at all is the occasional mailbox near a driveway that disappears into the tree line.

When they make it to the road Jazz says is officially their road, it's gated, although Maggie's standing near the open gate with the easy posture of a girl long used to farm gates. She waves as they pass, and Carol figures the final vehicle will pick her up after she shuts the gate. This road is as narrow as the other, but in better condition. With Merle working construction, she supposes they were better off than waiting on a county maintenance schedule.

"They've let everything grow up a lot," Jazz comments, looking around. "Normally we keep the trees and bushes and grass back from the road."

"I guess it helps it look deserted," Carol replies. "Although the road might be a giveaway if they keep it fixed up."

"Yeah. We're about to lose the trees for a bit anyway."

He barely finishes speaking when they leave the tree line. Open farmland is visible now, rows of greenery and vegetables in neat rows, broken up by the occasional line of boundary trees. In the distance to the right side of the road, Carol can see a big farmhouse, barn, and various outbuildings. The Eldridge farm, she assumes. Jazz lets out a little sigh of relief. Seeing the neighbor's farm intact probably is reassuring to the boy.

The road returns to being heavily wooded, and there are no more turns, because the gravel road passes through a set of massive stone pillars, with the wrought iron gates thrown open. Carol doesn't recognize either of the people watching them go by, so she figures they must be the locals. Jazz waves to the young man with flaming red hair, who flashes a thumbs up.

"That's Gage. He's Mister Eldridge's grandson, but he lived next door with his aunt and grandfather."

"What happened to his parents?" Sophia asks.

"Dunno about his mom. She lives out of state somewhere now. But his dad died in a car accident when he was like eleven, so he came to live here."

They leave the wooded area to another open area. It isn't cleared completely the way the Eldridge Farm is, with more trees. Jazz points toward a small ranch-style house and cottage that nestle together off a small driveway. "That's Tihu's house. Or was, before he got transferred. And then Glynnis' house next to it."

"And yours?" Sophia asks.

The road turned driveway makes a curve around a tree line that had blocked her view to the left and Carol can't imagine a prettier scenario. The big, sprawling house has the popular log-cabin look that is completely at odds with the sheer size of it. It looks like something out of the fancy real estate magazines at the doctor's office. She can't tell exactly as she pulls to the garage parking pad like Merle instructed when they left town, but she thinks it's either an L or a T shape, with a porch running the length of the house on the garage side. Jazz shifts anxiously at the sight of a woman on the porch, so she shoos him to go greet the elderly lady, giving she and Sophia a chance to adjust.

"This is a really big house, Mama," Sophia says softly, looking up at the two-story structure. "And did you see the barns out past it? So pretty."

Carol shakes her head. The size of the house caught her attention to completely to keep looking beyond it. Before she can begin the old pattern of worrying, she reminds herself that this is a new beginning for almost everyone. A tap on the passenger glass further distracts her, because Honey snags the door open and grins.

"C'mon, Sophia, you need to meet Grandma Glynnis. You too, Carol." Somewhere in the last few days, the "Miz" title the two younger Dixons tend to use with any of the women over thirty dropped off Carol's name and she isn't entirely sure why.

Others are out of their vehicles, parked here and there in a way that seems a bit random to Carol but makes sense to Patricia, so there's some pattern to it. Expressions vary from relief to admiring to disbelief, although the last is mostly from members of her old quarry camp. She lets herself be drawn up onto the porch to meet the white-haired woman who wears coveralls with the grace of a model.

"This is Sophia and Carol. We're keeping them, Ladies, this is Grandma Glynnis."

Glynnis laughs and offers a hand to Carol. "Hannah, I'm pretty sure we're keeping all of them, not just these two ladies."

Honey rolls her eyes. "Not like that. These two are family. We're _keeping_ them."

The woman's brown eyes are assessing as she sweeps them over Carol and Sophia. "I see. Well then, I suppose that'll make sleeping arrangements a bit easier."

Before Carol can ask what that means, Daryl thuds up onto the porch and sweeps the woman into his arms for a hug so enthusiastic that he's got her lifted a foot off the ground. Since she returns it with equal enthusiasm, Carol decides to live in the moment and smile at the joy of two reunited family members. She knows it's bittersweet for both of them, as there's still no word of Abby's arrival.

But for now, the vast majority of the Dixon clan is home... and they've brought everyone to safety with them.

A/N: The next chapter will introduce the first new POV scenes – Glenn, Daryl, and Lori.


	16. Something to Contribute

A/N: Daryl and Glenn POVs ended up in the next chapter…

**July 28, 2010**

~*~ MD ~*~

After all the greetings between his family and those that held down the fort here are past, Merle whistles loudly, drawing everyone close. "I know everyone's worn out and probably aching for a shower and time out of a vehicle, but I'm going to need to impose on a few of you to load up and go with me to start pulling those portables. We'll get quarters assigned to everyone first though, so those who aren't immediately needed can queue up and shower so they'll all be free when the moving crews get back."

That holds everyone's interest, so he takes the notebook Hershel hands him. He scaled out the living quarters plan before, although finding Amanda and Jenny changed it a bit. Amanda wasn't sure how comfortable Jenny would be sleeping separate from her, but she told him they'd try it out. They'd get the girl an air mattress for her mother's room if need be.

"Folks already here are going to stay where they are, between the two smaller houses and the two RVs already parked over there. Gonna add Amanda to Glynnis' spare room, since her place is better set up for a wheelchair than the others. Jenny, you're gonna bunk in the other house with the girls. You know Amalia and Leo and their kids already."

The girl glanced to Leo's oldest son and his nephew and nodded. No objections there.

"Gonna assign the RVs to family groups for the most part. Dale, you and the two ladies in yours, of course. Donna, your family can stick with the RV you've been using, and Tyreese's family will take the other. On the rest of the RVs, Morales, Grimes, Henry, Ryan, y'all each take your pick for your families. That leaves a few for couples. Sam and Ana, Jim and Jacqui. Zach, you're welcome to bunk with Jazz in the main house or take a spare bed in one of the RVs."

He consults the list again. "Glenn, there's an office in the big barn there. Got a set of decent bunks for needing to stay close to the animals at night and its own bathroom. If you and T-Dog don't mind being that close to the critters, that's all yours."

T-Dog laughs. "A real mattress and a bathroom with working plumbing has me sold. I'd just about share a stall with one of the horses at this point."

"Well, luckily we're better off than that," Merle says, giving the other man a smile. He had been uncertain that the two men might feel offended about the barn room. "Alrighty, for the main house, luckily my two youngest liked having sleepovers, so they can house a few. Honey, you're going to room with Sophia, Beth, Isabelle, and Andy. If he can't settle with one of you girls, we'll reassess. Jimmy, you're in with Jazz, and Danny, you get a choice between bunking with them or sharing with Jamie, but I'll warn you that his room doesn't have bunks."

The youngest Marine eyes Jamie with pretend wariness. "You don't sleep cuddle, do you, Jamie?" The other man just shrugs and winks. Merle will let them figure that out.

"Hershel, you'll get the guest room. It's the first one on the right up the stairs. That'll put you next door to Beth." The veterinarian is already aware and in agreement to the arrangement, although he offered to take an RV instead and let one of the couples have the guest room. Merle had reminded him they'd all prefer the couples to have a bit more privacy. "Cricket, you and Tara take your place with Meghan and Lilly. Shane, I'm pretty sure Scout remembers the way to her little cabin, even if it's been over a year since she slept there last. Carol, Patricia, and Maggie, you ladies are taking the master bedroom. That'll put one of you on the couch in there, but I can attest it's comfortable enough for someone my size, so it should do well for y'all."

Carol frowns. "We shouldn't put you out of your own room, Merle."

He waves her off. "I got an office with a good futon that I'm fine with until we get some better places settled for everyone."

"You forgot someone." Daryl is giving him an exasperated look, so he chuckles.

"Grab one of the good camping cots and stick it in the office. I already know you sleep cuddle." True enough, although the futon really wouldn't sleep two grown men comfortably. He knows Daryl will want to keep a close eye on him though, so what sounds like the short end of the stick for his brother is better than what he'll end up doing if Merle doesn't give in. He prefers not to trip over his brother in a sleeping bag on his floor.

"We good to use the RV bathrooms?" Dale asks. "My water tank is full, and we used that dumping station at the quarry camp, so I'm good for a little while."

"Plenty of water. When your tanks run low, pull over to the big barn and use the tap on the well shed next to it. Hopefully by the time anyone's ready to dump, we'll have something sorted out that doesn't involve filling the on-site septic tanks. Gonna take a bit more ingenuity there. If you need more water pressure than the RVs manage, there's three and a half bathrooms in the main house, two upstairs, the master, and a mudroom bath by the laundry room off the kitchen. If you sweet talk Cricket, her garage apartment has a shower too."

Glynnis steps forward. "After you stash your belongings and manage a shower, come see me in the kitchen in the main house. We'll get organized on what to do this afternoon with the supplies we brought and start figuring out what folks want to do in the long run."

Folks are looking anxious about the idea of those showers, so Merle puts them out of the misery of waiting. "For the team going out, I need T-Dog, Tyreese, all the cops and Marines. 'Cept Daryl. Need you to stay and get the backhoe out and prep a spot for a septic tank for the retirement home we're cobbling together. Go toss your stuff where you're gonna sleep and meet me over by the green barn. Take gear like a supply run, but it's probably going to be too hot to wear it." They call it a barn, because that's what it could be used for, but in reality, it's where Merle stores all the equipment for the property. He's going to want his work truck and the gooseneck trailer for this trip, rather than waiting to unload anything that came with them.

They're lucky that a guy out near 575 ran a house moving business, so they don't have to go far. Glynnis verified when they checked in this morning before leaving Canton that they cleared his property and his two semis and all equipment were there. No sign of him or his family, but Merle doesn't figure the man will begrudge the borrowing of his equipment for the purpose they intend, if he did survive by some miracle.

Everyone scatters and he heads for the green barn, keying the smaller entry door open and being glad everything's off-grid here. It would have been a bitch to try to break into this particular barn if the electronic locks and automatic garage doors wouldn't work. He knows Daryl will shift his things out of the truck for him, so he might as well get everything else ready to go.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol grabs her duffle and passes Sophia hers, smiling at Daryl from where he's reaching for his and Merle's. She's still wary of the idea that she's literally taking Merle's bedroom away, but since Maggie and Patricia seem fine with the idea, she supposes she shouldn't upset the status quo.

"C'mon, ladies. We'll drop Sophia with the girls so Honey can go show off her domain, and I'll show you where to put your stuff." Daryl shoulders the two big duffels with ease, tipping his head toward the house. They follow, with Sophia splitting off near the front steps to join Honey where they're still waiting on Beth and Andy.

The foyer of the house definitely exceeds Carol's expectations from the outside already being so large and pretty. The area has soft blue painted walls and a shiny wood floor, with a nearly overloaded wall-mounted coat rack to one side sporting a variety of light jackets and a couple of backpacks that have seen hard wear. Boots and sneakers are stacked mostly neatly in a shelf below the coat rack. But it's beyond the foyer that's truly impressive. While the foyer's ceiling is normal height, the living room opens up into the upper story, with a gorgeous fireplace to the right and a kitchen/dining area to the left. The big room is cool, not A/C level cold, but cooler than the already stifling morning heat outside by at least ten or fifteen degrees, and she can hear the gentle whir of some sort of fan in addition to the ceiling fans she can see running. An intricate wrought iron spiral staircase accesses an open 'hallway' that connects two areas upstairs.

The furniture looks comfortable and well-used, with a variety of mismatched throw pillows and small blankets tossed pell mell around the big sectional and separate recliner. It feels almost foreign to see the big flat screen television and all its various equipment settled between floor to ceiling windows that give an amazing view of the sparsely wooded land beyond the house. She thinks she can see some of the sheep she's heard about in the distance near a pond.

Before she can satisfy her curiosity about the kitchen, she startles when Daryl touches her elbow. She almost forgot he is guiding her, and those duffels he's carrying have to be heavy. "Sorry."

He shrugs it off. "No worries. You can poke around wherever you like once we drop off the stuff, if you want to let one of the others bathe first."

He leads her off to the right, to a hallway past the fireplace and away from the part of the house she knew the garage connected to. There's a door along the space, but he passes it in favor of another further down, where the hallway ends. It opens into a master suite of the type she's only seen in magazines or on TV. There's an alcove with the couch Merle mentioned facing a small flat-screen TV. Behind the alcove is a door that goes into a room that is back toward the living room, probably on the back side of the big fireplace. The king size bed dominates the room, with a fireplace beyond that she thinks is one of those double-sided ones. There's a door on either side of the fireplace.

Daryl points toward the two doors by the fireplace. "The one toward the back side of the house is the bathroom. Other is the closet. Just drop your bag on the chest at the end of the bed if you want, for now. Merle might ask you to shift some of his things into boxes so you ladies can use the dresser though."

He's heading for the other door as he speaks, opening it and stepping far enough in to drop both duffels on the futon she can see to one side of the room. That must be the office then, and it's the room with the other hallway door. So at least they aren't evicting Merle very far from his usual space. The bedroom both does and doesn't fit her image of Merle. It's masculine, with every indication that no woman took part in decorating it, but more tasteful than she really expects from a single dad. Then again, she figures nothing about this house will fit with any notions anyone from the quarry formed about Merle.

"I'm gonna head back out and go see if the backhoe decided to be cranky after not being used a few months. You good if I leave you? If you need to find Sophia, just take the spiral stairs up and go toward the right. It'll be the third door, since the bathroom's between the guest room and Honey's room. End of that hallway, you can access Cricket's little apartment over the garage if you need too, and there's a set of stairs that go down to the garage level and up to the attic between Honey's room and Cricket's place. Other side of the spiral stairs is Jazz and Jamie's rooms, separated by a bathroom same way as the other side. So, they're more or less right above us. Oh, and hot water for this bathroom has its own tank tied into the heat pump system for the house, eighty gallons, so you three ladies should be able to all shower before it needs a break."

She nods, absorbing the information and knowing she'll probably need to explore to really get it all memorized. He starts for the door and stops. "Almost forgot one little trick."

He surprises her by guiding her with a gentle hand at her back toward the door he said was the closet. He opens the door, revealing a nice-sized walk-in closet that would make most women envious, but it isn't the clothes or built in drawers he shows her. It's a set of stairs leading down at the back of the closet. "Basement access. There's another in the laundry room. When Patricia gets here, take her down and y'all explore." He flashes her that little crooked half-smile of his, and she wonders what surprise lies in wait below her feet that he's sweetly amused by her potential reaction.

Daryl really does leave this time, and since standing in the closet really does make her feel weird, she makes it back out into the bedroom just in time for Maggie and Patricia to pass Daryl in the hallway. Both women stop just inside the door, and Maggie gives a low whistle.

"I don't know what I did for Merle to hand me these digs, but I'm really glad that man likes me," she comments. She puts her bag on the big chest at the end of the bed too. "Mind if we share the bed? Patricia kicks like a mule, so I already told her she's getting the couch if you didn't mind sharing."

"I'm not that bad," the older woman protests.

Maggie puts her hands on her hips. "Otis outweighed you by fifty pounds and you managed to kick him out of bed more than once."

The blonde gives in and laughs, although her expression turns mournful as she walks over to plop her bag down by the couch. Carol figures Otis must have died, since Patricia still wears a wedding set.

"How far did you explore?" she asks Carol. "Because I'm dying to see what kind of bathroom there is, if the bedroom's this nice."

"I haven't made it to the bathroom yet. The office is through there and the closet's over there," she points to the open doors.

"So, let's open magic door number three," Maggie says, crossing to open the door and disappearing with a muttered "Holy shit, this is nice. How the hell did this man stay single?"

That spurs even Carol's curiosity, so she and Patricia join Maggie. The bathroom takes up two thirds of the width of this part of the house. There's a pocket door that leads to the closet next to a gorgeous shower and little alcove that must contain the toilet. A large bathtub is freestanding near the fireplace, with a view through the literal wall of windows that look out over the back of the property like the living room ones do. She thinks she remembers similar in the bedroom, but those had blinds obscuring the view so they didn't draw her attention like this one. She'd missed the deck out back while in the living room, or else it was only down on the master suite end of the house. She doesn't think she's ever seen a bathroom with French doors leading out to a deck, but she's in love with this one. The only part of the back wall that isn't a window is a mirror over the vanity middle of a pair of sinks. There's no chair under the vanity like there might be if a woman used it for makeup, but instead a wicker hamper for laundry.

"Forget the bedroom, ladies, I think I'm going to bed down right here in the tub," Maggie exclaims. She's bolder than the other two women, moving to look over the personal items set around the sink closest to the door. "Wonder which of the colognes he actually wears and how many are daughter gifts." She sniffs one of the bottles and hums happily. "Daddy begged us not to buy anything but Old Spice for him, because it would be a waste, but Merle's got four different ones here."

"Guess you'll have to just sniff him after he's had a good scrub," Patricia suggests. "And hope it doesn't cause your father to have a stroke in the process."

Maggie giggles as she replaces another bottle she's opened to sniff. "Might give Merle a stroke too. I got the idea off his girls that he definitely doesn't rob any cradles."

"Well, then, if you want to chase any Dixons, you'll have to see if you can catch Daryl then, since girls aren't your cup of tea," Patricia advises. She's opening the cabinet behind the bathtub and looking at the towels. "So rock, paper, scissors for the first shower?"

"I've got no problem taking a bath while one of you showers," Maggie says.

"You go first, Patricia," Carol offers. "Daryl told me to have a look around, and I kind of want to see where Sophia will be."

"Makes sense. I'll try to make it reasonably quick, since I'm not sure what kind of hot water we're dealing with."

"Daryl says this bathroom has its own hot water heater with an eighty-gallon tank."

"Guess Merle didn't like to share with a houseful of teenagers. Oh man, I'm going to enjoy this," Patricia says, setting out towels and washcloths. "Maggie, go get our toiletry bags and changes of clothes."

Carol leaves them to their happy chatter. It's clear the two women have known each other for years, although she isn't entirely sure if they're related or not. She closes the door to the office just because it feels better to have that part of Merle's space away from curious eyes. After the impressive bathroom, she looks around the room a little closer, noting it does have the big windows on either side of a set of French doors that look almost like windows themselves until you see the handles. She crosses over to inspect the blinds, realizing they're build into the glass, not hung against it. It takes her a minute to find the controls and she manages to open all the blinds and let sunlight in the room.

She can see from here that the deck does extend the length of the back of the house, the wood stained to match the deep color of the log exterior. The end down by the bathroom has a pergola overhang, with a porch swing hung, but outside the bedroom it's open air, with a set of pretty wrought iron patio furniture minus its cushions. Those are probably in the little storage chest she can see next to the outer rail. The house is so beautiful it almost makes her forget the ugly world outside the property boundaries.

Deciding to go find her daughter like she told the other women, she turns away from the view reluctantly. There'll be time to explore the outside later.

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane wipes his forehead with the tail of his shirt before taking a drink of the water one of the kids brought over. His part is on hold for the moment, since they brought the two halves of one of the modular classrooms back. He'd helped detach everything that needed detaching - gutters, duct work, and so on - and driven Merle's big Dodge dually back with the small construction crane on the gooseneck trailer. Merle and T-Dog drove the semi-trucks with the actual building, with Scout driving ahead in the flatbed truck to open gates. They'd squeezed through both gates on prayer and luck, but he figures that's by design. You didn't build a place like Merle's house without some big equipment having to come in. He wonders how long it'll take the old quarry camp members to put two and two together on all the equipment Merle wants brought back from his business just north of town that Merle owns it instead of salvaging it like the two semis and the setup underneath each building half that forms the 'trailer'.

Now he and the others from the building run are watching as Merle, Jamie, Daryl, and Tyreese use a weird little piece of equipment Merle called a Platypus to push the half on the Platypus into the other half where he backed the two semis together so close Shane thought they were certain to collide. Merle took them by to load up the crane before they got to the school and realized the buildings still had metal frames, so he could treat them like a doublewide mobile home instead of a full modular. Apparently, the other type would need a foundation set and a crane to lift them in place, but you couldn't use the crane to put stacked cinder blocks under safely since they weren't as stable. But they'll need the crane tomorrow anyway because Merle's sending a team after a septic tank.

"That'll never cease to be cool to watch," she says. "Much faster than the days of bottle jacks and a come-along to pull the two sides together."

"You go on the job site with your dad a lot?" Shane asks. The rest of the process seems to involve a lot of crawling under the building where the two parts meet now, along with the requisite cursing from the men as they manhandle things into place.

"Not as much as the younger ones did, but he was really just getting the custom home business started when I graduated. So, I did get to see more of the odd job work like this one, more when he was part of another company's crew."

"That why you've got your own little place instead of in the main house?" Tara's question is one that Shane is curious about too, but figured against asking since he liked the privacy of the cabin being off away from the rest of the residences.

"Yeah. He actually finished the house near the end of Cricket's sophomore year of college, which is why she's got the garage apartment instead of just a room. I figured I wasn't going to be here much, but the cabin was a good project when I was home to work on with Daddy."

Rick glances back over his shoulder at the big house and nods. "I haven't even seen the inside and I'm impressed."

"It was a project with an architect out of Atlanta. She wanted to experiment to show that green technology would work well even in higher end homes for a doctoral thesis. She got her thesis and he got a lot of crazy clients and a shit ton of profit for his company. Any of you other than Danny and Tara go inside?"

They all shake their heads and Tara shrugs. "I didn't go into the main house, although Cricket showed me the door into the upstairs hallway."

"Well, it'll be an interesting tour then, since we'll likely use that kitchen for preparing meals unless people just want to cook for themselves."

"Yeah, I'll pass, thank you," Tara says with a smirk. "I'm spoiled to the delights of Patricia's kitchen witchcraft now. I've seen what she can do outdoors. Give that woman a kitchen and I think we'll all be in food heaven."

"Then you're really going to enjoy supper tonight, when you get to taste what happens when I have fresh veggies to work with." Shane turns to see Patricia and Glynnis have approached to look over the work site. "That's going faster than I really expected. I know he was worried he'd still have to set a foundation even with the modulars. Scout's right, though. Until building us a canteen with a kitchen fit for feeding everyone can be arranged, that kitchen is going to be my favorite place for a while."

"You got enough help for kitchen duty?" Scout asks. Shane really hopes they're not about to be volunteered, because once Merle gives the all clear they aren't needed, he wants to try out the shower in the cabin. Today's heat is not helping with the travel funk they all carry, and he can smell the scented soap or shampoo Patricia's indulged in, which makes a shower even more appealing.

"A whole little platoon of helpers actually. Never seen a bunch of boys happier to peel potatoes in my life. We're having potato salad, roasted corn, and stuffed bell peppers for supper tonight. I'm going to miss that glorious monster of a grill your daddy's got on the back deck when the propane runs out, Scout."

Scout laughs, slipping an arm around Shane's waist and leaning against him despite the heat. "I'm sure you can talk him into coming up with a wood burning alternative by the time we don't have any more propane stocks."

The description of the menu makes his mouth water. He wishes Merle could actually use the extra hands in his audience, but he prefers to stick to the three helpers who've done the process before since he wants the building off the trailers completely by nightfall. Everyone is watching in case he changes his mind, although at least they'll have the general idea how to help on the next building, since there were three at the school.

"I think Maggie's plotting to be your future stepmama to keep access to that bathroom, Scout," Patricia remarks, drawing a lot of startled attention.

Scout laughs. "I'd wish her luck with that because if seventeen years was too much for him and that lady lawyer from Atlanta, I think twenty-one is really too far."

"Oh lord, you heard about Honey's matchmaking?" Glynnis grins. "Who complained, her or your daddy?"

"Both. He was disturbed that she thought he could just replace one lawyer girlfriend with another like tinker toys. I think I was the only one who ever liked Evelyn anyway. He didn't want to remarry and she wasn't looking for that either. Worked out best for both."

"I didn't realize you ever met Evelyn," Glynnis says.

"She picked me up from the airport when I flew in on leave once and Daddy was delayed getting to Atlanta. We kept in touch after."

"Evelyn?" Tara asks. Shane's curious too.

"She was a partner in the firm that handled Daddy's business' legal needs. They were together, as much as you can call it that, for five or six years... Huh."

Shane glances over at her and she laughs. "I just figured out why Andrea seems half familiar. She could be Evelyn's twin if she were twenty years older."

"That might explain the antagonism they had," Shane suggests.

"Maybe. Far as I know, they parted on good terms when she took a job in Seattle, but who knows where his mind wandered."

Shane files away the new pieces to the patchwork puzzle of the Dixons. Before anyone else can seek more, a spate of cursing erupts as Merle's climb from under the building snags his shirt on something. He frees himself, but the shirt is definitely worse for wear.

"A'right. Let's drop this baby off that Platypus and see what happens," he calls out to Jamie, who follows the order.

Shane finds himself holding his breath as the building half on that side drops onto the cinder block piers with a groan. Everything holds, so the process is repeated to drop the second side. There's still a lot of reattaching work to be done, but for now, they have the first new building successfully in place.

"Rest can be done by Henry and whoever he enlists tomorrow," Merle determines. "Let's all get cleaned up before Glynnis and Patricia refuse to serve us supper."

"Now, Merle, we wouldn't refuse to feed you. You'd just have to eat outside with the critters until you stopped smelling like one." Glynnis is grinning and Merle barks out a laugh.

"Those RV showers aren't really going to cut it. Glynnis, can you take Rick and Tyreese down to Daryl's old place and yours? That'll spread most everyone out to get a shower right away too."

Shane does the mental math when Glynnis agrees and leads the two men off. Other than he and Scout, that is everyone to a shower.

She grins at him. "C'mon, deputy. Let's see if the cabin shower can manage two."

Like he's going to turn down that offer. He follows her with a matching grin.

~*~ LG ~*~

Lori startles when there's noise at the office door. She looks up from where she's working on Merle's laptop, expecting Patricia or Glynnis. She can't help the flinch when it's Merle instead.

He's shirtless and grubby from the work he was doing outside, and she knows, logically, that she can't begrudge the man in his own home. But she knows he saw her involuntary movement because he frowns.

"Occurs to me that I apologized to folks on the Atlanta run, but not anyone else personally," he says, voice softer than she's ever heard him speak. "So, while the nature of what I did to myself makes most of the last few months murky, I owe you an apology first for being an active addict around your kid and second for anything I did to you yourself."

He sounds sincere. She's not so sure. She knows from experience addicts aren't always to be trusted on the longevity of their regret. "You never bothered Carl," she manages.

"That's damning with faint praise, cos I'm betting I did bother you." As if to prove he's of clear mind, he looks thoughtful. "Who was the user that taught you to be careful?"

It's a little sad that the first person to ever catch that is a man she has detested for months. She shakes her head, not willing to open that can of worms yet.

"A'right. I can respect your privacy on it. I'll make you a deal though. You ever think I'm slipping, call me on it." He starts to offer her a hand and then thinks better of it as he sees the grime. "Glynnis said you offered to convert recipes for bigger groups. She show you where the extra paper and ink are?"

"No, she just booted up the computer and helped carry the cookbooks. You sure own a variety."

He chuckles. "About two of them are mine. But at various times over the years, one or another of the kids would get it in their heads they wanted to learn to cook something different and along came a new cookbook. 'Bout the only kid who ever stuck with cooking enough to get really good at it is Jazz."

He pushes away from the door frame and crosses the room to the cabinet by the desk and swings a door open. She completely misses what he says about the supplies because she can't take her eyes off his back.

She must make a sound of some sort because he turns and arches a brow.

"Your back..."

Merle shrugs. "Been a part of me so long, I tend to forget what it's like for a new person to see. My father was not a good man."

"That's a lot more than not a good man," she says softly. She's not sure there is an inch of his back without some sort of scar. If someone just showed her a picture, she would've guessed a torture victim or POW. But if his own father did that, she guesses he _was_ a torture victim. She can't imagine a parent ever doing that to his own child.

"Carol said he killed your mother."

"Yeah, he did. And the assholes running the parole system let him out early by mistake. Only regret I have about that man dying is that he stroked out and choked to death instead of me ridding the world of him after he hurt my family again."

"I understand." And she does, surprisingly. If a man who hurt her like that showed up after Carl, she'd want to end him herself too. "That's why you were protecting Sophia, isn't it?"

"Ed never had to lay a finger on her to leave damage. I just made sure he was more afraid of me than anyone else in camp to add any more to it. That much I do remember."

"You were quite an asshole," she says. It's something that would earn her censure from most folks she knows, but Merle just laughs.

"Hopefully not to the point we can't see eye to eye going forward."

She manages a smile and she's not sure who's surprised more by it, him or her. "We'll see."

"I can live with that." He motions toward the cabinet to remind her of the supplies. "Was just coming for clothes originally. Figured everyone would appreciate it if I showered before supper."

She nods and gets up to check out the cabinet while he goes to rummage in his duffle and dump out a few items on the futon. Going back to the chair, she jostles the electronic photo frame and has to catch it.

He turns with clothes over one arm and a net bag of toiletries to see her still holding the frame. "You're welcome to turn it on. That's all my favorites of the kids and Daryl."

She hesitates, although there's never been anything she enjoyed more on learning about someone than looking through their photos. Merle reaches out and flicks the switch on. The first image is of the kids much, much younger. Jazz is still in diapers, being held by a barely teenage Daryl. The girls are all making funny faces.

"Getting all five of them to smile for a photo was always worse than herding chickens." He sounds wistful as he flicks through to a new picture before moving away. She glances at the posed image, a father-daughter dance formal picture, and can't help smiling at the joy on Cricket's face in the image. When she looks up again, Merle's gone, although she can hear him humming from a distance away in the master suite.

With permission given, she scrolls through the pictures, feeling nostalgic for normal suburban life now gone. The contrast of the angry redneck with the rough but polite man she just spoke to is hard to reconcile. But the images of the smiling family tugs at her heartstrings. She doesn't think her own photos show this much consistent happiness, not in years. And Merle did it alone, something that always terrified her when she got to the point where she knew she was hanging on to a dead marriage.

It's a sobering thought, and she sits the frame back on the desk. The final image is one of Merle sound asleep in a living room different than the one she saw downstairs, surrounded by equally snoozing kids.

Maybe he made more of an effort than Rick because he is their only parent, but she can't help the surge of envy and regret that turns her stomach. She knows if she's honest with herself, her clinging to the ill-fated affair with Shane is as much because of his adoration of Carl as for her own sake. Rick is a good father, but he was never a hands-on one.

She bumps the screen as she goes to turn the frame off, and there's a new child, a beautiful little blonde with shiny curls and the biggest brown eyes she's ever seen, atop a shaggy little pony. She doesn't look like any of the Dixons, but she's important if Merle has her picture among his favorites in his office. Setting aside the mystery for now, she turns off the frame and returns to her project.

Feeling sorry for herself is what got her into this place where she's avoiding everyone and hiding out in an office rather than exploring their new home and getting to know the others. Finishing this project will show she's got something to contribute too.


	17. Connections

**July 28, 2010**

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane stretches out lazily on the bed, enjoying the sensation of bare skin against good sheets and one of the better mattresses he's ever stretched out on. The small cabin does merit the name, with just enough room for the queen size bed, a closet with built-in drawers, a kitchenette with a woodstove obviously designed to cook on as well as provide heat, and a loveseat. The bathroom is sectioned off, and that not truly a separate room, only a privacy wall that keeps anyone not on the bed from seeing in.

Which means he is enjoying the excellent view of Scout toweling off. She tosses her towel to join his on shower rod and joins him on the bed, laying on her back and wriggling her toes. "God, I've missed the chance to just feel nothing but air on my skin without worrying about what's outside."

He laughs. "Me too. I used to always sleep in the nude. After that damned cheap ass uniform all day, I couldn't stand anything on me."

"Can't say I did that all that much, but that's more to do with too many years of communal living. I'll have to try it out. It'll certainly teach everyone to knock."

"Something tells me they'll be careful about that anyway." No one wanted to walk in on a couple in the middle of sex after all, and the cabin wouldn't leave much to the imagination if someone opened the door.

"Probably." She rolls to her side to face him, expression serious. "You up for this? We've gone from introductions to essentially living together in less than a week, and I don't think either of us was ever up for that kind of commitment before. I'm not saying end what we have going, but we can..."

He stops the words by kissing her silent, smiling when the kiss finally ends and she looks less worried.

"We already know that what we have is different than what we looked for before. I want to give it a try. If we end up feeling like we're too much in each other's pockets, one of us can beg a temporary spare bed for the night elsewhere."

"Alright. We sure have a small space to get used to each other in."

"About the only thing that worries me is that woodstove in the kitchen."

She actually giggles, making him realize how little he's seen her truly carefree. "I was never here enough to really need to cook, so we decided it would be a good backup to the solar power in case the batteries couldn't get enough charge. The regular HVAC system is a heat pump of sorts that heats and cools. I'm guessing from how cool it is and the fresh sheets that Glynnis prepped the place."

"And cooking?"

"When I came home, it was never for more than a week at a time, so I devoured enough of Daddy's cooking to last me until the next time I was on leave. There's a toaster oven and a hot plate in one of the lower cabinets, which I think I used a total of twice in five years. The cabin is actually a few years older than the main house."

"Did y'all start out in the little ranch house?"

"Yeah. We moved here the summer between my freshman and sophomore years of high school. Before that we were up in northeast Georgia a while after Daddy got out of the Marines."

"Where all did you live?" It's a little foreign to him, because he's lived all his life in Georgia.

"I was born in Guam, but we left there for 29 Palms, California when I was eight months old. We were only in California for a little over a year, then North Carolina until Daddy's final enlistment ended after Desert Storm in 1992. Not as crazy as some of the Army brat stories."

"I spent my entire life in King County except for college. College was in Statesboro, so not all that far."

She fiddles with his necklace. "You played football, right?"

"Yeah. Liked it enough to play as long as they'd scholarship me for it. Stumbled through a communications degree and when Rick changed his mind about being a history teacher to be an officer, I followed because I didn't have any better idea of what I wanted to do."

"I can't picture you as the PR guy for some corporation. Sheriff, maybe."

He snorted. "I came from the wrong side of the tracks for that, not in the county I grew up in. Just figured Rick would run one day, once our boss could be bothered to retire and stop being reelected."

"Daddy moved us all here to avoid that wrong side of the tracks issue. Did really well for the younger ones. Bet a lot of those biddies from where Daddy's from would shit themselves before the dead rose if they saw him now."

Shane figures she's right on that. He remembers the looks on the quarry camp people when they arrived, to seeing what Merle's built for his family here, which he's glad Scout missed in the middle of greeting the neighbors.

"I didn't get a chance to meet any of the neighbors. Glynnis lived here already, I remember you saying. They all seemed really happy to have your dad home."

"Glynnis has been part of the family since my parents divorced. She and her daughter, Carrie, lived up the road from us when we first moved back to Georgia. So she babysat a lot, became a surrogate grandma. When we moved here, she relocated too. Lived in town then in a little duplex. Dad built her the cottage when she retired."

"Where's her daughter?"

"As far as we know, on her way here. She was in Kentucky when this all hit. Her husband and some of his coworkers and their family were aiming for here since it's secure. That'll be a big can of worms, because Carrie is Tihu's ex-wife and she's been an utter bitch keeping my cousin from the family for years."

"How the hell did she manage that?" The kind of money Merle obviously has, combined with Glynnis' closeness, should have been in Daryl's favor, even if a law enforcement job wasn't.

"She's not his biological daughter. He married Carrie when she was a baby. Never did a formal adoption before Carrie played badge bunny and left."

"Damn. Poor Daryl. He must be out of his mind."

"It is contributing to his level of antisocial behavior." She sighs and rolls to snuggle against him, nuzzling at his throat.

He takes it for an invitation to provide a distraction. They've got time before they're missed at supper.

~*~ GR ~*~

Glenn thinks that being assigned to the barn room is definitely worth it. He ran back to his room to drop off a stack of clothing that already came back from the laundry team only to get volunteered by Maggie to help with the horses she is bringing into the barn.

"You've never ridden?" she asks, latching the stall next to the one where Glenn just filled with the grain he mixed by the instructions near the feed bins.

"City boy, both when I lived in Michigan and in Georgia. Never even did a pony ride as a kid."

"Well, I'll teach you, when we're between supply runs. You're still going to do those, right?"

"Yeah, of course. But I'm supposed to get shooting lessons too. Scout doesn't want me just relying on a machete, even if Canton looked more like a ghost town that anything else."

"I could teach you that too." She flashes him a smile, and he almost fumbles the can of feed for the horse she just stabled.

"That sounds great." He manages to tip the grain into the feeder although he has to negotiate with the horse to get his cap back.

Maggie giggles. They've been paired together on runs a lot, enough that he knows her well enough to know giggling isn't her norm. He doesn't want to get it wrong, but he thinks she's flirting.

"That one is a little too friendly," he grumbles.

"She thinks you're cute. She has good taste."

Well, even he isn't so inexperienced with girls as to miss that she's definitely flirting. This would normally be the point he'd ask for a date and pray for success, but dating is a bit difficult now. He thinks fast.

"Do you think anyone would be upset if we grabbed food and ate down by the pond?" he asks, giving her his best smile.

"Like a picnic?"

"Exactly."

"That sounds perfect. You snag a blanket out of your room, and I'll go talk Patricia out of our share of supper."

She leans in and kisses his cheek before jogging off.

He touches the spot and grins.

~*~ LG ~*~

Lori watches as Carl treks back to the main house in the dimming light with a backpack with clothes and toiletries for overnight. It makes her beyond nervous to have him that far away, but she can't keep denying the evidence that he's safer than safe among the Dixons. So, she sees no real reason to deny making him happy by letting him stay over with the two older boys and be able to spend more time around Sophia. He's missed his friend.

"I was surprised you said yes," Rick says from behind her in the RV.

She shuts the door, taking a moment to gather her thoughts before facing him. As much as she was horrified when Shane revealed the affair, she's now grateful he had the worst part of the reveal. She and Rick have barely spoken since, letting Carl carry all the conversation in the drive here.

Squaring her shoulders, she turns. "We need to talk, don't we?"

To his credit, he looks genuinely distressed. She always thought this conversation would make him happy, to be free of a woman he only proposed to because she was pregnant. Not that she can blame him. She didn't have to accept, and for the first five years, she couldn't complain about much.

But they already pushed this marriage eight years beyond its expiration date.

"I wanted you to feel like you were somewhere safe."

"But you made up your mind back at the quarry, didn't you? The night you and Shane talked." Because that's when he stopped reaching for her as soon as Carl was asleep.

Rick nods. She rubs at her bare arms, feeling suddenly cold.

"We'll tell Carl in the morning," she decides. She might as well have some part in the decision. "He would be happier rooming with some of the other boys. I'll see if I can bunk with one of the other women."

"Lori, no, I'll find another place to sleep."

"I've seen the quarters list, and it's not like you have Shane to bunk with now. It'll be easier for me to move around." She busies herself with repacking the few things she put out earlier when she showered.

"You know it's not because of Shane, right?"

She faces him again, sighing. "Yes, I know it's bigger than that. But it's not something we'd ever really get past either. And don't worry. I'm done being a bitch to him."

"And Scout?"

"And Scout." She sits on the bed, toying with a fold of the blanket. "It's funny. Before you were shot, I would have done my best to set them up."

She looks up to see a sad smile on Rick's face. "Me too."

"You never looked at me like he focuses on her." She reaches out to take his hand. "That's not meant to be a criticism, Rick. We dated because it was what everyone expected and neither of us was willing to buck the expectations. Not until you decided to be a cop."

"You were never happy about that."

"No, but I can't deny it was your calling. Maybe now is the time I find mine "

She doesn't turn away when he leans in for a kiss, but the intimacy is bittersweet. She strokes his cheek when he pulls away, earnest blue eyes reminding her just how beautiful she's always found him to be.

"Just think. Now you can grow that beard you always wanted." She pats his stubbly cheek.

Rick gives her a wan smile. "You sure you're okay with this?"

"I'll be fine, and so will you. Carl will be happier if we are." She stands and finishes tucking away her things. "I'll go talk to the ladies. I'll see you tomorrow."

He nods, looking sadder than she expected him to be. She leaves him sitting on the bed, resisting the urge to look back again. If she does, she might lose her resolve, and she suspects if she really presses, he'll back off and they'll start this cycle all over again.

She leaves her bag at the base of the stairs up to the deck, remembering she saw some of the women having drinks out there when she left with Carl earlier.

They're gone, but Merle's on the end nearer the stairs. He's got his feet propped on one of the patio chairs, holding a bottle he seems to be studying more than drinking.

"Sorry, I was looking for Alaina or Ana."

He gives her a slow half smile. "Ana headed to her RV and Alaina is inside fretting over her missing kids. Anything I can help with?"

"Um. I'm not sure."

He drops his feet to the deck and pushes the chair out for her. "Take a load off and we'll find out "

She sits, realizing as he sits the glass bottle down that he is drinking a cream soda, not a beer like she first thought.

He sees the glance to the bottle and shrugs. "Alcohol doesn't make me ugly me the way the other does, but it's a matter of resolve to stay clear headed."

"That sounds like a good plan."

"You want something to drink?"

She shakes her head. "I'm more in need of a new place to sleep."

"Huh. You sure on that? Splitting with the ole man? That's a tough road to take even before." She's surprised by the amount of concern on his face.

"Maybe it makes it more important not to keep making each other unhappy."

"True enough." He sighs and takes a deep swig of the cream soda. "Got plenty of company on the single parent thing here."

"How did you do it?"

"Didn't have much choice. Lilliana needed to be gone and my girls and Daryl needed me. World's most painful learning curve, I think. Didn't get it right for a while."

"You did a good job."

"I suppose I did. Hopefully still am." He finishes off the soda and stands. "Feel up to trusting me for a tour?"

Why the hell not. She's turning over a new leaf, right. She stands and follows his lead into the master suite. The closet makes her a little more wary, until he motions at the stairs hidden in the back.

"Did you see the basement door when you came around to the deck stairs?"

"Sorta." She wasn't really looking around.

"This'll come out right by that." He disappears down the stairs and she follows, now too curious not to.

The narrow stairway opens up into a basement that's been finished out nicely enough she wouldn't guess it was a basement except for the lack of windows. The room they're in is set up as a family room, with a pool table and two comfortable looking couches.

Unlike the upstairs living room, the TV here has at least two gaming systems she recognizes and one she doesn't.

He sees her looking and grins. "Keeps the noise and inevitable yelling downstairs instead of echoing around the whole place."

He leads her past a small kitchen with a fridge, sink, microwave, and two commercial freezers to a doorway that opens into a room with rustic bunk beds that remind her of the ones at Girl Scout camp.

"I didn't assign this space because the bunks aren't the most comfortable. They're more for the storm shelter side of things. But until we can get you an RV, it's a bit of privacy. Although I can probably ship a few boys down here and give you one of the upstairs rooms."

"I'm surprised they aren't down here. The other boys have got to be missing their game systems as bad as Carl."

"The girls tricked them into playing a board game after Beth found the game closet."

"I don't want to put anyone out." But being in the basement alone makes her skin crawl.

"I doubt any of the boys will be upset. Jazz's room isn't as scary as most teenagers', so we'll just send them down and they'll never notice the bunk beds are substandard."

"If you're sure." She notices the door on the other side of the bunk room, past another set of stairs. "There's more?"

"Yeah, but six months ago, you'd have called me a special kind of crazy." He uses a keypad for this door, waving for her to com look.

Where she can estimate that the part of the basement she's seen already runs the length of the master and living room, the big room beyond might actually be bigger than the kitchen to garage section of the house.

"It looks like a warehouse. Is this all food?". He's right that six months ago, she would've considered him a bit unhinged. Now it feels a bit like he's Santa Claus leading her to the North Pole as she explores the row upon row of stored goods.

"Mostly. The Mormons have some real good deals and good ideas about being prepared for anything. There's a year's worth of food for fifty people. Drop in the bucket for our current numbers, but good for emergency backup. Plus some medical and hygiene supplies and the water tanks."

She picks up a giant jar of honey and marvels at what's all around her. "Why are you being so nice to me?" she asks softly.

"Because I can't ask for forgiveness for my behavior at the quarry if I'm not willing to give it. Maybe it is easier for me, because my memory's shot to hell about it, but that's how it is."

He takes the jar from her and puts it back on the shelf. He replaces it with a bag of mini Milky Ways he takes out of a sealed plastic tub hidden behind a bucket labeled freeze dried apricots.

"Safest place in the house from Honey's sweet tooth. l figure you're in need of a dose of comfort chocolate."

She accepts with a smile. "Only if you'll share."

Merle laughs and motions her back ahead of him through the locking door. "I never turn down Milky Ways."

~*~ SW ~*~

"If the apocalypse hadn't already happened, I'd say I just saw one of the signs of it." T-Dog is shaking his head as he and Amy pass drinks around.

Shane takes a beer, anticipating both the cold drink and not having to be on night watch. Between the existing security system Merle has, and a few creative improvements Glynnis' group arranged, watch is two people in a room with video screens who also monitor the radios. Everyone on Merle's building crew is considered exempt for now.

Scout stirs enough to take her soda. She's reclined against him, using one of the big pillow chairs someone retrieved from upstairs as his backrest on the floor while those interested in old world luxury are watching a movie.

"What's that worrisome?" she asks.

Amy plops down next to her sister. "Merle and Lori are out on the deck eating out of a bag of candy."

"Ah hell, I knew that man had chocolate stashed somewhere," Scout grumbled. "As long as no one's screaming, I say leave them be."

"Your brother mentioned the boys are all being evicted to the basement." T-Dog's voice drips with curiosity.

"I doubt they'll see it as punishment considering the game room is down there. Daddy doesn't like the sound of gunfire in games, so he makes the kids keep the video systems downstairs." Scout glances over at her sister, who is braiding and rebraiding Tara's hair.

"Yep. They're still all down there. I figure the girls are about to be abandoned as soon as they finish that round of Apples to Apples."

"Good luck on that. The girls can always put the gaming table top on the pool table and move their game down there."

Shane laughs at the looks the sisters are getting as they discuss an entire floor of the house the newcomers weren't aware of. But he also feels a bit concerned, since Rick indicated at supper he was going to break the news to Lori. He leans forward to murmur in Scout's ear that he's going to go check on Rick. She nods and scoots forward to let him up.

He routes through the kitchen to grab a second beer and makes his way to the RV assigned to Rick. Knocking gets him the direction that it's open.

At the sad and relieved look on his best friend's face, he's glad he came.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol rolls onto her stomach and experiences a guilty enjoyment of suddenly being able to solve the mystery of which of Merle's colognes he actually wears. Although the sheets have the clean scent of detergent, she obviously got Merle's favored side of the bed, since the pillow is embedded with a lovely scent.

She must have made some sort of noise, because Maggie giggles beside her. She raises up to stare at the younger woman, who grins unrepentantly.

"If I didn't know any better, that was a sound of a woman who would prefer an entirely different bed mate tonight."

Carol feels her face flush as the rush of embarrassment flows through her. She plops her face back into the pillow.

Maggie's voice is softer. "I didn't really mean to embarrass you. I tend not to have a filter."

Raising back up, Carol gives her a wavering smile. She's young, enthusiastic, and seems like she really wants to be friends. Trying to be a little bolder, she pushes the pillow toward Maggie.

The brunette takes the dare. "Oh, good choice. You'll have to take a sniff to see if he still wears it."

Carol just shakes her head as she tugs the pillow back into place. "I am not going to go sniff Merle. He just feels responsible for me."

"I think it's more than that, but if you aren't ready to think about it yet, that's fine. Can I ask you something?"

"As long as it's not about Merle."

"Nah. What do you think of Glenn?"

"He's a sweet guy. Awkward, but a good man." Carol watches as Maggie thinks that over.

"We had a picnic tonight. He was very sweet, but shy."

"I think you wouldn't find anyone here more devoted, if you can let him move at his own pace."

"I can do that." Maggie snuggles into her own pillow and yawns. "Goodnight, Carol."

"G'night, Maggie."

As the younger woman joins Patricia in sleep, Carol finds herself glancing toward the closed office door. As much as she's convinced there's no way a man like Merle would be interested in a woman like her, she can't help but yearn a little.

~*~ LG ~*~

Lori closes the door gently behind the retreating boys, who are more than thrilled with their eviction. Normally, the idea of borrowing a teenage boy's room would be abhorrent, but Merle is right that the room is atypical from most.

She wishes Carl kept his room this clean and tidy. Everything is neatly in its place, and while she might normally think that Glynnis or someone cleaned the room, Merle assured her it's just Jazz.

The twin over full bunk is a built-in complete with shelving. As she puts her bag on the bed, she notices the intricate carving on the bed, all animals and forest. She wonders who did the work.

The books on the bed's shelf show a love of fantasy fiction and voracious reading. There are easily over a hundred books crammed into the shelves, and these aren't the only bookshelves in the room. The wall facing the front of the house has each of the windows framed with overstuffed bookshelves. Curious, she browses those to see a mixture of non-fiction books spanning everything from botany to military history. A few sports trophies are placed randomly in front of the books.

She's almost glad to see she's not the only parent who denied a TV in the bedroom. Jazz's desk is a neat and orderly setup with a powered down laptop tucked into a base station with a monitor and keyboard. It's possible he watches TV on the computer, but she senses not. Even the futon in the room has a few books sitting on one end. Everything about the room gives her the vibe of a kid who loves being lost in books. The only poster in the room is a Marine Corps one above the desk.

She changes into her sleeping clothes and taps at the bathroom door to make sure it isn't occupied before slipping inside. She latches the opposite door that leads into Jamie's room from the jack and jill bath. Like the boy's room, the bathroom is tidy and she's careful to leave it that way before returning to the bedroom.

She slips into the comfort of the bottom bunk and reminds herself that ending her marriage was a joint decision. The candy sharing conversation was surprisingly interesting as Merle easily shared some of the adventures of his early days of single parenthood. She can be grateful at least that she doesn't have four children and zero second parent input.

It doesn't stop her from feeling a rush of loneliness at being alone in a strange room in a strange house.

But at least in a weird twist of fate, she's made an unusual friend in Merle.

~*~ GR ~*~

"Did I or did I not see you coming back from the pond with Miss Maggie after supper?" T-Dog accompanies the question with a thump to the underside of Glenn's bunk. His tone is an echo of the teasing over him staying overnight in the Dixon girls' tent.

But this time the answer isn't a protest. "Yeah. We had a picnic."

"How'd that go? I see you're still bunking with me tonight."

"It was good." Glenn's glad his expression can't be seen, since he's grinning ear to ear.

"Hmm. Maybe I'll get a new roommate soon."

"I don't think I want to rush it like that. I'm not brave enough to casually face an ex over group breakfast if it doesn't work out like Shane."

"But if you don't take a leap of faith, man, you might miss out entirely. We aren't exactly in the land of plenty for partners anymore."

Glenn thinks the other man's tone sounds wistful and he wonders if his friend is lonely. "Maybe you're right."

"Can't go wrong with Maggie. Sweet and spirited."

"Should I be worried?"

T-Dog laughs. "No, man. She's a little young for my taste. But she's perfect for you."

"I hope so." He really does.

There's a yip from the bunk below and Glenn rolls to stare down where every single one of the eight puppy litter are curled up with his roommate. "Seriously?"

T-Dog just laughs and pets one of the fuzzy little heads. "Glynnis just said they had to be in the barn at night. She didn't specify the stall. I always wanted a dog, but kept putting it off "

"Well, keep that up and you'll end up with eight, and based on their parents, they're going to be huge." All the kids were thrilled to meet the Dixons other catahoula, a huge female named Livia, and her litter of seven-week-old puppies.

"I doubt Merle would let me have more than one."

Glenn lays back down, laughing at the image of the big man surrounded by content puppies. Maybe happiness isn't always found in romance.

~*~ DD ~*~

Daryl's already on his cot when Merle comes to bed.

"You sure that's wise?"

Merle looks his way after tossing his shirt in the laundry basket. He stretches lazily before answering. "Letting that particular storm keep brewing would just end up with someone hurt. Woman needs a friend who's been where she is, and I didn't figure you'd want to volunteer."

"Hell, no. Maybe you want to forgive and forget, but I don't want to be anywhere near her brand of bitchiness."

His brother sighs and sits on the end of the futon nearest Daryl. He reaches out and shakes his ankle gently like he used to when Daryl was a kid and worried about something.

"Tell me this... how long did it take me to offend the majority of that camp after we rolled in?"

Daryl considers lying, but Merle's got a virtual radar for his tells. "Less than a day."

"Just keep in mind that the woman you dealt with in camp thought she was a new widow in a world she wasn't equipped to deal with. Then this jacked up redneck blows into camp and they can't afford to do without our hunting... Blame her for anything she said, but you're gonna have to let me shoulder half the blame for how she reacted to us."

Daryl really doesn't want to accept the logic Merle proposes. He wants to forget his brother's ugly descent into addiction. It's easier to be pissed off at those who looked down on him and Merle than to process that the fear hasn't really left him that Merle's safe again.

When he doesn't answer, Merle sighs and moves away to keep getting ready for bed. He settles his bulk on the futon before he speaks again.

"She needs a friend as much as Carol, baby brother. Maybe her ole man didn't lay into her, but you and I both know that neglect can leave some pretty powerful scars too. And I don't think I've ever met anyone who reeks of pure loneliness more than Lori Grimes."

Daryl rolls to face the wall, hating that Merle is making him feel sympathy for Lori. The woman openly jerked her child away from him, as if he was going to contaminate the boy by being within three feet of him.

But Merle doesn't ask much of him.

"I'll be polite if need be," he offers at last.

"A'right. S'all I ask. Be nice if she had more than one friend though."

He hears the creaking of the futon's wooden frame as Merle rolls to sprawl in his belly as he likes to sleep. It doesn't take long before his brother's breathing settles into the rhythm of sleep.

Daryl just hopes this friendship doesn't come back to bite Merle in the ass. Not the first time Lori's been unable to stand on her own, and he doesn't want to see Merle as her next bedmate. Woman's got an eye for gravitating to power, and here, on Dixon land, Merle is the power.

After the devastation Lilliana left in her wake, Merle deserves someone loyal and sweet, like Carol. With that thought settling in his mind, he falls asleep too, avoiding thinking about his still missing daughter.


	18. Finding Fathers

**July 31, 2010**

~*~ MD ~*~

"Car with Kentucky plates just cruised by the retirement home."

Merle climbs out from under the daycare building where he just finished the trailer setup with Tyreese's help. "Which way are they headed?"

"Right toward us. Makes sense, considering.". Scout uses her binoculars to verify there is indeed an unfamiliar SUV headed toward them. She motions for him to step back and he does, trusting in her training. If these are the marshals, they'll respond to her uniform better than his work clothes.

Her stance is relaxed as she steps to where she can't be missed by the approaching SUV. It slows, and he has a moment where his stomach lurches and he hopes she's wearing her body armor with all the rest of her uniform trappings that the three Marines standing guard duty wear.

He doesn't recognize the man in the passenger seat when the window rolls down. "Good morning, Staff Sergeant."

"Good morning. If you're looking for the lady that lived in that duplex, she moved about a year ago."

"You know if she might still be alive? We've got a delivery for her."

"I might if that delivery is a package about this tall and blonde." Scout motions about midchest. Merle can hear the driver muffle a laugh, but the back passenger door opens despite the front seat passenger's hurried order to stay put.

And when he hears a little voice cry out, "Uncle Merle!", he's stepping forward into full view to accept the impact of Abigail throwing herself at him, sobbing. "I was worried you were all dead and I can't remember how to find your house."

Hugging the girl close, he reassures her that everything is going to be just fine. Jesus Christ, Daryl's going to be overjoyed, Glynnis too.

Scout's still speaking to the man in the car, and something sad passes over her face as she glances back to him. Ah, shit. Why else would it be important for Abby to remember where he lives when the adults should know.

"You invite these good people back to the homestead yet, Scout?" He crosses with his sweet burden to offer a hand to the man. "Merle Dixon."

"Former US Marshal Tim Gutterson. She was also a marshal, Rachel Brooks." Merle knows there's at least two others in the back, but based on the height of the one he can mostly glimpse, at least one's a child.

"Scout?" Abby raises her head, turning to stare at her cousin in wonder. Merle figures she didn't recognize Scout right away. His eldest spent most of Abby's lifetime away.

"Yeah, sweetheart. It's me." Scout breaks with the formal stance she adopted to greet the newcomers to reach out to take Abby's hand.

The girl's tone is heartbreaking as she asks hesitantly, "Daddy?"

"He's safe and sound at home, Sunshine," Merle tells her. "He's gonna be so happy to see you, just like your grandma." The girl beams at him.

"We got incoming friendlies, "Jamie calls out. "And based on the shitty driving of that semi behind the cars we sent out, they might want to get that SUV off the highway and in the parking lot."

The driver, Rachel, complies, turning the SUV so that it's parked to easily leave the daycare parking lot. The supply runners bring their caravan to a halt, the Subaru and modified bus they sent out giving the semi a wide berth as it lurches to a stop.

"Jesus H. Christ. Please tell me that's not Hannah Catherine driving a goddamn semi-truck," he mutters. Scout snorts and mutters something he can't make out as his youngest daughter hops to the ground from the big Freightliner, grinning like a loon.

And that's the signal for Abby to hit the ground, near tackling her cousin. Honey absorbs the impact with ease and scoops the girl up. They twirl around chanting each other's names in a display of high spirits that almost makes Merle forget the wobbly driving of the semi.

He glances over at the two marshals to see the woman is grinning. "If you haven't figured it out, the illegal driver of the semi is my youngest daughter."

"I believe she and Abby may have missed each other."

"We've all been missing our Abigail." There's been a gaping Abigail sized hole in the Dixons for three years.

"If that was a serious offer, we'd sure like to take you up on it for however long we're welcome. We've been out on the road a long time."

"You got our baby girl back to us. You're welcome to stay permanently. Not going to turn away good people."

She smiles. "There's four of us. Me, Tim, two kids."

There's a noise of protest from the backseat, and Tim snorts. "The back seat wants us to clarify one kid and one teenager of legal adult age."

"Ah. Another one like her." He tilts his head toward Honey, who has finally stopped spinning her cousin before they fell over from dizziness. "Honey, we need to get these good folks back home. And don't think you're driving that semi all the way home without ever a real lesson on something that big."

"We were gonna park it at the Blackbird lot til someone else could get it. I'm not crazy enough to try to turn it off highway toward our place. But according to the manifest, it's a treasure trove of stuff we need, so we didn't want to risk it not being there when we got another team back."

"Scout, you think you can manage?"

"I've driven worse for the Corps."

"We'll be only about twenty minutes pulling out here, so y'all go on ahead."

"Abby's staying with me," Honey declares. "I'm sure y'all are nice people, but I've missed her."

Rachel waves a hand at the girls. "Go on. We can see she's safe."

Honey trots off, still carrying her cousin, and scrambles into the passenger seat of the Subaru. He ought to lecture her about safety and not having the girl on her lap, but for today he'll let it slide.

Scout signals to Jamie to take lead on the guards keeping lookout while they load up the daycare building and heads for the Freightliner.

He turns to the marshals. "Just follow them in. They'll radio ahead so Homestead knows to expect extras. They'll get you fixed up with some home cooking and hot showers."

"Hot showers sound like absolute heaven," Rachel replies with a smile.

"And food that isn't out of a can or wrapper," Tim mutters. The sentiment echoes from the back seat.

Merle laughs as he steps back to let the big SUV pull out to follow the semi down the highway.

"Alright, boys and girls, let's get this show on the road fast as we can. I got a family reunion to rejoin."

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol pulls the Polaris to a stop by the work crew doing the reassemble work on the modular buildings. It's slower going than it would be with an experienced crew, but Merle assured everyone that the newbies learning is just as valuable as speed.

They already have a table for the cooler of water, so she checks that it's near empty and moves it to the ground while she unloads the new cooler and packed lunches for everyone. The big wedding tent someone brought back from town along with tables and chairs will give everyone a temporary break from the sub while they eat.

Daryl and Sophia climb up from where he was teaching her how the piping hooks into the massive septic tank they're finishing up for the little nursing home. Carol's a little surprised, because she expected to see her daughter shadowing Jazz on the solar panel installation. Maybe Sophia's unending curiosity about how everything works led her to the new lesson.

She hands off a cup of water to each of them, giving them a look over for any signs of sunburn. Sophia shows signs of fresh sunscreen, so she accepts their thanks and sets the big tub under the table for used dishes.

"How close do you think it is to finished?"

Daryl gives one of his typical half-shrugs. "Henry's got the plumbing all hooked back up, and Jazz and Pipsqueak here finished the solar panels for the first building before he got borrowed for some of the interior work."

Sophia gives the man a grumpy look at the nickname and he laughs. "Hit your next growth spurt and I'll come up with something new."

She seems to accept that. "Daryl's teaching me how to lay field lines, Mama."

"You have an interesting skillset for an officer of the law."

He scoffs. "Had to be twenty-one to go to the GNR Academy, so I spent some time working for the state until then and after I finished up my associates. Worked for whatever crew Merle was running while I was in school too. Good money in septic tank work cos folks are grossed out by it."

"I don't think it's gross," Sophia announces.

"That's cos we're installing a new tank, Pipsqueak. Just wait til we gotta pump one, then we'll talk."

The girl wrinkles her nose, causing both adults to laugh. Carol feels a by now familiar surge of affection for Daryl's careful attention to Sophia the last few days as everyone gears into a steady plan of fetching buildings and supplies. She wants them both to be assets, but the urgency of getting the older folks a safe home has backburnered most training.

Then again, Sophia spending all the time she's allowed with the building crew is good training too. She's not the only teenager other than Jazz, since both Leo's son and nephew are shadowing adults, the nephew with a hollowed out look of pure grief haunting him. The boy lost his parents and siblings before his uncle got him to safety.

Amy's been coming into her own once Andrea came around to accepting that her baby sister on a building crew is better than joining Andrea on supply runs. Apparently, her architect training crosses over well to framing, as they convert the larger classrooms into smaller bedrooms.

Carol itches to join in herself and see if she can learn, but it didn't take long for praise for her cooking to reach Glynnis. She couldn't resist when she was asked to head up one of the three meal shifts. It's a job that will only get bigger when the nursing home is complete. At least running the breakfast shift will give her time for other training later.

"Whatcha bring us?"

She's learned that Daryl won't touch the food until the whole crew is ready to eat. It's a habit both Dixon men adopt. It contrasts with Ed, who came from a background where men ate first and the more important men were foremost. But his unending careful compliments of any food provided to him is sweetly done.

"Some of Patricia's chili and cornbread. Got three chilled watermelons on the Polaris still."

"Sounds perfect. Spicy food is good in the heat," he explains to Sophia. "Makes sure you're sweating off the heat proper."

The Polaris radio crackles with Ana looking for Carol. The young woman is on watch, an easy duty for a girl with a damaged leg, along with Alaina, who sits as many watch and radio shifts as allowed to be the first to hear word of her sons.

"Are you out with Daryl?"

"Yeah, he's right here."

"Tell him they found Abby and she's on her way to him."

Carol isn't entirely sure the man's breathing, although the look of absolute delight is one of the best things she's ever seen.

Sophia's looking confused though, so she explains. "Abby is Daryl's daughter. She was traveling down from Kentucky."

"Oh." Carol's a little shocked to see Sophia look sad instead of happy for Daryl. "Do you want to go down to the gate then?"

Daryl finds his voice at last. "No, gonna go wait with her grandma and Cricket." The two women are outside on the porch at the main house, hugging each other as they wait. Daryl stops long enough to yell for Jazz about the news.

Carol reaches out to put her arm around her daughter as they watch the two Dixon males jog over to the porch. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

"He's got his real daughter back now."

Oh. She squeezes the girl tight. "I don't think Daryl's going to stop spending time with you because Abby's back. I imagine it'll just mean a partner in anything he's promised to teach you. Look at Merle. He's got a lot of kids and still spends time with you."

The elder Dixon brother hasn't missed spending at least half an hour with Sophia every day, listening to the girl read from the novel she started at the quarry. Sometimes they have company, as several folks seem to enjoy Sophia reading aloud. But it's always Merle who reminds the girl they're due another chapter.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. How about we get everyone settled with their food and maybe Abby will be ready to meet you?"

She's glad of the confidence she has that she's telling Sophia the truth about the security she has in the Dixons. Carol may still be trying to figure out her own role, but Sophia's as an adopted child is clear. Even Scout, the least demonstrative Dixon, is openly fond of Sophia.

Reassured and with something to do, her daughter goes to yell about the waiting food, leaving Carol to gaze wistfully at the family on the porch eagerly waiting for their lost lamb to return.

~*~ LG ~*~

Lori hefts the basket of laundry and smiles at the pair of teenage boys who lift their own loads. She was a little worried this morning when the twins were assigned to help her, since her experience isn't that boys are a lot of help with housework. But they easily went around and fetched everyone's clothes and everything came in marked with the owner's initials as she asked.

She doesn't mind the chore here, even if she avoided it as much as possible at the quarry. The Dixon house actually has two big frontload machines, which she thought was overkill until she saw one washer was clearly labeled "work clothes". With Merle working construction and the farm animals, she supposes it makes sense not to mix clothing when you've got the money to spare for two machines. But in order to make sure they get it all hung up in time to dry, she and the twins used the tumble washers to clean all the smaller items.

"I sure wish the dryer could keep up," Ben comments as he follows her through to the foyer to the front porch. The drying lines are out past the garage, and it's smoother footing to go out the front rather than down the deck stairs to go around from the mudroom door. She gets a cheery "hi mom" from Carl, who is unusually happy to be on dish drying duty, but that's probably due to the two pretty girls he's teamed with.

"Just be glad we don't have to hang it all up." There's only one dryer, and while Merle seems confident that the electrical system is capable of supporting a dryer running for hours, she figures why overwork it. So, she declared the dryer for towels and heavy fabrics only yesterday when she volunteered for the laundry shift and Glynnis backed her.

"Still gotta handle all the underwear," Billy contributes.

"Well, you two are safe from that part." She has the basket of everyone's socks and underclothing. No sense in making two teenagers handle all those bras.

The way out of the house is somewhat blocked by several Dixons and Glynnis, but they step aside to let the laundry crew by. She catches the glare from Daryl and suppresses a sigh. Merle told her his brother would come around eventually, but it's obviously not going to be today. She does feel a little better when she sees Glynnis deliver a sharp jab to Daryl's ribs with her elbow as they pass.

They've just managed to sit their baskets down on the camp stools now doubling as basket rests when she hears the sound of engines. She and the twins look to see which crew made it back, as it's always a sight to watch the modular buildings roll in.

But it's the Canton supply runners, who were sent to scope out the Walmart and its outparcel buildings since they cleared the medical supply places down to dust bunnies yesterday. The garage is full to bursting and they've resorted to tents on the lawn for the excess.

Today's run seems especially successful, because there's an honest-to-God Walmart semi coming through the gates.

It's the Subaru that draws attention though, because a girl younger than Carl exits the SUV and runs toward the porch, yelling for her daddy. Daryl scoops her into his arms only to be immediately enveloped by the other Dixons in a group hug. The girl's blonde curls remind her of the little beauty in Merle's electronic frame.

She turns back to her task, blinking away tears at the reunion. No wonder Merle wanted her to give his brother time to get over his antisocial behavior. He must have been going out of his mind worrying over that little girl.

She'll have to find out what the girl's favorites are to see if they can shift the supper meal plan.

It's the least she can do.

~*~ GR ~*~

Glenn returns Maggie's grin over the Dixon reunion, but it fades quickly in a surge of homesickness. He'll never know his family's fate, since traveling to Michigan is next to impossible now. That's not the sort of reunion he can ever expect, and he misses his sisters. Sometimes the easy affections of the Dixon sisters helps and sometimes it makes it worse.

Maggie seems to sense his mood as she joins him at the Subaru hatch to unload the smaller items they loaded in there. They didn't even begin make a dent in the back storeroom of the Walmart, which is largely untouched.

"You okay?" she asks softly, taking his hand.

He shakes his head, which apparently means he needs a hug. It doesn't chase away the homesickness, but he appreciates the effort.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Just missing my own family." She nods. He's mentioned them before on their picnic suppers, more his sisters than his parents. He never thought he could miss even his parents' staunch disapproval of his lack of life progress.

"Why don't you take a break and let someone else unload? Go visit the puppies, maybe."

He leans in to kiss Maggie's cheek, but she turns her head and he gets a real kiss instead. It's chaste and sweet like he always wants a first kiss to be, so he lingers a little before pulling away and heading for the barn.

Puppy cuddles sure seem to help T-Dog when his mood swings to sadness, so Glenn's open to trying.

~*~ DD ~*~

Daryl think the hardest thing he's done since the world ended might be letting Abby go up the stairs with her grandmother and cousin to get a bath. He wants her constantly in sight. Apparently, Carol understands his impulse and takes him by the elbow to the sink to wash up. She points out the cheese grater and blocks of cheese on the table.

"Lori changed part of the menu for tonight. Seems mac and cheese with bacon is someone's favorite. You can do your part."

Daryl's torn between gratitude for the skinny woman's decision to provide a comfort food to Abby and worry that the menu was originally set up as a birthday treat for Honey and Sophia.

Carol displays her growing ability to read his mind when she pats his hand as he sits down. He realizes they're alone in the kitchen, so she must have shooed the teenagers normally assigned as supper assistants away.

"I'm going to cover the supper shift tonight for Glynnis and I promise you that Sophia will be as happy with mac and cheese as she would've been with cheesy hash browns. We've still got a favorite for each of them on the menu. You work on that cheese while I get the cakes in the oven. By the time you get done, I'll bet Abby will be back downstairs."

He obeys, grating the cheese with efficiency despite his distraction. "Where's Pipsqueak?"

"She's playing hostess with Amanda and Jenny for the Kentucky folks." Carol points toward the back deck, where the foursome who got Abby here safely are enjoying cold drinks and the company of several of the dogs and what he thinks might be a baby goat fetched up from the little herd the Eldridges gathered up from neighbors who didn't make it. He supposes if you want to reassure law enforcement honed instincts, presenting them with happy teenagers and a wheelchair bound woman does make an impression.

"I haven't even thanked them."

"That's okay, Pookie. Patricia and I took care of them. You were where you needed to be."

"Pookie?"

She shrugs and smiles with a hint of mischief he's glad to see. "You gave Sophia a nickname, so I thought you needed one too."

"Ain't a teddy bear."

"You keep thinking that." She sets the mixer to whatever magic she's working in the big mixing bowl for a minute before continuing. "Merle sent a team down to the RV lot to bring back a couple more. He figures they'll feel better all in one place and with their own space."

"Not Abby."

"Well, of course not. But if she's prone to wanting to climb in bed with a parent, you need more than that cot. Lori already packed up to give you and Abby Jazz's room after Glynnis said she wanted her up here with you instead of down at her cottage."

"She's a bit old for sleeping with me, isn't she?" He can't remember when Merle's girls stopped running to him after a nightmare, and he usually slept on the floor next to Scout when she had nightmares after Will Dixon's attack.

"She might not, if she's just in the bunk above you. But she's lost her mother and her stepfather, so I don't want to predict what direction her grief will go. Rachel, the lady marshal, says she has been so stoic they're worried about her."

"I didn't want to ask Abby, but did they say what happened?" For all the dislike he built up for Carrie after she took his baby girl away, he never wished her gone like this.

"Carrie was sick coming out of Lexington. Not the flu, but something bad. She passed in the night just after they made it into Tennessee and they didn't know everyone turns." Carol pauses in her baking to turn to look at him. "Ethan got bitten putting himself between Abby and her mama."

"She saw?"

"Yeah. That and Tim having to shoot Carrie. Ethan helped them get back on the road, but they said he planned to end things before he turned, soon as Abby was gone and safe. They just kept on this way in hope there really was a safe haven."

Goddammit, his poor kid's not only lost her other parents, but gone through hell in the process. "They gonna stay?"

"I think so. Rachel's got her nephew she's been raising for years, and they don't have any reason to return to Kentucky. Tim mentioned a buddy in Florida, but I don't think he really wants to get back on the road again on just the possibility his friend survived."

"And the girl?"

"Former foster kid that his buddy down in Florida was keeping an eye on when he was in Lexington. Tim says her skillset is pure Kentucky redneck, so she'll fit in. She definitely is tired of traveling. Girl's Loretta and the little boy is Nick. He's the same age as Abby."

He finishes the cheese, mulling over the information. "This gonna be enough?"

She eyes the heaping mound of cheese and nods. "Gonna use Velveeta for the rest. I want to use it up while we have it."

"I'm going to go introduce myself. Tell Abby where I am when she comes back down?"

"Sure. Send the girls in to help me with getting supper in the ovens."

He surprises them both with the gentle hug he gives her on the way out.

~*~ SW ~*~

Scout passes the notebook to Patricia to file away after she details the information the newcomers gave about their trip down from Kentucky. It is not that different from Scout's up from Florida, although they trekked with much fewer people.

"I don't think we can ever repay you for getting Abby back to us," she says.

The female marshal smiles. "You already are with good food and a safe place to stay. I never thought I would see this many kids for Nick to play with again."

"Still, it's far beyond what most people would do for a coworker's child. I can't deny we can use your skills anyway."

"There any official chain of command here?" the other marshal asks. Something about the way he moves and observes reminds Shane of Scout. He's gotta be ex-military, definitely a combat vet.

"Official last word would lay with my father for most things. We've got a bit of an unofficial planning committee, so most of them are available to spin an idea by. Anything dealing with security goes through me and Shane. That includes the supply runs. Patricia tells us what she needs in what order and then Shane and I arrange the runs. We've been concentrating on getting the nursing home set up before we work on storage."

"Nursing home?"

"We came across a place in Atlanta where the elderly were abandoned. Had a few relatives, the janitor, and one nurse stick around. Intended for them to stay put until after we got a place set up for them, but they got targeted by a group of assholes. They're holed up off property for now since we didn't have any hope of housing them."

"Some would see them as a waste of resources," Rachel says carefully. She doesn't believe it, Shane thinks, but she's testing Scout's moral code to see if it aligns with hers. Something about the dynamic tells him that the other marshal will follow her lead.

"I was lucky enough not to experience any panic or orders to turn on the public I'm sworn to defend. I don't plan on deciding who I save based on how much work they are capable of."

"Semper Fi," Tim says. Scout nods. He exchanges a look with Rachel and she hums softly before turning back to Shane and Scout.

"Tim was a sniper in the Rangers. You got need of that?"

"Can you train others?" Shane asks. He's good, and so are the Dixons, but another person with sniper level skill who can pass that on would be a marvel.

The man thinks it over. "Never tried, to be honest. But I'm willing to give it a try."

"Good. We have a lot of folks who need lessons and not enough time for those of us who do teach to go around. Don't gotta turn out snipers, but making sure they know which end of the gun is which and missing out on friendly fire would be ideal." Shane makes a mental note to introduce the man to Honey, who could benefit from additional aspects of the gun craft she loves.

"Y'all have had a harder road getting here than we had, so I figure for the first week, relax and if you want to join supply runs after that, sure." Scout waves a hand at the sprawling property. "But I'm not going to assume that's where you want to fit in just because you were law enforcement."

"I don't mind a break, but I got no problem going out," Tim says. "And Loretta will probably want to. I'm guessing y'all are good with that since your sister seems about the same age."

"Yeah, even the teenagers can do runs, although that started out of necessity originally."

Shane shifts in his seat, realizing it's getting late and Rachel's nephew is sound asleep against Loretta in the group of kids playing Uno further down the deck. "We got an RV set up for y'all. Figured you'd prefer to stay together, but we can shift that if you don't."

Both marshals shake their head, and Rachel accepts. "Just show us the way."

Shane rises with them and Tim goes to pick up the sleeping boy. Shane leans in to brush a kiss across Scout's lips before leading the newbies to their new quarters.

He lets them explore a minute, grinning at Nick's excitement over the little bunk bed in the hall. "If you want more space later, we can sort it out. Merle's planning on more permanent quarters before winter hits."

"This is like a tiny slice of heaven after months in that SUV," Rachel says.

"Well, if you need anything in the night, me and Scout are in the cabin out at the woodline. Merle's bunking in his old office, so you can find him pretty easy if you tap on the one single door on the back deck. Got a deputy two RVs down that way, the one stenciled number five."

"Good to know." Rachel smiles at him as she leans in the doorway. "I'm sure you're anxious to get back to your wife."

Huh. Maybe Rick's comment about the appearance they give off is more accurate than he gave it credit. But he corrects the assumption anyway. "We're not married, but I think I'll add on a 'yet'."

"Then I wish you both all the luck with that. Precious little happiness in the world to let any escape you."

He just smiles and bids them good night. It definitely not a happiness he intends to let go.

~*~ MD ~*~

"Hey, Miss Phia, we skipping our book tonight cos of your birthday?" Merle's about ninety percent certain that's not it, since he tracked her down alone in the room she shares with the other girls

She shrugs, polite enough to pause in the careful inking she's doing with the art pens he scavenged out of that big semi for her along with several sketchpads and colored pencils. "I didn't want to interrupt your time with Abby."

Ah hell. Everything about the girl is screaming insecurity, and on her birthday, no less. He takes a seat beside her on the bottom bunk, mirroring probably a thousand other talks he's had with his girls.

"You should spend time with the family too."

She sighs and caps the pen, her expression solemn. "Honey's the only one who says I'm family."

"Oh, princess, I promise you that she may have been the first to say it, but we've all decided you belong with us."

"So, I'm a Dixon too?"

"If that's what you want." He understands the need to shed the surname connecting you to a bad father. He might have taken his Mama's family name if he thought about it before his kids were used to Dixon. He decided then to just make it something they could be proud of. "Sophia Dixon sounds pretty good, doesn't it?"

She smiles hesitantly. "But if people ask how I'm a Dixon, what do I say?"

"Whatever you like. Can say you're mine or Daryl's or that Honey stole you outta the cabbage patch, long as it makes you happy."

She's quiet and thoughtful for long enough he starts to get concerned. "I think I'll say you're my dad. Daryl's a great uncle, and Abby kinda needs him all to herself right now."

Just like that, Merle's the father of six. He pulls her in for a hug and she snuggles close in a way she hasn't in previous hugs.

"I like it best when you call me princess," she murmurs against his chest.

"I'll keep that in mind." He spots the novel they've been reading on the nightstand and reaches for it. "How about I do the reading tonight?"

"Like a bedtime story? Only ever had Mama read those to me."

The yearning in her tone makes him hope Scout and Shane let that bastard Ed suffer before they ended him.

"Yeah, princess, like a bedtime story."

And if he reads himself hoarse, waiting until she falls asleep against him, while little peeping toms sit in the hallway listening, well, she's got years of missed bedtime stories to make up for.

~*~ DD ~*~

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, Abby?"

"Can I sleep with you?"

Daryl's glad Carol's motherly instinct led her to warn him. "Sure, Sunshine. Come on down here."

She scrambles down the bunk ladder and manages to knee him squarely in the gut in her goal to tuck in close to the wall. He cuddles her close, breathing in the scent of strawberry shampoo on her blonde curls.

He's not sure how or when to broach the subject of her mother's death or Ethan's. She didn't mention them to Glynnis or Merle or her cousins either. He doesn't remember losing his own mother, even if he knows intellectually that it was probably as traumatic as Abby's experience.

The closest he can think of is the months of grief and confusion Cricket experienced at her mother's disappearance. Scout's rage sustained her through those rough first months and Honey was just a baby, but damn Cricket cried. He thinks it was probably healthier, since she recovered from losing what little mothering Lilliana provided better than Daryl or Scout did.

"Daddy? It's safe here, right?"

"Yeah. We have fences and the river and a lot of people to look out for you."

"And Rachel and Tim are staying?"

"We invited them to. I think they will."

She wriggles up to kiss his cheek. "Mommy kept saying you weren't Daddy anymore and to call Ethan that. But he told her to hush and he wasn't replacing you."

"Ethan sounds like a good man."

"I wish they didn't die."

"I wish they didn't either." He hugs her close, expecting tears, but she just sighs softly.

"I love you, Daddy. You are my sunshine."

"Love you too, my little sunshine." His heart aches in a good way at the easy return to their bedtime goodnight.

Maybe they still need to face his daughter's grief and trauma, but for tonight, he'll just enjoy that she's home and safe and no court can ever take her from him again.


	19. Loyalty

A/N: This chapter ends with clearing house at Grady, which might be a lot graphic. If you prefer to skip scenes with violence, the Grady section is summarized in the end notes. Just skip Shane's second section.

**August 6, 2010**

~*~ SW ~*~

"I'm half wishing we brought a third team," Shane says as he finishes his final inspection of the big military truck he's driving back to the Homestead. His is full of every usable military supply they could scrounge from the abandoned military camp. The MREs alone add at least a month of insurance that they can feed their people in an emergency.

Rick laughs. "I think between you and Morgan, it would take an act of God to get into that old warehouse we stashed the overflow in. I'm counting our blessings that we found so much we had to prioritize."

"You still fretting over our abundance?" Scout asks, but her tone is less amused and more understanding. She went through lean times in the road like the quarry camp did. It's not really something Rick can comprehend.

"I know that only a King County native would think to look there, but I think Patricia's inventory notebooks crawled in my brain and spawned."

"Just think of how overjoyed she'll be when we pull in with all this."

"I'm just glad they reported in that they have plenty of trailers for storage." After Honey simply drove off with that first semi, it occurred to the planners that the semi-trailers were a quick solution to keeping supplies out of the rain and weather.

"There's going to be some really confused groups one day when they find all those piles of reject goods lying around parking lots."

Rick's distracted during his exchange with Scout, so he nudges his best friend when the woman walks away to help Zach with a tie down strap.

It gets him a sheepish smile. "Was just thinking we're unusually blessed with being able to return home and clear out our things. Maybe we could suggest similar trips to check out other hometowns."

"It's a good thought. Give some closure to those who want it and have native knowledge of the area both. Some places would be too far, just yet." And some, like Allen and Donna's hometown of Valdosta, might never be on the list.

Although with good maps of which routes are clear, they made amazing time here, managing it in a single day, even with moving and replacing strategic 'traffic jams', which they agreed to after the Vatos attack. That group is still out there, because Scout can't spare enough fighters to take on a town the size their captive described. Not yet. He knows the existence of a place that preys on others eats at her, and the fellow that runs it just doesn't know his days are numbered yet.

It was the gathering of goods and fuel that kept them here three days. One of those was just clearing the hospital, especially the cafeteria. If that herd had ever gotten loose, it might have ended ugly for someone.

They have two of the military transports loaded just with hospital supplies, taking everything that isn't too bulky to transport so far when there are closer hospital facilities for taking equipment for their future infirmary.

Best part was that the generator was still struggling along, so they were able to get the computer system on to retrieve Rick's hospital records, thanks to a nurse who taped her password under the keyboard. Cricket and Hershel didn't like mysteries in their patient's treatment.

"You ready to go?" Scout steps in close in the habit she's developed, accepting a kiss after he smiles sheepishly for being lost in thought.

"Yeah. Just be glad to sleep in our own bed tonight." He got spoiled at the Homestead, sleeping in the nude next to her, even if half the time they were too damn tired to take advantage of that nakedness. On the road like this, they've managed shared watch shifts again so they're always able to curl up together, but it isn't the same.

"Hopefully our travel luck will hold. I've got plans that involve you and our shower." She grinned and walked away to hustle the others into vehicles.

"Sometimes I'm a little jealous," Rick says, startling Shane as he watches Scout walk away.

Shane feels the heat of a flush but ignores it. "You aren't regretting ending things with Lori, are you?"

"No. We're both happier now. But I do miss knowing there's someone to come home to at night." Rick looks hesitant, the ghost of the affair between them and Lori's spiteful behavior in camp.

But their friendship can't heal past that if they avoid the easy crude jokes, so Shane makes it. "We gotta get you laid, man."

"Like who? Not exactly a one-night stand world anymore."

"There's at least three women who wouldn't mind scratching an itch with you. Not sure I'd risk it with Andrea, too much of a black widow vibe, but Sasha or that pretty redhead farmer? You should think about it "

"Lenore? She's got kids though."

"Doesn't mean she's gotta be celibate or look for a stepdad for them. She's the type for casual, not like Lilly. That one I'd warn you off of. She's interested, but she's a forever kind of gal." At Rick's incredulous look, he grins. "I'm taken and happy, brother, not ignorant to all I learned about single women before. Never got to be your wingman."

"Alright. I'll think on it "

They part ways for Shane to head to the rear of the caravan and his truck, while Scout drives solo at the front. Everyone else is paired except Zach, but they decided in the end that taking the two extra truckloads was worth the risk of three drivers without anyone riding shotgun.

Time to go home.

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle nods at the message the watch messenger brought that Scout's very successful caravan just hit the road down in King County. He knows his daughter is capable and her deputy would die to protect her, but having her so far away for four days now is driving him loopy. He wishes she had taken Jamie on the run too, but his construction skills are better suited here.

"It's all good, right, Dad? They'll be back soon." Sophia is looking at him with that expression of absolute faith she's been wearing ever since he reassured her about her place in his life. But the Dad name is new.

"It's all good, yeah. We'll have to keep working hard to keep ahead of them if they keep up runs like that."

She grins, but it fades. "It is okay to call you Dad, right?"

"If that's what feels right to you, princess, then it's good for me too." He throws an arm across her skinny shoulders and directs her toward the foundation they're building for Patricia and Glynnis' new cafeteria. Even those in temporary housing agreed that a decent place to feed everyone took priority now that the elderly are settled in.

She's putting in cinder blocks with all the serious concentration of a master mason when he sees Lori driving the Polaris with the water coolers on the back. They graduated to two and set water breaks after a close call two days ago with Leo's son Mateo and heat exhaustion.

He leaves Sophia to her masonry and goes to lift the coolers onto the table. He knows Lori is capable of lifting them, but it feels rude to watch. She settles the stacks of cups in a bin so they won't blow away, and tucks the usual bin for the dirties under the table.

"You heard they're on the way back, right?"

"Yeah. Watch sent one of the small fry down as a runner."

"Good. I'm wanting to talk to Rick about letting Carl join Honey's shooting lessons, before he drives me crazy about it. I know Rick's going to say yes, but...'

"You're trying not to leave him out of major changes. I get it."

"Especially since I spent so many years protesting Carl learning." She gives him a rueful smile. "I'd best get back to the house before today's helper crew turns everyone's underwear pink."

He laughs and helps himself to a cup of water as he watches the Polaris return to the main house.

When he returns to Sophia, she's frowning.

"Something wrong, princess?" The nickname is thus far a key to getting her to talk through any insecurity.

"Are you dating Lori?"

Dating sounds like something too frivolous for the world they're in now, and even so, he isn't interested in Lori. He knows a lesser man might take advantage of her loneliness and vulnerability right now, but he's never been the type. She's made no indication of interest, either, so he isn't sure what's making Sophia think about them like that.

"No, she's just a friend. Neither of us is interested in romancing the other."

"Some of the women think you're sleeping with her. They wonder how long til she's moved in with you."

"Which women?" He doesn't care if they gossip about him. He's ignored that shit for years, especially the speculation about his sex life as a single, eligible man. But he's always put his foot down anytime it affects one of the kids' happiness.

"Andrea started it, and she's the only one really rude sounding about it. But they're all crazy curious and think it's just a matter of time. Andrea calls Lori a gold-digger. Mama told her to hush and not be so mean."

He feels disappointed to hear that Carol's involved in the gossip, although not surprised. The woman is getting bolder and more likely to stand up for herself, but she has years of habits to break of deferring to others. Andrea being the instigator doesn't surprise him. Out of the women at the quarry, she's the only one who still avoids him.

"I'll have a chat with the ladies about my private life staying private, but if they say anything to bother you in the future, you just let me know."

Sophia smiles and nods, returning to her work just long enough he thinks the subject is dropped.

"Would you ever think about my Mama like that?"

"Sophia." When she doesn't look up, he tugs off a work glove and gently grips her chin to turn her to look at him.

"Your mama just spent a long time in a bad situation. She deserves to spread her wings, and me starting anything like that would be taking advantage of the situation. And you don't need to matchmake me and Carol. She could up and marry Hershel or T-Dog tomorrow and I'll still be your daddy as long as you want me to be "

"So, you're saying not yet, not a not ever?" There's a spark of mischief among the wistfulness in her expression and he tweaks her nose before getting his glove back on.

"I'm saying you quit your worrying about who partners who and get back to work, missy."

She giggles and returns to her task. They work in a contented silence, which leaves Merle to consider the situation.

He meant what he said about Carol being vulnerable. He came near to warning Daryl off, since the amount of time his brother spends with the grey-haired woman makes him think his baby brother might have finally found a woman worth taking a risk on after all the damage Carrie inflicted. But he let it be because it isn't really his place to interfere. Daryl's not going to push Carol past any comfort zone she sets. He raised him better than that.

He's never really considered her in light of his own interest. It's there, and if he'd met her when she wasn't less than a month out of an abusive relationship, he can admit he's attracted enough to her warm personally to consider breaking his near two-decade personal ban on serious interest in a woman.

But there's Daryl already there, and Carol is still learning not to hide in the shadows.

But the gossip, that he can put a stop to before it hurts more than Sophia.

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane halts as the caravan does, and the radio crackles to life.

"Two survivors penned by at least twenty dead. Hit the roofs and let's extract these guys."

His truck is too far to use as a firing platform and so is the one ahead of his. He hits the ground running, with Glenn and Maggie on his heels. They each comply with the order by climbing onto a different vehicle close in. Karen glances at him, but goes back to taking aim with the air rifle.

Everyone on this run is a skilled shot, so they fell the last walker within five minutes of Scout sounding the alarm. Shane estimates the fallen to be closer to thirty, since some lurched from out of visual range toward the noise of the air rifles. They were quieter than conventional firearms, but still loud enough if the dead were close by.

She gives the hand signal to clear the ground after five minutes pass without any new walkers. She thumps to the ground, and Glenn, Karen, and Sasha follow. He hates the separation of not being her partner on the ground. But keeping the best shots other than Scout herself on potential sniper duty is more important.

He keeps an eagle eye on the four moving on the ground. The people trapped on top of the abandoned city bus are following the command to stay put. The two look exhausted and he wonders how long they've been trapped on top of the bus.

It doesn't take long for them to ensure all the dead are permanently so, and Scout gets the two survivors to slide down after she slides a dumpster up to the bus. One stumbles and the other catches him. Scout points toward the vehicles.

As soon as they're in range to avoid shouting, she calls out to Zach to grab his medic kit. The young man slides down the hood of his truck and has the kit open in the floorboard before his patient is lifted into the passenger seat.

Shane signals for Rick and Maggie to hold position. "He bit?" he calls down to Scout.

"No, looks like an infected cut. His boy says he caught his arm on a jagged fire escape when they got cornered about a week ago. Zach's going to start him on an IV for the dehydration and we'll snag some of the IV antibiotics from the hospital. I'm going to go radio in to get the dosage from Hershel."

He nods, keeping half his attention on watch and half on her journey up to the lead truck.

Movement in the distance catches his attention and he lifts his binoculars. The car is approaching slowly and carefully. It looks to be Atlanta PD, but that's no guarantee any officers survived to be driving it. They certainly saw no sign in the months at the quarry.

He sounds the alert, a long, low whistle that has every head turning his way. "Cop car coming from the east."

"Maggie and Sasha, my truck. Zach with our foundlings. Morgan, you follow. Stop at the middle school we used to leave the first time. Maggie's in charge."

The vehicles pull out so quickly that the slowly approaching car isn't even halfway to them. Shane hopes the fact that it isn't speeding up with three vehicles leaving is a good sign. Rick is on the ground now, since Morgan's driving off with his perch, but Shane stretches out to make himself less of a target.

As Scout moves to stand point with Glenn, Karen, and Rick behind her, he's glad they all dress like military on these runs. If these are cops, they'll respond to the uniforms better than civilian attire.

He has to grin when she makes sure her stripes are unable to be missed when the two officers step out of the car.

"Officers Shepherd and Licari," the female says. She's alert, but her posture is carefully 'good cop'. Her partner isn't as much at ease, but Shane doesn't think he's a threat at the moment.

"Staff Sergeant Dixon. Can I help you?"

"We were patrolling and saw movement. Thought we might be needed."

"We cleared out the little herd and rescued the survivors. One is in need of medical attention, but we'll provide it."

"I wasn't aware there was a military presence in Atlanta anymore."

"We were here a few weeks ago, and no sign of a police presence. None of the survivors we rescued mention any assistance at all before we arrived."

The two officers exchange a look and Licari shrugs. Shepherd sighs. "The officer in charge of what's left of us doesn't exactly like taking people in. Not unless she can obligate them by offering medical care." She shifts her weight and exchanges another look with Licari.

He speaks next. "We don't have the support to change things, but what she's doing is wrong. She's even letting some of the men make rescued women work off their debt in ways that would be illegal if there was still any higher authority."

"And you two are just sitting back and letting it happen?" Her voice has a dangerous note Shane recognizes. So do both officers.

"We've been sheltering them as best we can, but we aren't there all the time. Everyone is too afraid of the bully boys after previous dissenters met with 'accidents' out on runs. Even if we arrange accidents ourselves, we aren't enough to keep the people under our care safe. There's no guarantee the neutrals will back our play." Shepherd seems to be telling the truth.

"So why trust me with this?"

"You're the first organized group we've come across. And when you thought we might be a threat, you protected the rescued at the cost of having a smaller squad face us. That's not the sign of a corrupt leader."

Scout looks over her shoulder, catching his eye. He gives a nod. They'll help the officers, although the extent of that is yet to be seen. He sits up and shoulders the air rifle so he can join her.

"How many civilians are we talking about?" he asks as soon as he's at her side.

"About thirty."

"And officers?"

"Twelve. Three unredeemable, plus the lieutenant. Officers do all the runs and patrols."

"You'll need to train your civilians if you want a chance at long term survival."

"They aren't capable of facing this!" Licari's tone is disbelieving.

Scout laughs. "Glenn, what did you do before?"

"Pizza delivery."

"Karen?"

"Taught third grade."

Scout turns back to the officers. "Not every civilian is capable, but if you're got eight good cops, you're already double the capable adults I started out with. Place in the city is only viable for as long as the canned goods and medical supplies hold out. You're already set up to fail."

"But you'll still help?" Shepherd is near pleading.

Shane nods again when Scout looks his way. "Go radio to tell the others to proceed home. Need to get the man to better medical care than we can give him on the road."

He nods. "Want anyone sent out to join us?"

She thinks it over. "Where are y'all based?"

"Grady Memorial." Shepherd looks like she's seeing a light at the end of the tunnel for the first time in months. He remembers the feeling of his first encounter with Scout well.

"Old hospital, gonna make Emory Midtown look like a kiddie maze," Glenn adds.

"Have Jamie bring out two teams, three if possible."

He heads for a radio as Scout turns to the officers and tells them to start sketching a map for Glenn.

~*~ DD ~*~

Daryl follows Hershel as he leaves the spare RV where they've set up the father and son. The vet's expression is grave as he walks out of hearing range of his patients. Patricia and Glynnis are waiting on the front porch.

"I'm guessing it isn't good news," Patricia says.

"The boy just needs rest, hydration, and good nutrition. His father has tetanus, and if that refrigerated medication from the King County hospital has the immune globulin, we can feasibly treat it with the other meds we already have. But his condition is already close to critical on breathing and we don't have a mechanical ventilator."

"Hospital in Canton looked accessible. Would they have a ventilator on the first floor?" Daryl asks.

"In the ER, sure."

"We'll put together a team then. You'll need a bigger space though." Daryl looks toward the garage, currently still doubling as a medical supply warehouse. "Need to clear out one of the garage bays. Can stick it down in the big barn temporarily. Make the garage the infirmary."

The others nod and the two women hustle off to collect a moving crew. With Scout, Merle, and Shane out, there's no one to plan a run, not really, so he supposes it falls to him.

Worry over the people out to take care of the predator problem in Atlanta sets low in his gut. He should lead the crew to the hospital, but he isn't sure he should leave Abby either, not yet.

"You look like you're thinking hard enough for ten people." He turns to see the female marshal smiling at him.

"Gotta organize a hospital equipment run. Was debating if I should go."

Rachel thinks about it. "I'm guessing Abby's the concern. I think she'll be just fine between her grandmother and your girlfriend."

"Carol's not my girlfriend."

"My apologies. I just assumed since you two seem to spend a lot of your downtime together. She's been keeping Abby occupied when you aren't available, too."

"She's family." He shrugs it off, deciding he'll figure out how he gave off the impression of pursuing Carol later. "You up for a run?"

"Might as well start pulling my weight. I'm sure your not-girlfriend will keep an eye on Nick for me."

"A'right. I'll grab Tyreese and Cricket. Meet me at the big Dodge hooked up to the gooseneck trailer in fifteen minutes?" That'll give him time to explain to Abby and Carol too.

At least the run will give him time to figure out how to ask Carol if she thinks they're a couple, too.

~*~ LG ~*~

Lori is closing the tailgate after the last truckload of supply relocation when she overhears Andrea remark to Amy about the fact that they have two cases of pregnancy tests. She freezes, doing the mental calculation and coming up with a really bad answer.

But before the panic can set in, Andrea keeps talking. "Wonder how long til Lori's needing these and who is she going to claim for the daddy."

"Andrea, if you get any bitchier about Lori, I'm going to think you want Merle for yourself."

"Please. Not even a pretty house would make that man appealing to get naked with. How Lori can go from someone smart as Rick to two different jocks, I'll never know."

"I think you're just being a complete bitch, and I feel sorry for Amy being your sister."

Lori wishes she could see Andrea's face now. The blonde dropped her antagonism in a fake show of support at the quarry over the affair mess, but she knew even then that it wasn't true friendship. She's probably even well aware Lori's in earshot of her unkind words.

But apparently, she didn't realize that they weren't alone at the barn, and now she's been overheard by one of the Dixon kids.

"You shouldn't be talking to an adult like that."

"I was taught to give respect where it is earned and to call a spade a spade."

"About what I'd expect from someone like you."

"Jazz could start kicking puppies and he's still a nicer person than you."

Oh, shit. As bad as it is that she didn't react right away when Jazz spoke up, that's Sophia, and God only knows how many other kids might be present due to puppies in the barn.

She steps into the opening. "Kids, I think it's best if y'all head back to the house."

Jazz normally reminds her more of Daryl in his mannerisms despite looking like Merle, but the belligerent expression he has now is all Merle. He's ready to dig in and fight what he sees as an injustice, even when she's fairly sure the boy dislikes her.

"Jazz, I thank you for speaking up, but this is a battle I want to fight myself. Why don't you take Daryl's truck up to the house with Sophia?"

The teenager finally gives in, but not without a look toward Andrea that promises he won't be forgetting the interaction anytime soon. If looks could kill, Sophia's would send Andrea into an early grave. Amy escapes with them, looking like she's fleeing a bomb threat.

"I may have made my share of mistakes for the next thirty or so years, but there's nothing that gives you the right to talk about me like that."

"You've slept with three different men inside a month!"

"No, I slept with two, and the only people who need to be concerned with that are me, Rick, and Shane. I didn't handle anything at the quarry well, but unlike you, I'm working on redeeming myself."

"You're trying to claim you aren't screwing Merle?"

"Exactly. As long as he's sober, he's a damn good source of what it's like being a single parent. I burned all my bridges being friends with the women we knew at the quarry, so it's nice to speak to someone who understands."

"And that's all it is? Hardly."

"Believe whatever you like, but if you keep dragging his name in the mud, you're going to regret it. Personally, the second he hears about what you said to Jazz, I hope he sticks you in a tent out in the sheep pen. Even Dale won't defend you if you're going after the kids."

"He called me a bitch!"

"No, he said you were acting like one, but the shoe fits. Andrea, if you don't stop being a complete bitch, you're going to end up lonely and ostracized. Even your sister couldn't stand being around just then. Take it from someone who towed that same line really close."

She leaves the blonde sputtering and begins the trek back to the house.

She curls a hand against her belly. She can't worry about what Andrea thinks of her right now.

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane holds his place with his team, knowing his job, just like Merle's and Rick's in their own teams, is to just look as intimidating as possible.

Jamie brought enough people for four four-man teams. It ended up being overkill, because in a stroke of luck, six of the officers were playing a poker game in a staff lounge. Shane simply locked the inattentive morons in by shoving a disassembled IV pole through the door handle.

Once the remaining four realized Shepherd and Licari were siding with the intruders, all but one dropped their weapons and surrendered. The one who refused is zip tied and cursing in the floor after he pissed himself when Tara tased him.

Faced with similar treatment with the taser, the only two armed in the staff lounge also surrendered. So now they have ten officers cuffed or zip tied in the big cafeteria while Scout questions the civilians about the story Shepherd gave her.

His throat radio activates. "Ask which one is Gorman."

He clears his throat. "Which one of these assholes is Gorman?"

Shepherd and Licari both point to the tased asshole. Shane rolls him off his belly with a booted foot to confirm his uniform bears the name.

"Confirmed as the leader of the little group of rapists by everyone I've spoken to," she continues.

"You the leader of the rapists here?" he asks.

"We kept those bitches safe. It's the least they could do for us."

He meets her gaze across the room and she nods. He takes a single shot with his Glock.

Their teams and the officers who led them here are expecting the execution, but the rest aren't. It's a testament to how bad life was in this place that he sees more relief and even joy versus horror when he scans the civilians' faces.

"You confirm the other names?"

"O'Donnell and Alvarado."

"Which one is Alvarado?"

Shepherd points out the kneeling man, who faces him stoically. He offers him the same chance to speak. "You rape those women?"

He sees the resolve in Shane's eyes that death is coming, but he nods and bows his head. A stray moment of conscience at the end, maybe.

Everyone's expecting the shot this time.

"O'Donnell?"

Shepherd's hand shakes this time, and the woman he knows to be the lieutenant actually struggles at her restraints. She doesn't speak. None of them have since surrendering.

"Same question. You rape those women?"

"Yes." Whatever humanity the man possessed before the world ended is long gone. Shane's seen more regret in the face of a death row inmate.

His body hits the floor with a thud and Shane holsters his Glock. This is as much a gruesome ceremony as justice.

The lieutenant is crying as she looks at the blood pooling on the floor. Her officers' expressions range from scared to stoic. The civilians look vindicated.

Scout crosses the room and crouches to the leader's level. "When did you abandon your duty to keep these people safe?"

"You don't know what it's like!"

"Oh, but I do. Except I didn't have the luxury of four walls to keep them safe for several months. And I promise you, there's not a man or woman in my group that would consider rape a right for protecting anyone else in it."

"So easy to say when you've got someone that loyal to do your dirty work for you."

Scout reaches in her vest, bypassing the big knife she carries openly for the karambit she conceals. "Do you know why he's so loyal?"

Lerner's gaze can't seem to leave the wickedly curved knife. "No."

"Because a man in our group tried to murder a woman and child. I don't ask anyone to carry out any order I'm not willing to do myself. I executed that justice myself with this little knife. So today, he offered to administer justice in my place."

"This isn't justice."

"I'm sure your victims will disagree. You're just as guilty as every rapist under your command. You have the command and you failed rather than put a bullet through their heads."

"You think these people are going to be assets to you, be loyal because of this?"

"I don't require them to be loyal to me. I just require them to be good people."

She stands and studies the civilians. "Does anyone object that she's responsible for their crimes?"

Shepherd and Licari look shaken, but don't disagree. None of the other officers speak up, and the civilians still have that eerie calm of a people seeing an end to their suffering in sight.

Scout draws her Glock and fires.

A/N:

If you skipped Shane's second part, Scout and Shane execute the officers guilty of rape at Grady, along with Dawn Lerner.


	20. Inept Matchmaker

**August 7, 2010**

~*~ CP ~*~

"You look exhausted, Hershel. Need some coffee?" Carol asks as she enters the kitchen to start breakfast. She's ahead of her helpers, but that's to be expected since she's about fifteen minutes ahead of schedule this morning.

The veterinarian is sitting at the kitchen table in a bit of a doze, but he straightens and yawns. "No, just enjoying a cup of tea before getting some sleep. I took the night shift and Cricket will cover the day shift in the infirmary with Lilly to help."

"How's our patient?"

"Sedated but stable. He's tolerating the tracheotomy and ventilator and we were able to debride the infected tissue, so we just have to hope he responds to the antibiotics and the immune globulin before he develops pneumonia or nutrition issues. I don't want to attempt a gastric feeding tube, and it's still nothing short of a miracle that Rick survived without one for so long. He's lucky to be treated by a veterinarian."

"Why's that?" Carol is rolling out biscuit dough with practiced ease. She likes the easy rhythm of working with dough.

"It's virtually eradicated for humans, a few handful of cases a year usually in adults who didn't get a tetanus booster. Horses are as susceptible to tetanus as humans, so I've treated a few cases in my career."

"How did those turn out?"

He sighs, emptying his cup. "It's considered a 50-75% fatality rate in equines, which is why horses are supposed to be vaccinated."

"I remember Cricket gave T-Dog a booster shot at the quarry. Maybe we need a vaccine clinic just in case for everyone?"

"That would be a really good idea. Probably a general health review. Dale needs to be monitored for his cholesterol, and no telling how many of the ladies need birth control assessed since the stock for that may last longer than the condom supply. I'm not feeling up to becoming a midwife at my age."

Carol pauses with her biscuits, turning to look at him. "Would that be really complicated to train for? Because I'm guessing it's a matter of time before we either rescue a pregnant woman or end up with one."

He studies her thoughtfully. "That something that interests you?"

"I did a year in an LPN program before I had to drop out to take care of my mother. I don't know that I want to be a full-time nurse like Lilly or Felipe, but it couldn't hurt to learn, right?"

"I would encourage you to do so, especially since you aren't starting from scratch. And there are enough animals here that I could get you some veterinary birth experience, although those are usually nothing but observation. Lilly and Felipe would have both had maternity rotations, and I'll just about bet all of our law enforcement types went through an emergency course. So, you have a lot of sources to learn from."

Carol smiles, imagining asking Daryl to walk her through what he learned. "I'll put it on my to-do list."

"Something tells me your to-do list is longer than my own, most days." He brings the mug to the sink and washes it before sitting it in the drain rack. "I'm going to get some sleep. If I'm not up by lunch, make sure someone wakes me. Sooner if our patient takes a turn for the worse."

She nods, sliding the first trays of biscuits in the oven as he heads for the stairs.

"Knock, knock," Jacqui calls out as she closes the front door behind her. "We doing hash browns this morning?"

"Yeah. Lenore and Arthur say it was a spectacular yield this year and they'll only store about six, maybe eight, months. If you want to start chopping peppers, I'll put the boys on shredding the potatoes." Since today's breakfast crew is the trio of boys housed downstairs, Carol goes over and buzzes the intercom just as a reminder. At least one of them isn't down there, though, because she can see Jazz down by the chicken pen with a basket, Abby at his heels. She wonders if the little girl woke him to go feed the chickens and gather eggs, which is technically not his chore today, but she doesn't see Beth objecting. She makes the change on the chore roster so that Jazz gets the work credit in Patricia's system. It would be too easy for him to be taken advantage of, since he likes to keep busy.

"We getting some of your sausage gravy with those biscuits?"

"Of course. I'm not yet brave enough to try the canned sausage all on its own, are you?"

"Nope." Jacqui grins. "But it smells better than squirrel, so maybe we should."

Jimmy and Carl appear, both looking half asleep, but they know the procedure well enough by now to take a seat and start shredding the potatoes, which gives Carol time to check the supply of milk in the fridge and relax with a cup of coffee since Jacqui will handle the hash browns. She's glad the Dixon kitchen is so spacious, because she can't imagine cooking for more than fifty people in her cramped kitchen back home. At least the nursing home has its own kitchen, since they'd deemed it smarter to leave the old daycare's kitchen in place to handle the special menus of the residents rather than transport from the main house.

She shuffles for another cup of coffee when she sees Daryl coming down the stairs, dressed in what she recognizes as his hunting gear for the first time since they left the quarry. "Getting restless working the building crew, Pookie?"

He drinks half the cup of coffee before replying. "Nah. But the farm crew is having a rabbit problem, so I'm going to take some of the kids down there. You good with Sophia going? Gonna take Abby and Ryan's girls since their chores can be rotated to later. Jimmy and Jazz too, since they'll be free."

Carol knows that means that Sophia will be outside the extremely secure part of the Homestead onto the Eldridge property, but there's game cams at all the weak points that would have alerted the watch detail here if anything crossed over, so she nods. Sophia specifically asked to be able to learn skills like this. She sees Carl looking disappointed to not be included - again - and nudges Daryl toward the boy.

He studies him for a minute. "When your mama comes for breakfast, you ask her if you can go. She might be waiting to talk to your dad about you learning to shoot, but doesn't mean you can pick up a few skills before that."

The boy's grin could light up the room.

Daryl finishes his coffee, and like Hershel, washes his mug. "Gonna go make sure we got day packs ready."

He's standoffish this morning, Carol notes as he leaves. Normally, he doesn't take such care to stay out of her personal space. Part of her wonders if she's done something wrong, but he was flustered last night about something. It's easier to wait and let him percolate through whatever's concerning him, so she files it away for later.

Jacqui spreads peppers into the five waiting cast iron pans. "Every time I come in here to cook, I'm glad of whoever convinced that man to splurge on this induction cooktop." Carol laughs, because the five burners really do make work go faster. Even so, Jacqui will end up doing at least three more pans of hash browns while Carol does the gravy. The other woman pitches her voice lower than the boys' conversation at the table. "Something up with you and 'Pookie'? He wasn't near as chatty with you as he normally is."

"I'm not sure. Something's bothering him, but I'm not going to pry. He was fine yesterday morning, but not after the hospital run, so maybe he's just worried about the folks in Atlanta."

"Possible." Jacqui quiets for long enough to take the two bowls of shredded potatoes from Carl and return them empty so the boys can continue. "Ignoring all the gossip going on, I do want to ask, as your friend and not just to be nosy... you interested in him? He's a decent man, after Ed. Wouldn't blame you if you snatched him right up, especially the way he looks after Sophia and that precious girl of his."

It's only the boys in the room that keeps Carol's voice low like Jacqui's. "Daryl? No." She hesitates, because it's gossip at its purest, but she trusts Jacqui. "I'm not entirely sure he even likes women."

That gets her a startled look from Jacqui. "Man was married for a number of years, but wouldn't be the first time, especially in Georgia. You sure about that?"

Carol feels like squirming as she shares her observation. "Well, I can't say he likes men either, but you know how even happily married men's eyes will track a pretty woman? It's not that they're gonna stray, but they still look."

Jacqui nods, flipping the potatoes and waiting for Carol to continue.

"I've never seen him even glance toward a woman. Like when we were down at the pond and most everyone was swimming the other evening, he never even took so much as a peek."

"Huh." Before Carol can hope the subject's dropped, the other woman continues. "But if you knew he'd return the interest? You've said a lot about him, but nothing about you."

"No, not Daryl."

Jacqui nearly drops the spatula when she laughs. She waits until the boys dismiss it as something silly the women are up to. "So, Merle's your cup of tea, then?"

Carol wonders what possessed her to answer in a way that triggered Jacqui's guess. But in the interest of keeping her vow to be less mousy, she nods, busying herself with opening the cans of sausage so Jacqui can't see the flush heating up her fair skin.

"Oh, honey, don't be embarrassed. Ain't nothing wrong with taking interest in the man. I guess the big question is, are you going to do something about it?" But when Carol can't manage an answer, she doesn't press further.

That is the question, isn't it?

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane's thinking if he keeps driving Greyhounds across parts of Georgia, he's going to think he missed out on his true career. He's still only half onboard with taking on the Grady residents, but he understands why in the end everyone voted to allow it when Merle summoned a radio meeting to include Hershel, Tyreese, Patricia, and Glynnis in the preliminary idea he discussed with Scout and Shane. Merle even put the Grady civilians to an anonymous paper vote on the inclusion of the semi-disgraced officers. Taking the civilians along when they petitioned was a foregone conclusion. Surprisingly, there were no dissenting votes on allowing the officers to join from their former wards.

So now he's driving another bus loaded with dependent folks toward a Homestead that hasn't caught up with the last influx yet. At least even with his misgivings about the situation, he likes the idea of more hands for the manual labor needed. Merle's plan of bringing in cargo containers to reinforce the fence line was backburnered in favor of housing, but with the addition of four more people capable of driving bigger vehicles from the Grady group, that's more viable earlier on now. Merle's been mingling among the passengers, taking down information in his notebook as he visits with each person.

The man comes up and props against the guard, swapping easily to Spanish when he speaks to Shane. He's guessing that means that none of the passengers are bilingual, or at least none close enough to overhear. "You still uneasy about the cops?"

"No one seems scared of them, but it's just the thought that they were too weak to get rid of the filth among them. I try to remind myself that I allowed Ed to stay, but he was smart enough not to cross any lines I could call him on before you put the fear of dying in him."

"If I didn't think they'd suffocate, I'd consider making them all sleep in the equipment barn where we could lock them in at night," Merle offers. "But honestly, I think we've probably got eight of the most strait-laced officers on the planet in those back seats now. You and Scout really put the fear of God into them with how you took out the bad apples." He scratches at his jawline, where he's getting scruffy around his goatee. "You doing okay about that? It was a lot to ask of you."

He takes his eyes off the truck ahead of him long enough to look at Merle. All he sees is genuine concern. "Can't say I'm gonna stand beside her if she's the only one with blood on her hands when it's necessary. Or let you do it to spare me."

Merle shifts and Shane realizes the man's smiling at him. Less than a month ago, that smile would worry him about just what the man was about to do, but now he just enjoys realizing Scout's father approves of him. It's a bit of a weird feeling for someone who never met a woman's parents once he graduated high school. There's not enough of an age difference between them to have a fatherly vibe off the man, but to know he fits into the Dixons still feels good.

They can figure out how they're going to house nearly forty more people when they get there. He can handle going from sole leader of a scrabble camp of less than twenty to a co-leader among a community of 150 as long as he's not alone in it.

~*~ MD ~*~

"Since when did we put a bus stop out here?" Shane says with a laugh.

Merle stands from his seat in the front row and laughs himself. Four little girls are standing at the end of one of the Eldridge access roads, looking expectantly at the approaching bus. They aren't alone, but Daryl and the boys are further back and only glance at the bus as it comes to a halt.

He steps to the door and eyes the girls. "You kids got bus fare?"

They all present a string of rabbits with big grins, and that's when he realizes the boys and Daryl were inattentive because they're behind the joke. All four are laughing like loons.

"Alright, you little imps, find a seat." He turns sideways to let them all tramp by. Abby sits carefully at the window in the empty first row, but the other three are bolder. Mika and Lizzie sit in the empty row behind Abby that puts them in front of a pair of women who can't seem to decide how to react to girls carrying air rifles and dead bunnies. Sophia leans against the back edge of Shane's seat and studies the passengers in open curiosity.

"You keeping the boys?" he calls out to Daryl.

His brother salutes him and heads deeper into the fields with his trio of followers.

Shane closes the doors and gets back underway, still chuckling about the girls' bus fare offer.

"Looks like you kids rained terror on the rabbit population," he says to Sophia.

"Yep. We defended the veggies. Uncle Daryl and the boys are going to join the farm crew in putting out netting."

Merle studies their audience for a minute. "As you can see, everyone contributes, and anyone can learn to shoot. Mika, how old are you?"

"I turned ten in June."

"How many of the rabbits are yours?"

"Two. Sophia got the most, four. We got nine total."

Merle uses it to further his example. "Now hunting is never a guarantee and they took advantage of the lure of bean seedlings as bunny catnip, but nine rabbits are the equivalent of nine whole chickens. They'd feed almost thirty of you roasted and all of you as a stew."

"How big is this farm?" one of the older ones, Percy, asks.

"Forty acres. It was already running as a produce provider for restaurants serving locally grown, so they just kept on going. What you're seeing now is what's been planted for fall harvest. Spring crops are already harvested and put away."

"We haven't had fresh fruit or vegetables in months," the doctor says.

"We didn't either," Mika says, turning around in her seat. Either by instinct or natural gregariousness, she's helping him make his case. "My family lived in Jacksonville before. We came all the way up from Florida with Scout. So, we were real happy to get here."

He doesn't have to consult his notes to remember which of the Grady folk were safe in the hospital the longest. They're the ones that look the most shocked that a ten-year-old is this far from Florida and still alive. Then again, maybe the officers look the most impressed. He's not entirely sure they believed him and Scout about surviving on the road.

They pass through the gates onto his part of the property and Shane slows to a stop.

"Sophia, go close the gate," he instructs.

"Sure, Dad. Y'all gonna wait or should I jog up?"

"We'll wait." While she's out at the gate, he continues. "It might not be a big hospital, but the property is secure. Y'all bear with us for a week and pretend it's a camping trip and we'll get better caught up with living quarters."

Sophia hops back onto the steps so Shane can deliver their passengers a little closer to the RV park they're developing. She loops an arm around his waist, careful to keep her string of rabbits away from being squished. He returns the impromptu hug with a smile.

"Oh, looks like they're gearing up to go right back out," Sophia says.

Merle twists to look as Shane nears the RVs to see she's right. They've got Merle's work truck, both of the modified pickups, and Merle's SUV all lined up and doing a gear check.

"Guess we'll find out when we get stopped."

Shane maneuvers the bus so he's not blocking the driveway. The deputy's not even to his feet when Honey trots up and yells, "shake the lead out, che'lu, we got RVs to fetch."

The summoned man just laughs. "Guess I'll be leaving you to be tour guide," he says, flashing a grin as he thumps down the steps in pursuit of Merle's youngest.

"Think she'll bring back another semi instead?" Sophia asks.

"Knowing your sister, she'll manage to find and capture an escaped zoo animal."

"Oooh. I vote for a lion. C'mon, girls, we got rabbits to prep and we can go spoil Livia with all the hearts and livers."

Merle lets the girls exit before turning back to his passengers, seeing Cricket crossing to the bus. "Looks like they're gonna see about keeping y'all out of tents tonight, so we'll sort out who goes where when we have a better bed count. Dr. Edwards, you feeling up to a consultation on our fellow with tetanus?"

"I've never treated a case, but I'm happy to assist."

"Looks like your escort just arrived."

Cricket comes up the steps and gives folks a cheery smile. "Hey, Daddy, I see we have a few extras for supper. Gonna end up an outdoor picnic with this many. I'm Cricket, med student at Emory before. I know you've got a doctor with you, but if anyone feels more comfortable with a woman for medical, you can come to me or our nurse, Lilly."

Merle is rather proud of her polite hedging of an offer to abused women that might not want to rely on a male for their medical needs. He introduces Dr. Edwards and the man follows her with only one or two uncertain glances back.

"Percy, you and Natha have a choice staying with your compatriots or taking a bed in our little retirement community. You both said you didn't have any major health needs, but we've got a nurse living in house there."

"How many medical people do you have?". Shepherd speaks for the first time outside of answering his basic questions about background and skills. He thinks she still hasn't completely come to terms with what she set in motion. It's gotta be hard to see your fellow officers go down even if they're corrupt.

"Five right now, six in a pinch. Two RNs, the med student you just met, a paramedic, and a veterinarian who's a pretty good people doctor when he puts his mind to it. Sixth is one of the Marines got three years finished on a kinesiology degree. Anyone who wants to put in for some training, from basic CPR to actual nursing is welcome to sign up with Patricia for it."

"Patricia is one of the leaders?"

He nods. "Otherwise known as Drill Sergeant Patricia. She's quartermaster and keeps us organized so our ducks stay in a row instead of all over Georgia. She's the blonde lady with the notebook headed this way, probably with at least four plans to keep things interesting."

"I see you're telling tales about me, Mister Dixon," the blonde says as she joins him.

"Only good ones, I promise. I'll leave these newest recruits in your capable hands."

"Shoo, shoo. Go see Carol and let her see you're in one piece. I swear that woman spent most of the night fretting over you and Honey being gone overnight."

Merle's boots have hit the ground before he really registers what she said, and he frowns up at her. Surely, level headed Patricia isn't joining the matchmaking hints Sophia started. When the damn woman just smirks at him, he sighs and continues on his way.

~*~ CP ~*~

Daryl rubs at his full belly before taking a seat beside Carol in the swing of the back deck. "I know you don't want to end up a full time cook, but I kinda hope you keep a supper shift once a week when you move on to greater things."

She laughs and pats his arm, glad to see he seems more settled around her now. Whatever was bothering him must have worked out over the day spent on the farm side of things.

They sway on the swing in comfortable quiet for a while before he shifts his weight, picking at the seam of his cargo pants.

"What's on your mind, Pookie?"

He glances at her through bangs that are starting to get in his eyes. "One of the marshals thought we were a couple."

"Oh. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" It's not that she wants him interested in her, but she's hoping it isn't a horrifying thought at least.

"Only a bad thing because it would feel like dating my sister." It's accompanied by a shy smile.

She smiles, relieved it's something innocent disturbing him about the couple assumption. "You like me that much?"

"Just about."

"The feeling's mutual. I always wanted a baby brother growing up, but got stuck as an only child. Guess it's better this way. No diapers to change."

Daryl half-chokes at the teasing. "Jesus, woman."

She shrugs, leaning back in the swing, and bumping shoulders with him.

"Could be officially my sister." There's a quality to his voice that alerts her he's up to something.

"Bit late for adoption."

"Not that way."

She sighs. "Daryl, your brother has a lot of choices if he decides he doesn't want to be single. I don't think he'll settle for me."

"Dammit, Carol, it wouldn't be settling. He'd be damned lucky if you even looked his way. But he's not going to make the first move."

"Then how are you sure he's even considering me at all then?" She wants it to be true, but can't set hope for it.

"I can't explain it. Just a feeling. Do me a favor?"

She nods.

"Go talk to him tonight. You'll see what I mean. If he's got your permission, you'll find out."

"Alright." She supposes the worst thing that can happen is that she can settle the issue. "But Daryl, as a matchmaker, you suck."

He laughs, looking relieved.

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle comes to a halt when he sees Carol perched in his office chair, but shuts the door behind him when she motions for it.

"Everything okay?"

"Yes. Just needed to clear something up."

He takes a seat on the futon so he can see her face. "That doesn't sound like everything is okay."

She sighs. "Daryl thinks you're interested in me."

Ah, hell. Even staying out of it, he's managed to muck things up. "Carol, if you and Daryl want to be together, I'm all for it."

"Daryl thinks of me as his sister, and honestly, it was a relief to hear because I feel the same way."

"And that led to him trying to fix you up with me?" He feels a little thrill that he's misjudged his brother's interest.

"I told him you had too many choices to settle for me."

He reaches out to take both her hands. She gazes at him with that uncertainty he hates seeing in her, so he takes the plunge. "Carol, I wouldn't be settling if you wanted me. But I don't want you to be rushed into anything."

She smiles, squeezing his hands before releasing them. "Maybe I want to rush and take a risk for once."

Before he formulates a reply, she's out of the chair and into his lap. He isn't expecting the bold move, so she's cupping his face and kissing him hesitantly before he can react.

But his shock throws a wrench in the works because she pulls away. "I'm sorry."

He manages to catch her before she's out of his lap. "Stay."

She nods, blinking away the start of tears, and he kisses her, leading her past her initial hesitance until the kiss feels like they've been doing it for years.

But they need to breathe eventually.

"This goes at your pace," he says softly.

"And if I wanted it all tonight?"

He groans at the temptation. He's years past the urgency of youth, but he's also two years celibate. It's an offer he really wants to accept, and not just for tonight, but he'll never pressure her into that commitment.

Rather than let any hesitation make her believe his interest isn't genuine, he smiles and strokes his hands down her arms. "Then you lead where you want me to follow."

She leads them both to almost full nudity over the next half hour and he's happy to follow except for one little detail. "Carol, darlin', hold up a minute."

Carol makes a sound of protest where he's caught her wrist before she can rid him of his last bit of clothing.

"Don't have any condoms around."

Once she realizes he's not stopping her progress permanently, she smiles. "We're good." She extends her arm to show the small bump of a birth control implant.

So, he releases her wrist and enjoys where she leads.

Much later, he's half asleep when he feels her sitting up. "Where ya goin'?"

"I wasn't sure..."

"Lay back down." He realizes it sounds a little rough and smooths a hand down her bare back. "If you don't want to stay, you don't have to. But I prefer to wake up beside you."

She settles back beside him, but seems uncertain about how to do it. He tugs her over to use him as a pillow, kissing her on the top of her head.

"Fit just like we were made for it." He settles a hand at her hip.

She surprises him with a gentle kiss along the thick scar on his collarbone before settling to sleep. His scars aren't pretty, and they're one of the reasons he's fallen more and more into celibacy as he grows older. Explaining them for a momentary partner just isn't worth it.

But she's already aware that Will Dixon was a monster, and he's hoping that this path they're taking means never explaining them again.


	21. Kumaire

**August 8, 2010**

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol wakes to the very unfamiliar experience of being draped against Merle's naked form. He's on his stomach, having shifted in the night, but she's managed to end up with a leg over the back of his, her foot tucked between his calves. When she lifts her arm from across his back to check the time on her watch, he stirs until she runs her hand along his spine. She marvels that the touch soothes him back into sleep. With the ruin of his back from the long-ago acquired scars, she would have thought someone touching his back while he is sleeping and vulnerable would disturb him.

She hasn't even really seen the majority of the damage, since he was on his back for almost all of her explorations and teasing last night. She got the feeling he had been trying not to box her in so it would be easier for her to call a halt if she changed her mind. Taking charge of sex was a novelty for certain. It had been good the first few years with Ed, but even then, he had to be the one directing everything. Then it went bad for several, leaving her grateful and relieved when he lost interest four years ago around the time he got a new secretary at work. Most wives might be upset about the affair, but she ended up just happy the other woman was stupid enough to trade blowjobs for job security.

"You should get more sleep," Merle mumbles into the pillow. "Even the birdies aren't awake yet."

Crap. Apparently, she did wake him. "Sorry. I'm not used to..."

He raises up and taps the lamp by the futon, rolling enough to jostle her leg off his. His expression is concerned, and it digs hooks even deeper into her heart. "You okay? Not regretting last night?"

"No." She smiles to reassure him. "It's just been a long time since I slept with anyone."

"Literally sleep or..."

"Both actually. Sharing a tent at the quarry was the first time I slept in something resembling the same room as Ed in about six years."

"And the other?"

"He got a big breasted blonde secretary too stupid to work a computer four years ago and decided he wasn't interested in a wife on the wrong side of thirty anymore except to have a maid and housekeeper." And someone to slap around when he was drunk or something went wrong at work, but she doesn't really want to think about that, not here next to a man she knows would never lay a finger on her.

"Knew the man was stupid. Now I'm thinking he was blind too." He's gentle in the touch as he runs a hand from her hip to her ribs, stopping his hand with his thumb just under her left breast. She's not sure he intends it to be erotic, but it is.

"Merle, I am over thirty and I'm not pretty like Maggie or..." She touches a hand involuntarily to her short cropped grey hair as she speaks, but she doesn't get to finish expressing the insecurity, because he silences her with the easiness of a kiss.

Just when she's starting to understand the term kissed senseless, he pulls away. She thinks how most would call Merle rugged or handsome, but up close like this, with that gentle expression, she thinks beautiful might fit.

"Darlin', those things you're thinking about yourself? They could apply to me more than you. I'm on the downhill slide to fifty with four grown children and two teenagers. Probably just dumb luck I'm not a grandfather by now. And the only thing I'd change about your hair is if _you_ wanted to grow it out just a little." He gives her a mischievous grin. "If you didn't pay close attention, even my chest hair's going grey, and honestly I wish that was all."

She giggles and reaches up to run her fingers through the offending chest hair. There's another of those tugs at her heart with the easy inclusion of Sophia in counting his children. "I don't know. That might be more blond than grey."

"Well, if you want to pander to my poor ego, I'll take your word for it."

She's the one to start the kiss this time, and she uses his shoulders as leverage to wiggle close. He gets the idea pretty quickly when she slides her hand down to explore the other area of complaint about grey and starts to roll her atop him like he did last night.

She pulls away. "No. Your lead this time." She both needs and wants to know what it's like to have all the sheer power of him, that she's not broken and fragile.

"You sure, darlin'?"

And she knows he wants it, because his entire body is poised and waiting, but if she says no, even put a halt to sex entirely despite the unmistakable evidence she's garnered his full interest, then he'll stop.

That just makes her want it more. She smiles and presses her lips to his throat. "Please."

Reassured, that's all it takes for her to be flipped under him, his caresses nowhere near as restrained as last night as he explores and kisses every inch of bare skin.

She'll figure out how to deal with beard burn on her thighs later.

~*~ GR ~*~

Glenn glances at Maggie as she giggles and points toward the kitchen, where if someone else doesn't appear soon, breakfast may end up delayed since Merle is distracting their biscuit maker.

"When did that happen?" he asks. Maggie's still sharing a room with Carol and Patricia.

"Last night. She never came to bed, and let's just say the office wasn't designed to be soundproof from the master bedroom either."

"Oh God. Don't tell Carol that."

"Of course not. It would embarrass the hell outta her, and she definitely deserves what I heard last night and again this morning." The brunette grins at him.

"Who deserves what, and are you two lovebirds sneaking in from wherever or out to wherever?" Jacqui asks as she crosses the deck toward them.

"Take a peek." Maggie indicates the kitchen and Glenn looks too. It's sweet, because Merle's actually standing behind Carol and helping her knead the biscuit dough now, instead of luring her away from it with kisses to the back of her neck.

"Hot damn. Not sure I want to interrupt them. Wonder who finally got around to making the first move," Jacqui says. "Was starting to think we were going to have months of will-they-won't-they like a TV drama."

"You didn't think he was gonna shack up with Lori?" Glenn asks. He's made himself scarce when that branch of gossip starts up, but he's still aware of it.

"Despite Andrea seeming to think Lori's a professional bed hopper, anyone can see the woman's gun shy of men at the moment. Think she spent so much time with Merle just because he was safe company."

Maggie seems to be thinking it over, and she eventually nods, accepting the assessment, so Glenn will take their word for it. He's still rather happy he correctly gauged Maggie's interest in him, so he's not really going to worry about figuring everyone else out.

"Might be time for everyone from the quarry to give the woman a break," Jacqui continues.

Glenn grimaces. He doesn't really dislike Lori, but even on her happier days he hadn't wanted to spend time around her, because she tends to treat him as if he's still a teenager. But Jacqui's right that Lori's isolated herself other than while actively doing chores. She's even loosened the reins on Carl, so long as he stays with the various groups of kids and teenagers in work or lessons. He doesn't think she's reached out to any of the non-quarry women either, probably since most of them aside from the locals that kept up the Homestead know about her behavior at the quarry.

"I'll volunteer you for that," he tells Jacqui. "Not because I think she shouldn't have friends, but I'm just not real sure I can manage enough in common for a two-minute conversation."

Maggie shrugs. "I'm up for it. Might as well follow Merle's lead, as long as she's trying to improve and do better."

"We'll catch her at breakfast then." Jacqui looks back toward the kitchen. "Well, we're about to get invaded by the egg gathering kiddos, so I'll go tease the lovebirds a bit as a warning of the incoming small fry."

Glenn doesn't hear whatever joke the woman makes when she steps through the French doors into the kitchen, but it makes Merle laugh and Carol blush, but Carol's smiling, so it's all good.

Maggie surprises him with a kiss.

"What was that for?"

"I just liked how happy you looked for our friends being happy."

She flounces toward the kitchen herself, leaving him standing there grinning and realizing that neither of them answered Jacqui's question about why they were outside so early. They really need to get some of the housing situation settled, because these hidden make out sessions in little niches are driving him crazy.

~*~ LG ~*~

Lori is starting to think someone's a mind reader here, because she hasn't worked up the courage to commandeer a pregnancy test yet, and then at breakfast the announcement went around that everyone is due a physical over the next few days. Even better, her name is among the first group to report in to Cricket at the med unit, which is now designated for women's health care. Of all the medical professionals now available, the med student is probably the one she's most comfortable with discussing her suspicions.

She steps into the med unit as soon as the woman before her, Lenore, from the farm crew, steps out. The redhead smiles as they pass, and she hopes her attempt at a return smile actually looks genuine, because her nerves are killing her.

"Hey!" Cricket smiles in welcome. "Latch the door behind you. Might as well act like it's a real doctor's office."

Lori flips the lock and ventures further in. Cricket's doing a wipe down of the exam seat with a disinfectant wipe, so she isn't sure what to do just yet. The room they put extra med supplies in for transport is cleared out now, but she thinks it's now an expansion of the lab based on what little she can see and understand from here.

"Guess we start with the basics. We'll do as full a physical as needed. We debated some of the tests that we really can't do any treatment for if they're positive, but we're hoping there aren't any serious objections because knowing's better than not in our limited treatment environment." She tosses the used wipes and grabs one of the ever-present composition notebooks from a stack and scribbles Lori's name on it with a sharpie before trading the marker for a pen.

"Did y'all empty a warehouse of those?" she asks, feeling amusement push away some of her nerves.

Cricket laughs. "Guess I could have asked if you had a preference between plain black, colored, or designer, huh?" She shows Lori a printed checklist taped inside. We'll go over everything and get you sorted. Going to draw blood, update your tetanus vaccine, and depending on your last pap smear, that's today too. Plus, if you aren't on birth control, we can get that started after you pee in a cup for me."

"Well, that would be the problem," Lori begins, and the other woman's expression turns concerned. "I think we might want to start with the pregnancy test."

"Oh. Well, that definitely might change our routine a bit." But she shows no signs of judgement, just reaches for the specimen cup on the little counter and presents it to Lori. "Since I'll need to test a few things, we'll opt for this rather than you aiming for a stick." As Lori heads for the tiny bathroom, she calls out. "You want anyone here for this?"

Lori considers and shakes her head. If it's a false alarm, she honestly prefers she and Cricket are the only ones to know it was a possibility. When she returns with the cup, Cricket opens a test box and offers her the stick. "Want to do the honors? I understand it's a bit of a rite of passage."

She takes the test stick from the younger woman and follows instructions, leaving it capped on the counter while Cricket reseals the specimen cup for whatever other tests she has to run. "I've used this brand before. Three minutes is too long sometimes."

Cricket pats her shoulder in reassurance and directs her toward the exam seat. "How about I distract you with any number of invasive health questions that make my job fun? I'll even throw in some blood draws to make it really fun."

Despite her worries, the cheerful joke makes her laugh, and the blood work and basic health history does provide enough of a distraction that she is almost surprised with the timer on Cricket's watch beeps. Cricket puts the vials of blood on a tray on the counter and palms the test without looking at it, handing it to Lori to read first.

The stick displays two very bold, dark pink lines, and her distress must be visible, because there's a hand in hers, and kind blue eyes looking at her when she finally looks up. Cricket tips the test to look and taps her finger next to the lines. "This is a blessing."

"I want it to be." She can't stop the tears that start now. She hoped for another baby after Carl but there was nothing for so many years she wondered if she or Rick should have gone to Atlanta for testing. He'd refused to think about infertility as a possibility, not with the easy and accidental conception of Carl, and she hadn't been brave enough to go alone.

"Then we'll make it so." Cricket exchanges the test for tissues and goes to tug the ultrasound machine out of the exam-turned-lab room. "This might not work since I just unwisely had you empty your bladder, but we'll give it a try. If nothing else, we'll pick up a heartbeat if you're far enough along."

"I don't know for sure on that. My last period was in May, but they were erratic before that. It isn't unusual for me to miss a month here and there."

"And were you on any birth control?"

"No, not in years. I always wanted another baby, but it just didn't happen." She fidgets as Cricket sets the machine up. "Based on that, it's doubtful the baby's Rick's." Ten years without a bit of birth control and nothing, but six weeks with Shane and now this, when she's single and mostly happy about it. Single mom to Carl is one thing, but to an infant, it's daunting.

"Well, we're in luck about the empty bladder, if you don't mind an internal ultrasound."

Lori shrugs and takes the hospital gown she's offered and treks back to the bathroom. Cricket's sliding a DVD into the ultrasound machine. She offers Lori another reassuring smile. "I'm going to record it so if there's anything I need an opinion from one of the fully qualified doctors on, you don't have to do it all over again."

She thinks of the fact that if she's right about the paternity, Shane's missing out on the first ultrasound. There are plenty of functional TVs around, after all. "Can I get a copy?"

"Sure. Might have to take it up to the house to burn it for you, but it's doable. There's paper, so we'll get some printouts too."

The exam proceeds much as both of the ones she had with Carl, and she misses having someone to hold her hand with Cricket busy with the machine.

"Ah ha." With the flick of a switch, the rapid thump of a fetal heartbeat fills the med unit and Lori starts to cry in earnest. It's relief, happiness, stress, all rolled into one, but there's a heartbeat.

"Best thing ever to hear, I bet," Cricket says softly. She's not looking at Lori, but rather the screen, her expression a little wistful. It reminds Lori that Cricket's chosen partner is a woman. This isn't a world with IVF anymore. But the younger woman shakes off the melancholy and gives Lori a smile. "Let's take a look now."

The baby's head is clearly defined on the screen, and she can make out little arms and legs where the baby's facing the ultrasound. Cricket's busy taking measurements and printing off a couple of ultrasounds she knows will probably be kept for the medical record with the measurements on screen, but Lori can't take her eyes off the precious little miracle before her in black and white.

"Baby measure at nine weeks. That sound right? First of June?"

Lori nods. It also completely eliminates any possibility the baby is Rick's. Cricket's aware of this, and she reaches out with the hand she's been tapping buttons and switches with to take Lori's and squeeze gently. "This is a _good_ thing, Lori. Let's finish this up so we can talk."

She finishes taking the keepsake stills with easy efficiency and follows the end of the ultrasound with the physical part of the pregnancy exam before sending Lori off to redress while she makes notes. Lori leans against the inside of the tiny bathroom cubicle, letting fear and joy war with her before finally going out to face the decisions she's got to make now.

"I don't have any prenatal vitamins down here, which is probably an oversight, but I'll get you some out of the med lockup when we go copy the DVD. Your pregnancy with Carl was normal, except for the c-section delivery, and you're healthy and in good shape. Unless something turns up on the lab work unexpectedly, we'll treat it like any other pregnancy before. You just have a shorter trip to the doctor's office. We'll even try for a VBAC if we can, but I think we'll be able to safely do a c-section if we absolutely have to." She scoots to where Lori's sat in one of the waiting chairs instead of on the exam table, and takes both of Lori's hands in hers. "I can keep following the pregnancy and consult with those who've done it before, or you can have Hershel or Edwards oversee it. Personally, I'd opt for the vet for the better bedside manner."

Lori shakes her head. "If it's not weird for you, I'd rather you do it."

"Why would it be weird for me? Because of Shane and my sister?"

She nods and Cricket sighs. "Unless you're about to go on some hormone rampage through the place and carry Shane off to a dark lair somewhere, we're good on that."

Despite herself, Lori laughs at that image. She's more than a bit terrified of going through a pregnancy alone, but she isn't going to mess with Shane's happiness in that respect. "I can't see this being good news for everyone."

"Honest opinion? If you go to Shane and have an open conversation about the baby, I think it'll be fine. If you're really feeling brave, tackle Scout at the same time and then you get to only have the conversation once."

Considering how she's behaved around the woman, she isn't sure that showing up on the cabin's doorstep with this news will be welcomed. Her doubt must show on her face because Cricket lets her hands go and reaches for the printed images in her lab coat pocket. She hands them over, two of each one. "Take these. You show up with these, and promise you won't keep that baby from Shane in any way and that Scout can spoil it rotten, and there won't be a person more devoted to the baby's future and your health and comfort in the entire state of Georgia than my sister."

Lori looks at the best image, the tiny arms and legs so visible. "Why would she go that far?"

"Because Scout can't have children at all."

Oh, God. Lori can't imagine. Even in all the years of failing to conceive again, she at least had Carl. She wonders if it's due to the same explosion that caused all the Marine's burn injuries, but doesn't ask. It doesn't matter how, just that she can't.

"This won't make her feel worse?" It's a little bit of a foreign feeling, having concern for Scout's feelings, but Merle was kind to her when she absolutely didn't deserve it. She owes it to his faith in her, if not for Scout and Shane's sake, to not ruin Merle's daughter's happiness.

"No. They may not exchange all the flowery words and sentiments around others that some couples might, but Scout loves Shane and she'll love the baby, too."

The intercom buzzes and Cricket scoots over to answer what turns out to be a call asking if she wants lunch brought to her or if she's joining the rest. She tells them she'll be up in a bit and to save her a plate. "How about we take the DVD up to my apartment and get you a copy before we show our faces for whatever deliciousness Patricia's magicked up for us today? You can hide out up there if you like for a while."

She nods agreement and Cricket tidies up the med unit before locking first the lab door and then the med unit behind her. The keys go back around her neck and she smiles. "We're trying to keep what privacy we can, even if HIPAA law is defunct. I'll share with Hershel and Edwards as needed, but until you tell me otherwise, your news is yours to share, at least for now. Even the nurses won't go through the records unless asked to. I'll have to share pregnancies with the planning council eventually, because you'll need priority on private housing versus whatever barracks plan they were cooking up last night for the unmarried adults."

Lori follows her to the exterior stairs that lead up to the apartment over the garage. "You can go ahead and tell the council if you need to, as long as they know it may take me a few hours to break the news to Shane." She stops short just inside the door. "God. I need to tell Rick and Carl too. Nine weeks is safe enough to tell him, right?"

"All signs point to a healthy pregnancy, so I'd say yes on telling Carl. It's better he hears from you and not through the rumor mill, especially considering the paternity." Cricket has the DVD in her laptop already.

All Lori can think about that is "no fucking kidding" because the last thing she wants is her son finding out via Andrea 'accidentally' spilling the beans.

She leaves the little apartment at Cricket's heels as soon as the two DVDs are ready, because there's no point in hiding. It'll probably be after supper before she can track down Shane and Scout at the same time anyway.

She feels a smile bloom across her face.

She's going to have a _baby_.

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane's already tossed his T-shirt into the laundry basket when he hears the knock at the door of the cabin. Scout's in the bathroom cubicle, muttering something about dropping the toothpaste cap in the sink, so he goes and opens the door. Finding Lori standing there, with laptop carry bag over her shoulder, is definitely not what he expected.

"Can I help you, Lori?" he asks, alerting Scout to who is at the door.

"Can I come in? I need to talk to both of you." The thin woman is pale and looks like she's about to face a firing squad instead of Scout and Shane, so he's a little worried. He steps back to let her in and goes and retrieves his shirt to pull it back on.

Scout peers around the bathroom privacy wall with toothbrush still in her mouth and waves acknowledgement that she knows Lori's there. He and Lori stare at each other in awkward silence while Scout finishes her teeth and joins them.

Lori's gripping the handle of the laptop bag like it's a lifeline and she's drowning. She takes a deep breath. "I had my physical today."

Shane isn't sure where that's something they should share in, but he nods. Scout's expression shifts from curiosity to something guarded when he glances at her. She suspects something about Lori's visit.

The older brunette reaches into the bag and draws out a few slips of paper that it takes Shane a moment to recognize from seeing around the office. When Carl was born, ultrasound photos were on film, not paper. He hesitates to reach for them as his brain catches up to what Scout's already realized, but she doesn't, so Shane finds himself standing next to his girlfriend while she looks at the very real evidence that his affair with Lori is not going to end up a distant memory for everyone.

Scout's hands shake when she hands him them to him.

"How far along?" she asks. He's never, ever heard her sound like that, and he can't quite identify the emotion changing her voice.

Lori's back to gripping the laptop strap. "Nine weeks. Cricket thinks end of February for a due date."

That excludes Rick entirely. Shane reaches out for Scout with his free hand. She's trembling, enough now that Lori's caught on. It unleashes a wave of babbling.

"Cricket said I should tell you both at the same time, and there's a video too, for you to keep. I'm not here to mess things up for you two. God no. It's just it's bad enough I've been suspecting for a couple of days without saying anything and then the ultrasound without telling anyone, and oh, don't. Please don't cry."

Scout's crying, not the big heavy tears he expects from a woman, but a gentle trickle. When Lori turns pleading, the Marine roughly swipes at her face. "S'okay, Lori."

Jesus Christ, now he has two crying women and the evidence that he's going to be a _father_ right in his hand. He pulls Scout in close and she accepts the embrace as he looks back to Lori. She speaks again before he can, and the words are so far beyond what he has experienced of her character lately that he thinks miracles do exist.

"We are having a baby," Lori says. "All three of us."

~*~ MD ~*~

"Hey, big guy."

Merle arches a brow when he sees Maggie in the office doorway. She smirks at him. "Patricia and I had a little chat, and I was going to bunk downstairs with the boys, but Jamie overhead and kicked himself and Danny down there. So, Patricia and I are going to take over Jamie's room. That gives you back your own space finally."

He glances toward the futon and can't deny he really would prefer sharing his own bed with Carol. "One of y'all can take over the office, if you like."

"Well, just between you, me, and the fence post, there's not exactly enough sound insulation between this room and that one."

Christ. He hopes Carol doesn't figure that out and get embarrassed as hell about it.

Maggie just laughs at him and shakes her head. "I'm grabbing our bags, so we'll be out of your hair. Consider it a gift for you finally realizing Carol's a keeper."

"Realized that before last night," he mutters.

"Long as you keep realizing it. I'd hate to have to demonstrate how daddy taught me to castrate pigs."

He sputters into laughter. "No need for that, girl. But if I did hurt Carol, you'd have to stand in line behind my own family on that."

She grins and mimes two fingers at him that she's keeping an eye on him before sashaying off. He shakes his head, wondering if Glenn's bitten off more than he can chew with his farm girl.

~*~ DD ~*~

"Hey, Uncle Daryl? You still up?"

Daryl is awake, although Abby's snoring against him in footie pajamas he had no idea came in her size until someone produced them for her. He closes his book and waves for Sophia to step inside the room.

She plops down next to the bunk bed and grins up at him. "They didn't say anything to me yet, but I caught Dad stealing a kiss from Mama a few minutes ago, after I finished reading with him."

"Really?" That's got his interest. He knows he told Carol she should make a move on Merle, but he figured it would take her longer. He'd been gone all day with a team to the lake, pilfering fuel and bringing in enough fish to feed the excessive numbers of mouths to feed they had now. Sophia went with him, while Abby stayed with Carol, and his daughter didn't bring up seeing anything new.

"So now I don't have to lock them in a bathroom or something until they figure out they're perfect for each other."

"Pipsqueak, you're spending entirely too much time with Honey if that's where you start your plots."

She giggles. "I do sleep on the same bunk bed."

"Maybe you need to be separated a while. Next thing I know you'll be stealing semi-trucks and driving without any lessons."

She glances up at the bunk Abby refuses to sleep in so far. "There is a vacancy. And Honey snores worse than Abby."

Daryl's aware of that habit. Merle took the girl to a sleep specialist and an ENT, but even removing her adenoids and tonsils didn't solve the problem completely.

"Might as well," he decides. Sophia flashes him a happy smile before going off to raid Jazz's bookshelves for something to read. It takes him a minute to return to his own book. He smiles at the idea of Merle finally with someone who'll give a damn about him. It's what his brother deserves.

~*~ SW ~*~

"Hey. You sure you're okay?" Shane slides into bed next to Scout, who's half propped on the pillows and has one of the ultrasounds in her hand. The other's on the fridge with the USMC magnet holding it in place.

She smiles at him and hands him the image, which he tucks into the drawer of the nightstand until he can find something to keep it in. Lori took the laptop with her, saying she needed to return it to Cricket, but they watched the video together first. The shock of the unexpected news is still lingering, but he can see the replay of the tiny baby on screen every time he closes his eyes for a minute, and there's a DVD on the counter for if they get something to play it in out here.

"Yeah, I'm good." She tugs him close, wrapping around him like a human blanket and he can feel her smiling against his shoulder. "You're gonna be a daddy," she says softly.

Wow. He's gonna be a dad.

"Scout?"

"Yeah?"

"You're gonna be a mama."

She raises up and looks at him now. Earlier, he'd seen her cry for the first time, but now tears glitter again. "Do you think she even begins to know what it means to me?"

"Maybe." Lori loved being a full-time mom to Carl. He suspects she knows about Scout from her sister, because she went out of her way to repeat that Scout was to be part of raising the baby. "What's the word for mother in Chamorro?"

"Nåna. But maybe godmother is more appropriate. In Chamorro culture, children have their parents and godparents, who are considered co-parents of a child. Lori and I would be kumaire, co-mothers. The baby would call me Nina."

"If you like that better." He pulls her in for a kiss, cupping her face and using his thumbs to brush away the evidence of tears. "I love you."

Her response isn't verbal to the first time he's said those words to her, but later, when they're both sated and sweaty and he tries to roll his weight off her, she resists by holding him close and repeating his words against his lips. "I love you. I guinaiya-ku."

"What does that one mean?" He's heard it before from her, and while he suspects what it might be, he isn't certain.

"My love."

He smiles down at her, stealing little, repeated kisses as he tries to master the phrase himself and she laughs at his pronunciation.

He knows right now that he's going to marry this woman and raise his child with her, because he's not giving this precious family up for anything.


	22. Floodgates

**August 9, 2010**

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol hands Daryl the drawstring bag of peaches to add to the lake crew's lunch offering. Everything else is meal bars and other travel food, but she figures while they have the immense number of peaches coming in from the Eldridge farm, they might as well get some fresh fruit too.

"You remember the rules, right, Sophia?"

Her daughter gives her a cheeky "yes, mama". She's still fascinated with the building process, but equally so with Daryl's hunting and fishing expertise, so she's switched teams for a few days. Carol gives her a kiss on the forehead and then crooks a finger at Daryl, who shakes his head initially, but then tips down enough she can kiss his forehead too.

"Gonna drive me crazy," he mutters, but he's sort of smiling. Better yet, the reason she's teasing Daryl is smiling. Abby's at her side, not interested in going on the trip after the long months on the road. "You gonna be good for Auntie Carol, Sunshine?"

Abby nods. She doesn't talk much outside of Daryl and occasionally Jazz or Honey, something that has everyone still a little on edge since the marshals reported it started after the death of her mother and stepfather. The entire trip here, she reserved almost all of her limited speech for the two youngsters instead of the adults. If yesterday starts a pattern, Abby will be her silent little shadow, helping when she can, but speaking very little. She joined Jazz yesterday for a couple of chores, simply because Carol wanted to see if she'd speak around her cousin. She did, so Carol will have her shadow Jazz once he switches off the building crew after lunch to farm chores.

They watch the trio of trucks pull out, all with trailers. They'll use the boats already at the marina they're targeting for fuel today to go out fishing, but Daryl's going to have the team clear the property of anything useful too. All three truck beds have the big fuel transport tanks installed, too. The marinas are turning out to be a treasure trove for both gasoline and diesel, and Daryl's years as a ranger in the area mean he remembers where they all are without a map.

"Let's go check on the Grady folks, Miss Abby," she tells the girl, who nods and takes her hand when offered, with Carol keeping her other on the handle of the big wagon she's towing with supplies.

She's heading for the small cluster of RVs housing the Grady folks when Merle's long strides catch up. She's still getting used to the open affection he bestows freely, but it gives her a thrill when his arm goes across her shoulders so he can steal a brief kiss. The big catahoula male is at his heels, but switches off to Abby's side almost immediately.

"You ladies gonna ride herd on the newbies today?"

"That's the plan. They'll start their rounds through the physicals today, since Hershel thought the women would respond better if they saw our people doing it first. Felipe's offered to teach a first aid and CPR course this morning for everyone interested, and I'm going to hand out their work rosters for starting tomorrow." The council decided on letting the newcomers have a few days of adjustment first, but now it was time to start integrating them.

"If you need me for anything, we're starting on the drywall in the cafeteria today. Finished the electrical tests yesterday, and the crew should be back by supper that Scout led to Buford after the appliances."

"So, two or three more days?"

"Probably three, but yeah. Soon as we finish the walls and floors, gonna send a smaller team to clear out those folding cafeteria tables from the elementary school."

Carol nods in understanding. With the cafeteria likely doubling as a community center of sorts, the ability to just fold up the tables and roll them out of the way would be handy. "Everybody running meal shifts will be your biggest fan when we aren't having to feed people outdoors anymore."

With about 150 people on the homestead now, meals were held under the big event tents a team cleared out of a local wedding event venue. The weather held so far, but all it would take is a big series of summer thunderstorms and feeding people outside would be impossible til the storms passed. The cafeteria technically wouldn't seat everyone at once if the community grew too much bigger, but she's grateful now that Merle and Amy planned ahead when they laid out the design. The big building is already 3,000 square feet as it is. Instead of cooking meals in a trio of kitchens, they'll have a big work area styled after a school system cafeteria.

"You still gonna cut back on your meal shifts?"

"I want to. Patricia thinks it shouldn't be a problem, since she doesn't want anyone pulling seven days a week anyway. I'll be the relief shift for breakfast."

"A'right. Just make sure you're choosing as much what you want to do as what you think people need you to do, Mouse. You have that luxury now." He steals a kiss before letting her go to make his way to the construction crew still enjoying steaming coffee from thermoses that Glynnis took over.

It's almost eerie how alert most of the Grady folks are when anyone approaches, but Carol can't blame them. She lived with that kind of hyper awareness for years around Ed, and after months under the evil the dead officers committed, true trust will come hard. Even the officers themselves are wary, and Carol takes note that they do take casual, but protective stances of their charges.

"Good morning, everyone," she greets cheerfully. Breakfast was brought to the group earlier when everyone else ate, but Abby and Carol have a treat in the form of fresh peach coffee cake to sweeten the deal of putting everyone to work. One of the officers takes the Tupperware containers from the wagon and another switches out the earlier coffee urns for the cold drink urns she's brought along. The ladies asked for and received a table to set up for washing dishes outside the cramped RV quarters, so at least Carol won't have to tow those back to the house for dish duty.

She lets everyone take their selection from the containers before she pulls out her notebook with a reassuring smile. "I know Merle and Scout probably filled all of you in on the process to get settled in, but as you probably noticed by now, they're beyond busy. I'll be your primary person for finishing settling in." She volunteered after Merle mentioned he suspected the abused women wanted to be okay around him, but it was a struggle for them, and Scout is honest enough to admit she's not the best choice either. It was a woman who allowed the abuses after all. Carol's lack of military or law enforcement background is a plus in this situation.

"They'll start physicals today, correct?" That's Dr. Edwards, who Carol's met several times as he passes through to take shifts looking after Michael Fisher, the tetanus patient. He'll actually be on duty in the little garage infirmary so Hershel can do the men's physicals.

"Yes. Ladies will go to the big med unit truck and men to RV number five." Rick volunteered his RV for the men's physicals, since he was going out on the appliance run.

One of the women shifts nervously. "It'll be the Dixon woman doing ours, right? I saw she worked yesterday for your people."

Carol smiles warmly. "You're our people too now. But yes, Cricket's in charge of the women's physicals. She was a med student at Emory before. But if you prefer a nurse instead, we can borrow Lilly for a bit, but she's really more needed for the infirmary." The nurse's years of experience with oncology patients is actually proving greatly useful in treating the elder Fisher male. "You can go on the buddy system if you want to and don't mind a friend present for exams, but it's essential after Mr. Fisher's tetanus that we get a measure of everyone's current health."

The objection fades with the reassurance of how it'll be handled, so Carol passes over a list of patients to the woman who asked. "It's planned to take two days, half an hour each, but if need be, we'll roll to a third day for the women. Men's physicals won't take as long, and there are fewer men, so they should be done today." The roster from the hospital is still a little disturbing. None of the male civilians from Grady are under sixty or over twenty. Scout's inquiry with the officer contingent confirmed they weren't allowed to rescue adult males at all. The eight officers are first on each list, since Merle wants them on the work crews as soon as possible.

"For those of you who do complete your physical today, as long as there's nothing precluding you working, you'll start in on a crew like everyone else. Morning work is non-optional for everyone, unless their non-optional shift ends up being cafeteria duty once the building's complete. In those cases, that'll cover any need for the morning work. Afternoon work shifts are voluntary, aside from supply run teams, as those can take all day or even multiple days, but you'll be credited for the extra time as voluntary shifts. Everyone works here."

"Including the children?" One of the women looks wary. The boy at her side is a burn survivor, one noted for being rescued after the napalming of Atlanta. She's not related, but she's obviously adopted the boy as her own. Carol remembers her name as Rebecca from Merle's details.

"Until the community center is complete, children under thirteen shadow a parent or someone the parent designates. If you're doing work that you feel isn't safe for a child to be part of, you can drop children off at the main house and there will be someone on childcare duty. They be able to read, watch television, do artwork... just like a daycare before. Once the community center is finished, we'll have all the kids under thirteen in lessons in the morning, which is actually a discussion I'll need to have with the school teacher in your midst."

The woman mentioned, Gail, acknowledges the request with a smile, looking grateful for what probably feels like a return to normalcy for her. Carol has her listed as a first-grade teacher, but she shouldn't have any problem with their small elementary age population, especially with Alaina assisting. The former librarian leapt at the idea to have something constructive to do when Merle convinced her that taking all the watch shifts waiting on word of her sons was unhealthy. Gail's probably equally happy that it puts her eight-year-old daughter along with her. They decided against formal schooling for the teenagers, letting the kids go through self-study and informal apprenticeships. At this point, lessons in analyzing literature weren't exactly a priority, and math and science they'd pick up through hands-on experience.

"I saw the little girl going out with one of the supply teams," Rebecca brings up.

"Sophia? Yes. She's thirteen, and that is an option if parents and the team leader agree for teenagers only. They're going to the lake to retrieve fuel and go fishing, like they did yesterday, and you see she returned safely. Her uncle was a conservation ranger with the state before. He's qualified to keep her safe, and you met her on the way in, so you know she's been trained for the reality of the world outside as well. Kids under thirteen can help on the farm with parental permission, since walkers gaining access there is difficult and it's monitored."

"Do all the kids have to learn to shoot?"

"Over thirteen, yes. Firearms training with the air rifles is required, as well as self-defense classes." She passes over the second notebook from the wagon, which details out everything, and Rebecca steps forward to take it. "That'll detail everything I'm telling you now, the community rules and expectations as they stand now. I understand there are four children with no permanent guardian?"

It's the officer who's taken charge of the remaining officers who answers. "Alvin, Jerry, Troy, and Carmen. Al's thirteen, Jerry's five, Troy's seventeen, and Carmen's fourteen."

"Is there anyone they prefer to have as a guardian?" she asks. "We have people available, if that's not possible."

Gail moves forward. "Jerry can stay with me and my daughter. That'll work out best since he'll be in the classroom most of the day anyway."

The only girl mentioned shrugs. "Maria's been taking care of me all this time. I'll stay with her and Yolanda." The woman mentioned agrees with a soft smile.

"Do I really need a guardian? I'll be eighteen in January," Troy asks. He's a clean-cut kid, thin and wiry like Glenn.

"I can put you down as one of the young adults on a trial run," she offers. "You can stay on with the folks here until we get better housing built, same as the other adults." He agrees, looking both happy and a bit surprised at the agreement. She's operating on the logic that Honey gave back at the quarry. Sometimes in this new world, splitting hairs over exactly when a birthday passes is overkill, especially with older orphans who might resist the idea of being supervised by someone other than their lost parents.

The younger teenage boy just looks tired. "Been looking after myself in Grady the same as foster care before."

Carol straightens, feeling sad for the youngster. "Well, we have someone here who has another boy who was a foster child before and she's got a foster daughter now as well. We'll start you out with Patricia and see if that works for you. If it doesn't, we'll keep trying til you find it." Of their own orphans, Patricia was in charge of Jimmy and Isabelle, with little Andy being absorbed into the Morales family.

"Does that mean I gotta leave over here?"

She can't tell if the boy's wary or hopeful with that. "That's up to you. Patricia's up in the main house. She's our quartermaster - in charge of the supplies and most of the work shift organization. Jimmy's been staying with some of the other young men in the basement, where the house has a bunk room meant for a storm shelter. You'd be rooming with three other teenagers and the two male Marines."

"And they won't have a problem with me being mixed?"

Carol decides then and there if it's any of the Grady people still living that added to the boy's worry over being biracial, she's going to make sure they draw every last disliked duty possible from here until the boy's thirty. "No, sweetie. I'm guessing they didn't really introduce how anyone is related in all the rush to get folks settled here, did they?"

She gets a lot of shaken heads, and Amanda Shepherd speaks. "We know Dixon's in charge and there's a council of some sort and that anything security goes through the female Marine and her husband."

She'll leave the idea of Shane and Scout's relationship alone for now, but she can explain the rest and set the boy at ease at the same time. "Scout? The female Marine? She's Merle's oldest daughter."

The boy makes the connection and manages a cautious smile. "She's what, part Latina?"

"Her mother was from Guam, which probably makes her closer to part Indonesian, as I understand it. One of the boys you'd be rooming with is the youngest Dixon boy. He's biracial too. You might have seen him working on the solar panel system on the community center roof yesterday." He nods. "Cricket, the med student, she's another Dixon daughter, and she was part of the team in Atlanta, so you may have met Honey as well. She alternates between the building crew and the supply crew, but she's on property today if you wanted to meet her and her brother today before you decide."

"Is that all the Dixons? The girl who went on the fishing trip called Mr. Dixon her father the other day," Amanda Shepherd asks.

"That's Sophia, and she'd be the youngest for Merle's children. But Jamie, the older of the two male Marines, he's Dixon family too." She smiles and places a gentle hand on Abby's blonde curls. "And this little miss is a Dixon as well. Her dad's the one leading the fishing team, Merle's brother, Daryl."

"Don't forget Grandma Glynnis and Shane and Tara and you," Abby prompts. It gets some amused smiles from the Grady folks, and Carol's glad to see she's speaking up to make sure all the extended family get noted.

"Oh, most certainly we can't forget. You all met Glynnis a few times already. She'll be the boss lady of all things at the community center. Shane's the security co-leader you've already met, and Tara is Cricket's partner."

"So, it's safe here, for women like them?"

Carol tries to memorize the speaker, a thin woman in her early twenties, just to make sure she's okay later. She looks fearful, but hopeful. "I assure you any problems with orientation won't be tolerated at all here. Are you on the list for physicals today?"

The woman steps up and scans the list where another woman is holding it and nods. "Yeah. I'm Nicole, fifth on the list."

"That'll give you the opportunity to talk to Cricket in person if you want to. Do you remember where Tara is today, Miss Abby?"

She knows exactly where Tara is, but she's hoping it'll encourage Abby to speak up if she's talking about her extended family. The girl nods, but doesn't smile. "She's on Scout's team today cos she's a cop like Daddy and Shane."

"Exactly right. That leads us to work rosters. All the former officers have been out and understand supply runs, so you'll likely find yourself assigned to various runs in pairs with another partnered team. We usually send out groups of eight to twelve, depending on how big the run's supposed to be, although a team can be as small as four if they're just scouting a location. We're on a plan to clear out all the surrounding small towns systematically, and then work into the larger towns as they can be done safely. Canned goods won't last forever, but leaving them out there to potentially be lost to weather and exposure isn't going to happen."

"And what about the rest of us?" Nicole asks.

"While you are required to learn firearm safety and self-defense, you aren't required to go on supply runs. If that's something you want to do, you'll need to submit your name and you'll get a bit more training. That actually applies to the officers too. If any of you would rather retire back to the building crew or farm crew, we'll take that into account. I'm hopeful that all of you that have CDL training will be willing to at least be drivers on supply runs, or if not, to train a number of folks who are interested."

One of the older men steps forward. "I don't think I'm up to doing the runs at my age, but I'm happy to teach."

"Oliver, right?"

"Yeah. Was forty years as a long-haul driver before."

"Driving lessons might require you to leave the property, but the town nearby has stayed clear since the unfortunate locals were laid to rest, so if you're willing, I'll put you down for an instructor." He nods and she gifts him a grateful smile. The other three drivers, all women, put their names down as willing to join the supply runs, and two officers acknowledge they can at least drive a bus like Shane can. A third wants to learn, but grew up on a farm, so is used to hauling trailers.

"See? We're already making a good progress. Tomorrow morning I'll have your actual assignments, so take today to take turns reading through the guidelines and settle in as best you can. If anyone's just tired of resting up, they're welcome to volunteer for the building crew if they think they're up for it. Doesn't matter if you don't know which end of the hammer to swing. They'll train you."

She bids them farewell, but pauses. "Al? You want to go with me and meet Patricia before you decide?"

The boy glances to Gail, who nods. She's glad to see he does have at least someone on his side in the Grady people, although that may be the woman's school teacher side at play. He joins her and Abby, offering to pull the wagon, so she turns the handle over to him. He's more talkative the further they get away, so she thinks he'll be okay in the end. He just needs a safe place, like they all do.

~*~ GR ~*~

"Holy shit, this gonna make Merle's week," Glenn exclaims. The others with him - Maggie, Tara, and Danny - agree. Their four-person team split off from the other two teams who were loading up everything they thought they could use and could fit on the semi-truck brought for the trip. The area had a lot of new development and when Tara spotted what looked like a lot of cargo containers, Scout sent them to explore since Merle wanted containers to reinforce the boundaries.

But instead of beat up old shipping containers used for shipping between semis and trains, they found a business that apparently created mobile shelters using converted shipping containers. The frantic construction would be much less frantic if they just needed foundations and to haul these babies into place. Glenn didn't know enough about construction to really assess, but he suspected these might be even easier than that modular maze they created for the nursing home.

He radios it in first to Scout, then to Homestead, and they explore while they wait on the watch folks to summon Merle.

"Is it just me are these like Legos, sorta?" Maggie asks. She's studying a catalog in the sales office they've broken into. "I mean, they're like amped up versions of the RVs, with more elbow room and privacy, depending on the model, but from the looks of this, they can be stacked?"

Glenn looks over her shoulder. "Yeah, they can, I think. I think I know what the next supply run will be, don't you?"

"Next?" Tara snorts as she sticks a large, glossy brochure into a carry bag to take back to Merle. "I'm betting the second Merle hears, we're going to be hauling a few of these babies back this trip. Think about it. We've got the semi that'll need a driver, plus shotgun. Then four people gotta take the flatbed truck and Subaru back, plus whatever they're pulling. But these can't be that complicated to pull, if we go slow. If Honey can make off with a fully loaded Freightliner and not crash it, these look like they're barely longer than the buses or RVs and we've all driven those except Glenn, so far. And there's that Chevy dealership down the road, so we just nab the keys to a few of those heavier duty trucks and load these babies up. That's three buildings, just this trip."

Maggie goes to the office door and studies the big lot. "It looks like they were putting together a big order for someone. Brochures talk about disaster relief and migrant worker housing, so guess they got an order in from somewhere. If they can be anchored down so they don't blow around in a storm, they'll be a lot better than the RVs and faster than the building crew can put them up."

"And privacy for those who want it?" Danny asks, winking at Glenn, who rolls his eyes at the younger man but then grins.

They follow Maggie out to make notes on what's actually available versus what's in the catalog. He can't help but be drawn to the sway of her hips even in the less-than-flattering cargo pants.

Yeah, privacy would be really nice.

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle sends the message through the cheap walkies worn by each of the folks informally designated as the council to alert them for a planning meeting before supper tonight.

The news called in by Glenn's team is more than welcome, as he was estimating a close shave with winter on building housing unless he resorted to large bunkhouses. Depending on what the final count was from the container conversion company, they might get everyone housed and only have to do foundations and hookups. Right now, one of his bigger fears was a tornado, or worse, a hurricane blowing in off the coast. They weren't so far inland not to have problems if one did hit. Before the Grady group, he could get everyone in the shelters on site, since both the original house and his own have basements and there's an independent shelter out by the farthest barn if anyone got caught on the further side of the property unexpectedly.

But with more than a hundred people, they'd be worse than sardines right now. The RVs would be worse than matchsticks, plus the men in the barn office aren't the safest either. Prebuilt containers properly anchored and secured would at least mean a fighting chance if a tornado arrived without good warning, and time to put in another shelter or two. They don't have emergency services to come save them anymore.

Some of the stress taking residence in the back of his brain lessens its grip and he feels he can breathe just a bit easier. Taking in the Grady folks was an undertaking they weren't truly prepared for, and now karma's blessed them. He smiles and goes to give the good news to the rest of his building crew.

~*~ LG ~*~

"Abby?" Lori twists in the office chair, where she's been using Merle's laptop to update their inventory again. She's still not entirely sure how she got the job of computerizing it all, but she's not going to complain. All those years of chairing PTA meetings and fundraisers ought to pay off somehow.

The little girl peeks around the corner from where Lori thinks she's been watching her work from just out of sight. She can hear voices down in the main part of the house, and assumes that Carol's somewhere since it's just past lunch and Abby's normally with either Carol or Jazz if Daryl's gone. But caught in her peeking, she comes into the office, coming to stand beside Lori hesitantly.

"Is Carl right? Are you having a baby?" The timid question worries Lori, but everyone's been worried in their own way about Abby's quiet behavior. It's apparently at odds with her normal personality. The Dixons may have been cut off from the girl for a few years, but Glynnis visited regularly. The girl is taking her mother and stepfather's deaths hard.

"Yes. I just found out." She gathered up Carl and went to Rick after she left Scout and Shane, figuring she might as well while she still had the borrowed laptop in case Carl wanted to see more than the print outs. Her son is overjoyed about a sibling, although she thinks the news of her relationship with Shane may take time to fully process. He really did miss out that they were together at the quarry camp. It probably helps that she and Rick already talked him through their ending of the marriage, and he has always loved Shane. A new sibling isn't upsetting his world much at this point.

Rick, though. Her ex-husband is hiding it well, but he's taking it hard, and she recognizes the haunted look he gets when he's blaming himself for something. She knows if she thought about his refusal for fertility testing, he probably has too. He asked her for space to process and even dropped off the supply run crew to work with the builders for a few days, uncomfortable around Shane. Shane bore the request stoically, so she hopes Rick wraps his mind around it before anything festers to hurt the two men's friendship again.

"Is the baby okay?"

It's kind of an odd question for a ten-year-old, but Abby's world's been upside down for a while. "Very okay. Cricket checked everything out yesterday and even did an ultrasound."

"And you heard the heart beat." Abby tilts her head and tries to imitate the rapid pattern of a fetal heartbeat. Lori nods and the girl's fingers flex. Lori thinks she wants to touch her belly, but she's not sure. She's starting to have a horrible feeling about the distinctive knowledge the girl has for an only child.

"Abby, sweetie? Have you been around a pregnant lady before?" Please, please let it be a schoolmate's parent.

"Mama." She makes a hiccupping sound like she's about to cry, so Lori takes the chance and pulls the girl into her lap. "Mama's baby was sick. That's why she got sick when we were travelling. There was blood and she was crying the night before she died and hurt Ethan."

"Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry." What do you say to that? The marshals didn't mention a miscarriage or even a pregnancy, so apparently it wasn't common knowledge.

Abigail begins to cry in earnest now, big, body-shaking sobs that nearly rock even Lori's form as she holds her. She fumbles across the desk for the intercom, calling for Carol. But even with the older woman arrives, the little girl won't turn loose of Lori, so the two women just bracket the girl as she grieves until she falls asleep in exhaustion.

"Will you help me move her over to the futon?" she asks Carol when it seems Abby's deep asleep. Between them, they get the girl stretched out, but any move Lori makes away from her rouses her to distressed cries, so Lori lays down beside her.

"I'll go get Glynnis if you're okay to stay," Carol says.

Like Lori could leave right now even if the girl did let her go. Her pregnancy might be the catalyst that opened the floodgates on the little girl's grief, and nothing else about Lori herself, but what she knows is that there's a motherless child desperately wanting her comfort.

She's not going anywhere at all.


	23. Sleepless Night

**August 9, 2010**

~*~ DD ~*~

Today's run ended up being one where Daryl is completely grateful there's plenty of willing hands to take over and unload both the fish they caught and the fuel and supplies. He's exhausted as he pulls the truck to a halt, and Sophia's been asleep on Zach's shoulder for the past half hour. They were cut off from an easy return by a herd moving northwest, thankfully well out of range of the Homestead, but he made the decision to lead the dead on a chase around to the west side of the damned lake rather than risk they might somehow shift and follow the noise. They weren't in any danger from the shuffling mass, but instead of arriving back just before supper, it was now getting closer to dusk.

His first sign that something's off kilter here is when Patricia is herding the rest of his crew away toward one of the tents for their supper, her expression solemn as she even tugs Sophia away. "Merle needs to talk to you up at the house. Everything's okay, but it's a family matter." She catches his glance toward Sophia. "Adults. You can fill her in later about what you think she needs to know."

Sophia looks worried, so he musses her hair. "Go on, Pipsqueak. If it's not okay, we'll make it so."

She looks uncertain, but follows Patricia obediently as he heads for where his brother is standing on the front porch and waiting.

"What happened, Merle?" This careful shit is worrying him, especially after the extra time on the road today.

Merle clears his throat. "Abby finally talked about her mama dying. It was pretty rough."

"Thought she might eventually talk to Carol if no one else." Carol certainly always managed to make him feel a little pocket of calm safety anytime he was around her.

"It wasn't Carol." Merle glances back toward the house. "Was Lori."

"What's she doing hanging around Abby? She's supposed to be with family if I'm not here." Lori Grimes is too lackluster in looking after her own kid, in his eyes, to be responsible for Daryl's.

"She heard something from Carl when she was playing a game with Jazz and some of the other kids this afternoon. She came upstairs to get a snack and went off to find Lori instead when she realized Lori was working in my office."

He starts to go past his brother to find his daughter, frustrated with the conversation, but finds himself halted by Merle's hand on his bicep. "Daryl, her mama had some sort of miscarriage and it's most likely why she was sick and died like she did. From what Carol and Lori could suss out, she was still first trimester, so Ethan's coworkers didn't know yet, but Abby did, apparently."

"So why all the fuss keeping me out here to tell me?" It's horrific, and despite all the bad blood between him and Carrie, he would never want her to die like that. He can't imagine how much grief Abby's been keeping locked up. She always wanted a sibling, but it never happened in the five years he was married to her mother.

"Because you haven't made your distaste for Lori any secret, baby brother, and your little duckling is imprinted on her right now something fierce because she found out Lori's pregnant. They're sitting inside watching a movie, and if you're gonna be pissed about the fact that I think you need to let her spend time with Lori, neither of them is up to witnessing it."

"What the hell, Merle? The woman can barely keep up with her own kid. I'm not putting mine off on her. And pregnant? That's just another mess at her feet, ain't it?"

"Daryl." It's not often he hears that sort of bite in Merle's tone, not toward him, and he stiffens, still held in place by the hand on his bicep when he starts forward. "Whatever the grudge you're nursing toward the woman, let it go. Can't have family tearing at each other. Not before, not now."

"Lori ain't family."

"Consider her however you like, but her baby will be."

"And Scout's happy about that?" He can still remember when the reality kicked in for Scout of the extent of her injuries and just what was taken from her that wouldn't heal. It was after everyone else had returned back to Georgia, just him and her in San Antonio before she was discharged from the burn unit. He couldn't even hold her through it, the burned skin still too painful.

"Scout's the one that decided that." He finally lets Daryl go, and he moves away, feeling desperate to see with his own eyes that Abby's okay.

She blinks at him sleepily from where she's tucked in between Lori and Jazz on the sectional, watching _The Incredibles_. He drops down to crouch directly in front of her. "Hey, Sunshine."

"Hi, Daddy." She gives him a hesitant smile. "Did Uncle Merle talk to you?"

"Yes, baby girl, he did. I'm sorry I wasn't here when you needed to talk finally."

"It's okay. Auntie Carol and Miss Lori took care of me." He glances to where his daughter has firm possession of one of Lori's hands, as if the skinny woman will escape if she doesn't hold on.

"Is that so? I'm glad they did."

She reaches out to pet his cheek and he catches her hand and holds it in contact with him. "I'm gonna be Cricket's helper when she takes care of Miss Lori's baby," she says softly.

It takes every ounce of self-control he has not to react, to stiffen up, because he knows his fragile little daughter is one of the smartest kids he knows. Even without Merle's cautionary order, he knows he can't take this from Abby. It isn't his happiness or comfort that's important here.

"I'm sure you'll be a proper little doctor then. Maybe we'll find you a lab coat and some scrubs so you'll look the part," he offers. She giggles and frees her hands from both adults, pushing around him to pull something off the coffee table behind him. It's a little photo album, a cheap one meant to keep pictures in a purse, and she opens it to show him an ultrasound.

"See, the baby's just right and happy. There's its head and arms and legs. Cricket showed me how to listen to the heartbeat too. It's a special machine and she and Miss Lori say I can keep it so I can do the checkups. I have a stethoscope too, but you can't hear the baby yet with that because it's way too little."

It sounds like a hell of a lot of decisions made before he even has the chance to be involved, but he knows everyone's been worried about Abby. The second they had an inkling of how to help her, the family probably burst into action like a kicked over ant hill to provide fixes to her problem. He's just going to have to roll with it for now, until Abby's had more time to heal.

He kisses her forehead and gives her the best smile he can manage. "It sounds like you have it all planned out. How about I go take a shower so I don't smell like a fish bucket anymore and come back to watch your movie with you?"

She nods, her attention already drifting back to the movie over his shoulder as soon as he mentioned it.

He avoids looking at Lori at all when he stands and walks away.

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane's settled into the spot he and Scout usually use for movies in the Dixon living room when she pauses short of him, handing off their drinks. "I'm gonna go check on Tihu."

She makes her way up the stairs, where Daryl disappeared as soon as Abby decided she was happy enough with Carol overseeing her bath if she got to borrow the big bathtub in the master suite. Everyone else is settling in comfortably while the teenagers bicker over the movie choice. Most here are the residents of the house, but Lori's here tonight, which is new. Rick declined the invitation, but Shane expected that. His best friend assures him he isn't angry about the baby, just adjusting, but it still weighs on him.

From the sound of it, everyone's about to get an earful, because Daryl's very clear "what the fuck do you think's gonna happen?" echoes down the hallway and into the open air of the living room in the weird acoustic trick he's noticed about any of the upstairs rooms if the doors are open. Raised voices carry like an echo chamber. Merle gets to his feet, but Cricket stops him, shaking her head.

"You know something's been festering there, brewing since San Antonio. Best to let it out."

No one looks comfortable at the idea of hearing whatever this is going to be and Cricket just gives a forced smile. "TV downstairs works just as well for movies."

Shane notices Merle's gripped the railing for the spiral stairs, obviously uncertain about Cricket's request he stay out of it. The kids are gone, but not everyone has cleared the room when it's Scout he hears now.

"You say something that stupid again, and I'm going to smack you so hard Abby'll be a grandmother when you wake up."

Daryl's reply isn't loud enough to carry, or he's far enough away from the door to muffle it, so the next thing they hear is Scout again. They're down to Merle, Shane, Lori, and Cricket.

"You can't think Lori's anything like our mother, Daryl. Lilliana wasn't capable of loving anyone, but even a blind person can see Lori loves her kid."

Lori freezes in place, her progress halted by hearing her name, and he thinks she's actually considering leaving entirely by her anxious look toward the door.

Merle looks sucker punched, reliving some past pain maybe, and Cricket steps in to wrap her arms around her father's waist. He folds her in his arms in reflex.

"It's my choice, dammit! Mine! If I get hurt, that's my choice too." Shane understands Merle's wish to intervene. Scout's distress, the words obviously do to with him and Lori and probably the baby, makes him feel sick to his stomach. Earlier, everyone seemed to take the news in stride about the pregnancy, bustling around as if it were all planned to happen exactly so. He still remembers the thrill of hearing the baby's heartbeat with the little Doppler Cricket brought to test out and then demonstrated to Abby once they knew for sure it would work so early along. The little girl's joy was infectious.

Daryl's moved back in range to be heard again. "And when she finds her someone new and decides sharing the baby's a bad idea, how're you gonna live with that?"

"She's not Carrie either." The rest of what Scout says isn't audible.

"Rather be alone by my choice. Everybody leaves. Even you did. Needed my sister and you weren't here!"

Their voices both drop again, almost muffled. He hopes it's because they're trying to comfort each other.

Cricket curses against her father's chest. "Stupid fucking therapist. Never should have listened to her saying we had to acknowledge Daryl wasn't actually our brother."

It's not the first time Shane's heard Daryl or Scout slip out from uncle/niece to siblings terminology. Daryl does it more than Scout does, using that Chamorro term for sibling like an affectionate nickname. He can only imagine how complicated it is, with Merle raising Daryl right alongside his own children, to sort out the relationship to fit society's expectations.

Merle smooths his daughter's hair. He speaks softly, explaining for Shane and Lori, since the upstairs argument seems to have subsided. "Daryl didn't know he was my brother until he was twelve. I got our father's rights terminated when I was stationed in California and adopted him. Thought him thinking I was a dumb sixteen-year-old father was better than telling him our father beat our mama to death and left him abandoned with her body. If I'd never come back to Georgia and put him in range of the old man again, maybe I would have never had to tell him."

Lori's got her mouth covered with one hand in a way Shane knows means she's trying not to cry.

Cricket lets Merle go and goes to wrap Lori in her arms. "This isn't on you, Lori. Daryl's been hurting a long time and just when we thought he was getting over losing Abby, Scout got hurt. I don't even think Daddy was as terrified as Daryl when we saw what she survived. The scars are so bad, but the burns... I was afraid then, if we lost Scout, we were gonna lose Daryl too."

"They're close, but that close?" Shane says. Thinking Rick was dead gutted him, but he grabbed his lifeline by focusing on Lori and Carl.

"She nearly died to protect him once, Shane. I don't think he'll ever see that as repaid. And that thing she does, where she touches along a pulse point when she's being affectionate? She thought he was dead and was too young to know how to check. It's been a nervous habit of hers about people she loves ever since."

Merle sighs. "Spent enough on that expert therapist to put her kid through college. All she could do was keep repeating to set boundaries and acknowledge the past. They got worse, not better. Took all the kids to Guam for a year and stayed with their extended family. Nobody there knew what happened, and the culture there is changing and Westernizing, but they still value the relationship between siblings, especially a brother and sister. Might have been best to stay on the island, but I got a job offer back home and was still naive enough then to think their mother might wake up one day and want her kids again. There was no way she was ever going back to Guam once she left it."

Scout appears in the open part of the hallway. She looks haunted and lost and doesn't acknowledge anyone before escaping down the stairs out the front door.

Shane follows.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol shuts off the bathroom light and crosses to the bed. Merle's already lying down, sheet pulled to his waist and one arm behind his head. He's so lost in his thoughts he doesn't acknowledge her right away and actually seems startled when she brushes against him by accident.

She gives him a soft smile. "Penny for your thoughts?"

His eyes slide closed for a minute, and she aches for him after the upheaval of earlier. She missed what actually happened, being in the bathroom with Abby, who at ten was too old to need supervision but still too rattled by her losses to want to be left alone in any room. They returned to the living room to find everyone scattered and Merle looking like the walking wounded. She accepted his request to wait to explain, but she's not sure he can yet.

His voice is husky, low-pitched with emotion when he does speak, eyes still closed. "Every time I think they've healed past Lil's neglect, I find out something's just ripped right past the scars and wounded them again."

"Scout and Daryl?" Cricket seemed distressed, but more of a reaction to Merle's emotions than anything of her own. But then, the bits she's pieced together of the checkered history show the younger three kids led relatively normal, stable lives.

"I never realized he was angry at her. He always seemed so proud of what she was doing, serving her country." He opens his eyes, rolling to face her. "We were all terrified when we went to San Antonio. The odds were so low on survival at first. I even called her mother. Lil lives two hours from the burn center and wouldn't come even when I told her our girl might be dying. That's who I married, and it took me years to realize the damage she was doing to them. I sometimes wonder if I ever would have woken up if my father hadn't got out of prison and forced me to learn exactly what went on in my own home when I wasn't there."

Carol feels sick. With Ed, as terrifying as it was, there was never a time when she didn't know every interaction he had with Sophia. She reaches out in comfort, cupping his face between her hands and resting her forehead against his.

"Assholes always want to act like beating on a kid is the only way to damage one, and Lil put up one hell of a front when I was there. Daryl was her precious boy, always praised for how sweet he was to his sisters. Didn't have the first clue she started leaving Daryl to watch the girls as young as seven, best he can remember, anytime I wasn't home. Did the bare minimum to keep CPS out of the picture when I was deployed. I left them alone with her for fucking months at a time when I was in the Marines."

There's nothing really to say to that, so she just caresses his hair, letting him vent.

"I was out of town for work when the police tracked me down. Daryl was critical, Scout not a lot better, but she was alert at least. Will Dixon dead in my own kitchen floor. Lil was in goddamned Savannah, hours away. Left a twelve-year-old alone with an infant and two little girls. She almost did time for it too, but her public defender managed a post-partum depression defense. I caved to it long as she gave up her rights."

"Do you think it really was post-partum?" She's horrified for poor, young Daryl. No wonder he's hardwired as a protector of children.

"I don't think Lil is capable of loving anyone, despite years of convincing myself otherwise."

"I'm sorry." She kisses him gently and he allows it, drawing her in close. She's avoided asking in the past, since they both share the barest minimum of their particular demons in regards to their exes, but he's already hurting. "How did Jazz happen?"

"Jazz is an undeserved blessing for me being too stupid acknowledge that Lil was lying the one time she sought contact with the kids again when we came back from Guam. She did the whole song and dance. She had therapy. She was willing to have supervised visitation. All the right words, even the right actions. Only smart thing I did was not let her see the kids right away. She just found life on her own too hard. Thank God she never could handle her alcohol and didn't realize I'd grown up past the idiot eighteen-year-old kid she married. Maybe I'm a good father now, Carol, but it took me years to get here."

"She was older than you?"

"Six years older, yeah. She was a waitress at one of the cafes popular for the servicemen on the island. Exotic as hell for a Georgia boy looking to forget where he came from. Only half Chamorro. Her mama was half-Chinese, half-Chamorro and her daddy's father was an American. When the state of Georgia wouldn't give custody of Daryl to me as a single man, she offered to marry me as the solution. She wanted off the island."

Carol strokes his shoulders and kisses him again, letting it linger. "I guess I know why you've stayed unmarried so long then."

His smile is slow in coming, and bittersweet, but it's there. "I did get a really good payoff for the wait. Don't look so worried for me, Mouse. I survived it, just like you survived yours. Matching pair."

She can't help a small laugh at the image of them as a matched pair, but at the same time it's true.

Tonight's emotions are just one little bump in the road to fitting all the Dixon pieces back together properly.

~*~ LG ~*~

"Quit acting like I'm going to bite you, woman." Daryl huffs as he finishes putting bedding on the futon in Jazz's room.

Lori's still baffled by the fact that she's let herself be convinced to stay with Abby, after the little girl panicked when she realized Lori was leaving the house to sleep 'outside'. But it seems that Daryl cracking enough to ask her to stay in the house is as far as he can manage to go tonight. Leaving her alone in the room with Abby isn't on the agenda.

She doesn't think she's ever seen a man so brittle or wary of another human being who hasn't actually harmed them. His daughter is curled at her back, contentedly asleep, but she's not sure sleep's on the agenda tonight for her despite knowing she needs it.

She shouldn't start any serious discussion with the girl asleep in the room, but then again, maybe it's the best time to address what she overheard. "I'm not going to hurt Scout."

He drops his pillow with a thump and turns to face her. She thought she's seen him angry at the quarry, when everything in the world seemed to irritate him except the four children, but it's nothing to now. He's so tense she thinks he'd break a bone if someone pushed right now. "Ain't like you'll plan it, but you will. Won't just be Scout who'll get hurt. You don't have the ability to be alone. You ever even been?"

She has to shake her head in order to be honest. "Rick and I grew up together, dated in high school, got married when he graduated college."

"And just as soon as you though he was gone, you couldn't stay alone then either."

"It wasn't like that. Haven't you ever just needed to let someone make you feel something other than grief?"

It's like she flicked a switch. The angry stance disappears and he closes off so fast there's no emotion at all she can determine. She doesn't think he's stopped being angry at her very existence on the planet, but she's still not sure what she's said to cause the change. He's about the same age she is and was married for a number of years too. Surely, he understands.

"No."

He turns away, lowering himself onto the futon with his back turned toward her.

She tries again. thinking about what he said about not just Scout getting hurt. "Daryl, I won't hurt her. Not Scout, and certainly not Abby."

Just when she thinks he's going to ignore her entirely, he speaks. "We'll see."

Deciding she's gotten as far as she can, she settles in herself, trying to will herself to this being no worse than sharing quarters on the road.

It still takes her hours to fall asleep, and she's fairly certain Daryl's awake just as long.

~*~ SW ~*~

"Scout?" Shane calls out softly when he wakes up alone in the bed. She's hard to spot in the darkened cabin at first, she's curled up in such a tight little ball.

When he first got to the cabin, she hadn't wanted to talk at all. She turned the maelstrom of emotion into intense sex that would leave them both carrying marks of fingers grasping a little too hard and his back scored with nail marks. But it seemed to work to bring her out of the state she worked into due to the old memories. It took her two hours to stumble through what she needed to say about her mother. They'd fallen asleep with him wrapped around her for once.

She doesn't answer right away and he leaves the bed to go to her. She's trembling, skin clammy, and it takes him a few seconds to realize her lack of response isn't intentional.

"Scout. It's Shane. I'm going to pick you up." He reaches for the fleece blanket on the back of the couch and wraps her in it, hauling her into his arms, trying to remember all she told him to do if she dissociated. He wishes he knew where her mind is, the flashback more real right now than he is.

Keep her warm and talk. She likes touch. He can do that. He tells her all about his Grandma Jean, about the time he stole the principal's car, about the time he and Rick got busted with a purloined six pack by Lori's uncle the cop when they were thirteen. It feels like hours, but he thinks it's really only about fifteen minutes when she finally makes a small movement and turns her face toward him.

"Shane?" Her voice is slurred, as if her tongue can't quite manage the single syllable of his name.

"Yeah, baby, I'm right here. I gotcha."

"Okay." She lets him carry her to the bed and he puts her down gently. "Don't leave," she mumbles.

"I'm not. Not ever." He gets them both prone in the bed, not sure how she'll want to lay, but she actually manages to solve that for him by curling against his chest, her face pressed against his throat.

"I'm afraid I'll be like my mother."

Fuck. He just can't imagine Scout ever being so disconnected from any child she couldn't stand to look at them. "You won't be. You're Merle's daughter. You won't know how to do anything but love that baby."

She's quiet, but awake, her breath against his throat even and steady but too heavy for sleep.

"I love you."

"I love you too. Try to sleep, please?"

He's not sure how much time passes but she eventually sleeps. He stays awake, standing guard in case any more demons visit her nightmares tonight.


	24. Village

**August 16, 2010**

~*~ MD ~*~

It took a week to transport and install the containers from the company's site to the Homestead. Drivers made two trips a day to load and reload, each of their shotgun riders able to run the equipment on the other to load the containers onto the trailers. In all, they had 46 units, most residential in some format, but a handful of extras for hygiene facilities and finally a building set up as a command center to move the security room out of the office at the equipment barn. The paperwork Glenn discovered showed they were prepping for two separate orders - one a migrant farm camp and another a disaster relief effort going overseas.

It was the second order that delighted the medical personnel. The company was halfway through completing a modular hospital on larger semi-truck trailers. The radiology unit was built but lacking equipment, as were the inpatient and outpatient units. But since the surgical unit was completed, everyone was considering it a score. They could pilfer the equipment from local clinics and hospitals. The new 'infirmary' is now set up next to the nursing home to share the septic and water system. With any luck, they wouldn't use it much at all.

They now have an entire container village, stacked in four container stacks, secure on foundations and could conceivably sleep almost the entire population in the Village without assigning every bunk in the four ten-bed bunkhouses as well as the other units. Luckily, they didn't need to, and the ones in those units didn't seem to resent some folks got private bathroom facilities and even tiny galley kitchens.

It probably helped that no one's showers were usable yet, not even the shared washrooms for the non-bathroom units. The wells on the property couldn't sustain this level of water use until they finished upgrading the system. He was just grateful the toilets were all composting units, although that was going to cause a lot of the residents some adjustments. Showering in the RVs for a few more days wouldn't bother anyone.

Most of units were in various stages of furnishing with only the kitchen and bathrooms complete, but Glenn's teams solved that problem with runs to furniture stores. Today was move-in day, so the open area next to the Village looked like an explosion of furniture as Patricia and Carol allotted what each place needed.

"Surveying your kingdom, oh Mufasa?"

He snorts and accepts the hug in greeting from Cricket. "No more than you've been drooling over having an actual infirmary. You gonna be able to share with Edwards?"

"Yeah. Didn't make it far enough in med school to have my bedside manner permanently removed, but he's not bad if you remember it's not weird for doctors to develop God complexes. I think he's just so glad to answer to Hershel and not an uninformed cop that we could probably make him live in the infirmary staff room 24/7 and he wouldn't object."

"I think your younger siblings ended up with as much paint on them as the buildings when they put up the addresses." To save on everyone's sanity, they debated on some sort of labeling or addressing system for the Village. In the end, since there were twelve of the four container clusters, they were all named after the signs of the zodiac, narrowly beating out the twelve Olympians. Sophia, Honey, and Jazz volunteered to stencil the buildings and finished up just before move-in, looking like graffiti artists gone bad.

"I'm not entirely sure Jazz ending up with purple hair isn't on purpose from either one of the girls, you know. You think Carol's going to have a fit that Sophia's is about half blue?"

"I doubt it. She's usually just happy Sophia's getting to have small bouts of mischief still."

"You've been a lot happier lately, other than the hiccup with Scout and Daryl."

Calling it a hiccup was an understatement, considering Scout ended up off duty on doctor's orders for two full days. Shane didn't leave her side, but Jamie and Glenn stepped in nicely, proving they could safely rotate their outside crews to allow down time without exhausting Scout and Shane.

"I am happy." He meets her searching look and smiles.

"Carol's so much better than Evelyn, you know."

"Never intended to marry Evelyn any more than she intended to marry me. You kids worried a lot for nothing."

"Well, I'm glad you decided to take a chance finally. This definitely isn't a world to be alone in."

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane follows Scout's move instinctively, just like the other six on their team. Under the awnings of the shopping center, she tracks the flight of the helicopter with her binoculars.

"Looks like Guard, although there's no guarantee it's still in military hands, or that they haven't gone rogue."

She lowers the binoculars to exchange a look with Tim, who was assessing with his own binoculars. The former Ranger shrugs.

"Want to go find out?" she asks, turning to Shane.

"Might as well. If they're rogue, we don't want them finding the Homestead."

They set off back to their vehicles. Today's trip is primarily about the propane supplier here in Acworth, but the untouched pharmacy took as much priority. Unfortunately, it didn't have back up power, so all the refrigerated medication was a loss, even if the rest is a good haul.

Shane slides into the driver seat of the truck, with Scout beside him and Gage and T-Dog behind them in the crew cab. Tim follows with Karen, Bello, and McGinley in their own truck.

"There's an old campground out this way," Scout explains. "Angle's right for where it disappeared. Gonna radio it in. Tihu's crew is too close for my comfort."

Shane agrees. Daryl's systematic stripping of marina resources is bringing his two teams to Lake Allatoona every day. He listens in as she alerts Homestead, leaving it to them to relay the message.

T-Dog chuckles from the backseat. "You know, we thought Rick was crazy when he talked about seeing a helicopter in Atlanta. But now I'm thinking maybe it was whoever this is."

"Always possible," Shane notes.

Scout motions for him to pull over. "Gonna take Tim for a little recon."

He doesn't like separating from her, but he can't argue that she and the former Ranger are best suited for this. "Giving you half an hour, like always."

He watches the minutes track slowly by, glancing occasionally to the truck parked behind his. At the wheel, Karen is equally alert. He's glad neither of his companions feel the need to babble to fill the silence.

Radio on the dash sounds at last. "Follow the signs in to the campground. Got ten stray Guardsmen."

He puts the truck in gear and follows the instructions, but keeping alert. Scout's message didn't contain any codewords for duress, but it pays to be wary these days.

Her posture is loose and relaxed when he pulls up. Tim is at her left, hyper alert like he usually is outside their safe haven. Facing them is a weary looking man wearing Lieutenant rank, with a Sergeant close by. The others of their little unit aren't even standing, except for two doing checks on a trailered helicopter. With luck, they've found friendlies.

Shane joins her while the rest of their people stay in the trucks.

"This is my second-in-command, former deputy Shane Walsh," she begins. "Walsh, this is former Lieutenant Thomas Welles. He and his men were part of a refugee camp up at Rome before it fell after walkers got inside."

"Former?"

The older man sighs. "Resigned my commission and was out couple months before this started. Reported in to see if I could help my old unit. Never had any paperwork done in the chaos and not retired so..." He shrugs

"Kept us going," the sergeant says. "Paperwork don't matter."

Shane exchanges a look with both his own people, realizing he's in some grey area about military service. Using his own surname is far more formal than they ever are, but then again, her only two active military members she considers family.

"Was thinking there's no point in these Guardsmen living in a campground."

"Some might consider us deserters," Welles days.

"Not sure the military regs ever mentioned procedures for dead people cannibalizing the public. You kill civilians to get this far?"

Welles looks horrified. "Of course not! We tried to gather people to come with us, but it was chaos. Regrouped and went back to look for survivors and there were none. So, I took my men and kept them safe. We take the bird up to look for survivors but you're the first we've seen."

"Nature of the beast is most are keeping well hidden." Scout signals for his opinion and he taps back the yes on his thigh. They could use the manpower and they've got the space. Nothing about either man close enough to observe closely triggers his instincts.

"Got a safe haven I can offer, if you're tired of being a nomad. Plenty of civilians collected up."

"And if someone turns in a big group?"

"We've got our precautions in place. Haven't lost anyone since assholes ambushed us a few months back."

Welles and the sergeant exchange a look. The enlisted man nods and smiles, the first change in his solemn expression Shane's seen.

"And if any of my people do want to be free of military obligation, Staff Sergeant?"

"Don't exactly have a higher authority to process a discharge, but for my purposes, if they want to be civilians, that's how we'll treat them."

"Including myself?"

"Got no pressing need for an officer when we run things by civilian rules where we're from now."

"Good. I was always more committed to being a teacher than an officer. It paid for college and I honored my commitment, but I never made above lieutenant for a reason."

"We could probably use a teacher more anyway," Shane acknowledges. "Ever work with elementary kids?"

"Occasionally, to introduce then to the potential of the middle school band program."

"If you survived middle schoolers, our kids should be a walk in the park," Tim says, making everyone chuckle.

"You can really take in ten more?" the corporal asks.

"We've had a remarkable string of luck. Ten more able-bodied people is an easy addition. If you're coming, get loaded up. We have a supply run to finish out on the way back."

It takes them less than half an hour to strike camp. Shane thinks they're just grateful there's proof they aren't the last handful of people among the dead.

He has to say that bringing a helicopter back isn't among the expectations he had for today. He's doubtful of the long-term usefulness of it, but better secure with them than potentially with a violent group.

~*~ GR ~*~

Glenn flops onto the full-size bed with a grin. The container housing ranks among his favorite finds ever, especially since it means precious privacy with Maggie. He isn't sure her father is all that happy with them living together, but he didn't object.

They ended up with an upper unit in one of the duplex containers, one with a galley kitchen and eventually their own bathroom. There's no one next door yet on this side, with Rick and Morgan each having one of the two-bedroom family units below them. T-Dog has the unit on the other side of little building, with the last also open.

"I can't believe how many people took the triplexes with no bathrooms,' he says to Maggie, who is still unpacking her things. Their run went smoothly, leaving them time to settle in before supper and the community wide meeting in the community center after.

"Less obligation to look after a composting toilet or afraid it'll stink despite ours being essentially the same as a regular toilet."

He supposes that makes sense. He didn't know exactly how all the system worked with talk of composting and leach fields and didn't really care. When his turn came around to empty the composting bins, he'll grin and bear it. Wasn't like it's a daily chore.

Although it shows how weird life has become now that he's thinking about toilet function while alone in the first home he's ever shared with a woman. But after Maggie laughed so hard she fell over at his horrified reaction to his best friend and former roommate describing cholera and dysentery in graphic terms. He was surrounding himself by women who delighted in torturing him.

But when Maggie finishes her unpacking and joins him on the bed, he thinks that's a good thing.

Of course, that's when they get interrupted by the squawk of the cheap radios that serve for communication until a better system can be sorted out.

"Scout's teams are incoming with ten newbies. She's got the council meeting and wants you and Maggie to settle in the newbies."

He sighs and acknowledges, giving Maggie a rueful smile. She just pops up in her usual cheer, leaving him to take the few minutes he needs post-interruption.

"She's been giving you more responsibility lately."

He sits up and neatens clothing and hair. "I'm just glad she trusts me this much."

Maggie comes back to plant a tender kiss on him. "You've more than earned it."

They get downstairs in time to see the convoy pulling through the gates.

"Is that a helicopter?"

"Yeah."

"This ought to be an interesting orientation."

The four new military vehicles pull to park near their previously appropriated military gear. They still tend to stick to civilian vehicles for runs to draw less attention if spotted. Scout's vehicles hauling propane and related supplies pull further down to be unloaded.

She spots him and angles to cross paths, waving a summoning had toward the ten people dressed in military gear. They come forward, looking around in open curiosity.

"When you said you had a safe haven, Dixon, I was thinking a little walled off community, not this." Glenn catches the lieutenant rank on his fatigues and wonders if having an officer here is going to be a problem. But Scout only smiles, so maybe not.

"Glenn, Maggie, meet our National Guardsmen. I'm going to need you to get them settled in so I can clean up before the meeting." She turns back to the Lieutenant. "Glenn kept a group of just over a dozen people fed and supplied with solo runs into the Atlanta hot zone for nearly two months. He's the authority beyond myself and Shane Walsh on supply runs. Maggie's his partner. They led the team that discovered the building blocks of our little village."

The Guardsmen nod as Scout is summoned away. Once she's gone, Glenn turns to his new charges.

"You're in luck that we just finished most of the housing today as far as being able to move in. Only downside is that the showers aren't working yet while they amp up the water system. I hope you don't mind a bit of a dorm situation for now. Carol will ask some folks to double up if you want more individual housing, but she's going to be in the council meeting so it'll be tomorrow before that can happen."

"We've been sleeping in tents and you're apologizing for beds, electricity, and plumbing?" The man laughs and extends a hand to first Glenn, then Maggie. "I'm guessing you go for informal address here. I'm Thomas Welles."

Glenn shakes his hand. "Yelling Dixon around here will get about ten different people summoned, so first names do tend to be best. It's their family property. Follow me and I'll show you the bunkhouse so you can get your things and settle in. The RVs over there are all vacant, so you can shower there."

"How many people are there here?" Welles asks. Glenn looks to where a few of the nursing home residents are out enjoying the sunshine and overseeing a handful of kids playing soccer in the grassy space between the nursing home and infirmary.

"About 150, before your group," Maggie answers. "Up until today, we were crammed into RVs and doubled or tripled up in the houses, except for the elderly. Their residence was completed first out of necessity, then the community center to feed everyone. Finding these housing containers meant for some migrant farm was a blessing."

They've reached the building designated for the men's bunkhouses and Glenn hesitates. "With three women among you, they have the option for other housing, but we understand if your group prefers not to be split up just yet."

"How far away would we be?" One of the women asks, glancing at the little twelve building village curiously.

"This building is dubbed Pisces. Upstairs are two ten-person bunkhouses and downstairs is a men's washroom with six toilets and six showers. The other unit is a triplex of rooms with no bathrooms or kitchens. All three of those rooms are occupied. The men can take one bunkhouse and the women the other, but the ladies would need to go two buildings down to Scorpio for the closest washroom. Although honestly, no one's going to really kick up a fuss if you all share the washroom here. There aren't any kids in the building, and two of the men are Marines used to close quarters."

"If there's a men's bunkhouse, I'm guessing there's a women's?" Welles asks.

"Yes. It's the Taurus building at the far end of this row. Both of those are empty now because we still had space to spread out when Carol assigned rooms yesterday."

Maggie glances toward the other buildings. "One of the two-person dorm rooms is still open on the ground floor in Scorpio. Joan and Michaela decided to room together."

The two women were the ones that Glenn knew suffered the most under the executed assholes at Grady, so he understands their wish to stay together.

"That'll give two of you a bathroom and galley kitchen. You don't have to cook for yourselves, but it'd leave the option open. The other building residents were all sequestered at a hospital in Atlanta by surviving members of the police department. The former officers are all actually in the building in between here and Scorpio."

Two women exchange a look and grin. "We'll take the dorm room. These are good guys, but we've lived with their B.O. long enough."

"Not sure how to break it to you that you aren't smelling like roses, either, Miriam," one of the men snarks, but it's friendly.

"What about couples?" the third woman asks. She glances toward one of the men, who also seems interested in the answer.

"Ah. That's easier. This row is meant for singles. Everything is set up with bunks with a few exceptions. But the other row is for families and couples. You get a room pretty much identical to the dorm the two ladies are getting, but with a full-size bed. The one next to mine and Maggie's is free."

Maggie helpfully points to the upper level of the Aquarius building right across from Pisces. "Number four. There are two single fathers with teenagers downstairs, so you won't have to sidestep the really small kiddos."

It's the male half of the couple who speaks up to accept, so Glenn motions at the stairs on the Pisces building. "There's five sets of bunks in each, so if you six want to split up for more elbow room, feel free. We could get new residents at any time, or not ever again, so might as well spread out while you can."

Welles directs everyone to grab their gear, and when they meet back where Glenn and Maggie are waiting, Glenn smiles at the anticipation on their tired faces.

"Drop off your stuff and aim for the RVs to shower. There are towels and soap available. You can leave your dirty clothes in the baskets, since they'll know it's your group's since it won't be tagged yet. Supper will start in the community center at seven, but if you're hungry before that, there's usually someone in there who can help you rummage in the leftovers."

The men head up the stairs, splitting off in four and two between the bunkhouses. Maggie leads the two women off to their building while Glenn just waves the couple on their way. He's pretty sure two military trained adults can figure out how to get to a home they can see from here.

The man does pause to introduce himself while his girlfriend heads upstairs. "William Brady, but I prefer Brady. She's Denova. Carlisle for now, until I can convince there's enough of a future in front of us to finally accept my proposal."

"Good luck with that, man."

He grins and trots up the stairs after Denova, leaving Glenn waiting as Maggie comes back down the little roadway between the buildings. From the look on her face, they're about to return to their interrupted christening of their new bed.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol smiles warmly as she takes a seat at one if the empty spots with their newest residents. "I hear that Glenn and Maggie got you all settled in."

The older man pointed out to her as the former lieutenant nods. "They did. And everyone we've encountered has been so friendly. Your family is putting together an amazing community here."

"It has been the effort of many." She slides her notebook on the table. They're trying to develop a process for newcomers, and while she's still reeling a little at her inclusion in the expanded and now formalized council, she intends to do her part. "Everyone has their roles to play."

"And ours?"

"That's what we're about to find out." She clicks her pen and begins her gentle interrogation.

It takes about an hour, and the community center is mostly empty when the Guardsmen leave her sitting thoughtfully at the table. Even the cleaning crew is finished, although Alaina is leading a team to prep for tomorrow's breakfast now that they have room to plan ahead. Carol's really looking forward to the berry French toast bake, especially when she didn't cook it.

Cricket settles into the empty seat opposite her with two mugs and pushes one toward Carol. It smells of rich cocoa and she marvels at how closely all Merle's children notice her preferences, like cocoa instead of the peppermint tea they all seem to adore.

"So, what sort of newbies are we breaking in this time? At least they won't be afraid of weapons."

"A fairly diverse bunch. One couple for certain that took the place next to Glenn and Maggie. He was a web developer and she's a mechanic. He says he knows enough to get us a working network too."

"It would be nice if we didn't have to do everything on paper for the most part. Glenn will be over the moon to clear out a Best Buy."

"As for the others, their leader was a band director also qualified to teach science, so Gail will have company and that'll let Alaina move on to something else. I think she enjoys children in smaller doses than daily for four hours."

Cricket laughs. "I'm surprised she volunteered at all. She might have been a librarian, but she worked at a college library. Small children have never been her forte."

"On the other two women, one is a fitness trainer and the other a CNA. After they get a couple days off and you clear them medically, I'm going to have them rotate in the nursing home staff so G's crew gets some downtime. Miriam speaks Spanish, so that'll help with the residents who aren't bilingual."

"Scout will probably talk the trainer into taking over some of the beginner classes for self-defense. She should be capable with her military background."

"I'll go ahead and do that. What about the other five?"

"Paralegal, special ed paraprofessional, locksmith, security guard, and city parks worker. I'm also about eighty percent certain the security guard and the locksmith are a couple and not admitting it because they're concerned about the reception. They're rooming separately from the other single men, too, but everyone is friendly."

"I'll make sure to drop by with Tara and suss them out. Don't Ask, Don't Tell can be considered obsolete, I think, so they shouldn't feel like they need to keep private if they are a couple. Our world is too risky for that crap."

She fiddles with her mug and Carol figures the conversation she's had with exactly none of Merle's children is about to happen.

"I told Daddy this morning he looks happier than I've seen him in a long time."

Carol smiles, some of her nerves dispensed by the fond tone Cricket uses.

"My only worry is that it's so soon for you, and all the experts before would say you should wait a lot longer. But I've seen a lot of evidence in my lifetime that expertise that works for one person can flop for the next."

She gives Carol a bashful look. "And I know that Tara and I definitely make me a little hypocritical here. It's just that Daddy's been alone for such a long time because he didn't trust a woman around us as much as himself. So, if it doesn't work for you and you need out, just please remember the kids love you too, and they've never had a mama to care for them like you do."

Carol feels tears well up, happy and bittersweet, but blinks them away. No one can miss the easy affection Honey dispenses like sunshine to everyone she cares for, so Carol's never needed a conversation to understand the girl. But Jazz? He's a mystery most days on what he's feeling. It's a serious conversation she needs to have with him.

"I wouldn't walk away from them any more than your father would Sophia," she promises. She wonders it it's overstepping to tell the young woman she feels equally fond of the grown children as well. Maybe that's a conversation for another time.

The brunette finishes off her tea and stands, but pauses before she walks away. "Carol? Ask Daddy about the books on the bottom shelf in his office."

Carol watches her go, trying to remember if she's ever looked at the office bookshelf. Before her new council duties in charge of work roster, housing, and social planning, she didn't have any need to use Merle's laptop, although he suggested she do so tomorrow. She'll have to take a peek on the way to bed tonight.

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle stops short of the bed when he sees Carol's apprehensive expression and the book in her hands. He reminds himself that she's one of the most tender-hearted women he's ever met and goes to sit on the bed so he's facing her.

He reaches out to take the book. "You picked a good one to start with."

"It seemed the most expedient. There's time to read the more technical ones later, if I need to."

"He was ten before he was diagnosed. I think most of his teachers were just glad to have a boy who was quiet and read a lot that they overlooked things, and I certainly didn't have to background to know. Only thing I knew of autism was the severe non-verbal kind that got people sent away for care."

"Sophia had a classmate with Asperger's last year. I never read anything about it until now, though."

"His is mild to moderate, depending on which aspect you're looking at. Most people don't even realize it." He gives her the book back. "I should have said something sooner, so you would be aware, but you sorta just did everything right by instinct."

"Like what?"

"You don't insist on eye contact, louder speech, or physical contact he hasn't initiated. He's better with kids, mostly because they don't take offense as easily as adults. But being a big, athletic kid helps. Had a school counselor try to keep him to non-team sports, which didn't work. She never made the connection that his issues with physical contact in social situations don't apply on the team where there are strict rules and procedures. Boy was a holy terror on the wrestling team, and half the theory says he should abhor a sport that involves grappling strangers when he's got a touch aversion."

"So, I should just treat him as I already do?"

"You're already doing it exactly right." He smiles and leans in for a kiss, grateful her innate nature made her easy for his teenage son to be around.

"I just realized today we never really talked to any of the kids about us."

"About the only one I think might need a conversation would be Jazz, of the three younger ones." He settles into bed. "Honey and Sophia are obviously delighted."

"You took Honey wanting her little place down in the Village well."

"Just had to remind myself we'd have been moving her into the athletic dorms at college this month if the world hadn't turned upside down." He's also really sure that putting her in that particular building will give her several folks to rely on while feeling independent.

She sets the book aside and switches off the lamp, moving close to curl against him. "If we met under different circumstances, do you think you would have trusted me to meet your kids?"

"I like to think I'm smart enough to snap you up under any meeting, but I might have avoided you. Kids love too easily, and you're so easy to fall for," he admits. "I always figured there was plenty of time left once they were all grown."

When she stills, but before he can ask, he realizes what he said and continues. "Think I fell for you at the quarry and was just too thickheaded to realize it til later "

"I'm glad you figured it out because I love you, Merle."

He knew that without the words, because she shows him every day in her sweet care for him and the children and the friends that make up their extended family.

Merle smiles and repeats his own love declaration against her lips.

~*~ TD ~*~

T-Dog answers the knock on his door to find Honey Dixon waiting with one of the barn puppies in her arms. She hands him the dog with a lopsided smile.

"You shouldn't have to give up all your roommates. She's yours to keep. I know housewarming gifts are usually food or plants, but I figured you'd enjoy a dog more."

He's a bit overwhelmed by the unexpected gift. Although he did want one of the puppies, once he learned they were Honey's, he didn't ask. "Thank you. How did you know she's my favorite?"

"Glenn told me. She's not named yet, so you'll need to settle that and get her fully housebroken."

She starts to walk away, not toward the stairs down, but to the place next door.

"This mean we're okay now?"

"Yeah, been better about it for a while and thought I'd let you know, especially since we're neighbors." With a cheery smile, she disappears through her door.

He takes the puppy inside, feeling lighter hearted than he has in a long, long while.


	25. Nothing Without You

**August 24, 2010**

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane glances up at Zach, who is on rooftop guard duty with Danny, plus two of the Grady women. The difference of a month since his first run with the younger man is amazing, because now he truly leads instead of making due. Zach signals all is clear, so Shane returns to helping strap down the load of lumber Merle needs.

The size of their supply teams is larger now, between Grady folks catching up and the influx of the Guardsmen. Only three of the new military asked to take on on-property duty versus off. So today they have seven teams of four, each with a different focus in the big Home Depot, like Danny's lookout team on the roof.

It's also the first time he's been on a separate team from Scout since they arrived at Homestead, but with Rick as his partner and Jamie as hers, they're both good. He's got two teams down here loading lumber, while Scout has on the opposite side loading all the garden supplies. Arthur and Lenore Eldridge want greenhouses built.

The third set of teams is under Rachel's leadership, which surprised Shane, since he initially expected Scout to select the military trained marshal. But he has to admit that the woman is far more comfortable leading than Tim will ever be. The former sniper is on Glenn's separate run today, back to the area they found the containers to clear out more of the restaurant supply store.

Rick wipes sweat away from his face with a bandana and grimaces as they wait on T-Dog to pull the now fully loaded flatbed semi away so that Maria can pull the next one up near the contractor entrance.

"Maybe you should shave that mess off, brother. August in Georgia ain't the best time for facial hair."

His best friend makes a face, but shrugs. They both take time in the short break to drink. It's only nine in the morning, and the heat is already enough to bake them. "Wanted one for years and couldn't for regulations sake. Not gonna give up because of a little heat. Besides, it isn't unpopular with the ladies."

"They just like that it makes you look like a grown man instead of a college kid like you do clean shaven." Shane's grateful they still have this ability to tease, because waiting on Rick to settle his mind and come back to their friendship is second only to the coma for worrying about his best friend.

At least Rick took his advice about playing the field a little. The other man isn't accepting the all the offers that come his way, but he's admitted to two separate no-strings encounters so far. Sasha didn't surprise him because he suggested it himself, but Katherine from the Grady group did. Woman does look good for her age, but she has eighteen years on Rick.

Rick laughs. "Looking my age is a good thing nowadays."

Shane glances back into the building, where their secondary team is loading two forklifts, glad the area has stayed relatively free of walkers so far. They haven't seen any large herds other than the one Daryl's teams encountered. Maybe their systematic methods of clearing areas they are harvesting supplies in is paying off.

"Hey, Rick, can I ask you a real serious question?"

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol slides her hands across the surface of the desk and smiles.

"You like it?" Merle sounds almost hesitant, and that's enough to make her look up. He's leaned against the door frame, and it looks casual, but he isn't as relaxed as he appears.

"It's perfect. I only objected because I didn't think an office should take priority, not that I didn't want you to provide one."

He relaxes and comes over to lean against the desk after claiming a kiss. "No sense in you having to dash back and forth between the main house and community center, plus you've got assistants now."

When she initially gave in to the idea, Merle had the three office trailers his company owned hauled on property. One is parked down with the military vehicles pending some future use. Another is set up near the equipment barn to host a combo of the construction and supply run planning.

But the third is now installed to one side of the main entry to the community center, with a bathroom facility brought from the container company installed to provide men and women's restrooms for the center on the other side. While she initially thought she would use it as it came from being used on Merle's larger construction projects, she found herself locked out for two days while it was redone in what should have been evening downtime for Merle and several of the kids.

Now it looks like any regular three-person office, except for the cheery paint job throughout that includes a mural dominating one wall of her private office space. The other two desks are in a shared space, and although four people will share the area, Carol doesn't expect they'll run into too much overlap.

"It still feels like I'm taking over Patricia's place."

"I think you should consider yourself her successor, not her replacement. And she stepped back for happy reasons."

Carol has to agree they are happy reasons. Lori's pregnancy news had held the potential for drama. Patricia's, when she finally announced it three days later, is bittersweet. Her husband, Otis, died back on the Greene Farm. In twenty-one years of marriage, they remained childless. Now at forty-three, Patricia is going to be a first-time mother. Combined with her three fosterlings, she decided less stress was for the best.

He reaches out to cup her cheek, and she can't resist leaning into the touch as he speaks again. "Darlin', people are going to look up to you here with what we're building here. Just think of yourself as a mama with an insane level of ducklings. Just because we all enjoyed Drill Sergeant Patricia doesn't mean you have to emulate her."

"I suppose you're right." The job needs to be done, and few others have the personality for it.

"Besides, the way our smart-ass family keeps calling me Mufasa, that makes you Sarabi."

She laughs. Cricket started it, but it caught on with all the other Dixons, who found it hilarious. Sophia and Honey even taught little Andy to call Merle that. He responded by digging some of his kids' old toys out of the attic and gifting the toddler with a full set of Lion King plushies.

"I'm just glad Daryl has no ambitions to become Scar then."

That earns her an amused kiss as he bids her farewell to return back to overseeing the foundation work for their first actual warehouse.

She looks around the office again. The desk is from the mobile office, but she's pretty sure Honey cleared out most of Merle's permanent office at the construction company and relocated it here. The kids decorating explains the giant dark red bean bags set up as visitor chairs. There are at least a half dozen of them in the house that usually migrate to the living room for movies.

"They really went all out in here for you," Jacqui says, stepping inside and turning to inspect the wall above the bean bags. "Who did the photos?"

"The kids did the frames. Jazz did the photos."

The photo frames are why the adults were banned from the basement last night. She hasn't spent a lot of time down there, so she didn't realize there was a fairly stocked craft closet that Merle waved off as the girls' various hobbies collecting up. The rustic recycled wood is actually scraps collected up from building projects.

But the black and white photos make her want to sit down with Jazz for the significance. Some are obviously new, like the shot of Carol and Merle laughing while they tidy up the dishes after supper. There's one of Sophia leaning against Daryl on the back deck swing, the girl watching intently as Daryl fletches bolts. But a few of the shots are older, ones Jazz probably didn't take himself, but chose from his collection of negatives. Honey can't be more than ten in hers, long hair braided while she draws her bow.

"They're wonderful. I guess I thought film photography was a dying art for his generation. Makes me miss my old photography class from high school. And the mural?"

"I'm not sure who all painted it, but the chibi animals make me think Sophia came up with it."

"It's adorable. Plenty of visual stress relief if you need it. But I came by to ask if you can rotate me and Jim off duty for a day or two. He's having a rough patch, bad enough I sent Hershel to him."

Hershel would have let her know tonight, so Jacqui must need to talk. She gets up to hug her friend. "Is there anything I can do?"

Jacqui is quiet in her arms for a bit. "Just cross your fingers he follows through on taking the meds Hershel gave him. I think he's finally grieving, now that he's in a safe place to do it. He confirmed to me last night that the walkers got his wife and both boys. Hershel says it's grief combined with a lot of survivor's guilt."

"If there's anything he wants or needs and we can provide it, let me know."

Jacqui agrees as she pulls away, brushing away tears. "Can you slot him in for teaching some mechanics classes? He had more life to him when he was teaching the teenagers how do redo that vehicle wiring at the quarry."

"I can do that. Should have plenty of apprentices for it too."

"Thank you. I'm going to go grab some drinks for our fridge and head back to sit with him."

She gives Carol a hug before leaving, passing Lori and Abby on the way out. As Lori gravitates to the desk on the far side of the main office, Abby trots into Carol's area and drops her backpack between the desk and bean bags before flopping face first onto one and sighing happily.

"You having a good day, Miss Abby?"

"Yup. Gonna do my science workbook in a minute. Miz Lori says if I don't do it before lunch, no sweets."

Abby is doing better, but still unwilling to attend the morning school session, so Carol and Lori are just having her do the lessons as she spends time with either of them. Maybe she'll see about a little desk for Abby.

Carol turns to the computer and the stack of handwritten notes she needs to organize, but her eyes are drawn to the photos one last time.

She reminds herself to spend some time with their selector, because the sole photo with Jazz is one where he's sitting in the floor during a movie, back pressed to Merle and Carol's legs. He has his long legs stretched out in front of him and Abby's sprawled across his lap. Honey's legs are alongside his at enough of an angle she has her ankles laid atop his shins, and Sophia is sound asleep using Honey's thigh as a pillow. Carol isn't sure who took the picture, but she's glad they caught such a large chunk of their family together.

He might not express his feelings verbally, shrugging off the conversation and just accepting her place in his father's life, but she suspects the image of what's most certainly his way of cuddling says all that she needs to hear.

~*~ SW ~*~

They've loaded all they can for this trip, and Shane thinks there'll be two more trips just for lumber. Scout's teams cleared out what is salvageable from the garden center, though, thanks to two fully loaded semi-trailers. They've even used the sleeper units of the truck cabs of both his four trucks and her four to transport the trees and plants that managed to survive thanks to an automated irrigation system.

Everyone is loading up under the early afternoon sun when a terrified scream rings out. The watch group on the roof responds by jogging to the far side of the roof, since the scream came from somewhere near the Target that shares the property.

The three team leaders' teams assemble around Shane, Scout, and Rachel. The others meld up into the driver's seats, ready to pull out if it's a herd instead of humans.

Danny's voice comes over the throat radios. "Human assholes, not dead ones. They got some folks cornered near the far corner of the Target. I can make the shot from here, but there's seven of them against a group of five and none look like fighters."

"You and Zach keep them covered while we work our way around," Scout orders.

"There's a big delivery truck that'll cover most of your approach. You can probably make the closer side of the building and circle behind them."

"Rachel? I want your team to stay on this side of things. Make your way as close as you can under cover."

The marshal nods and splits off her people when the rest of them jog around the huge building. Halfway down the back, she stops by the cardboard compactor's dumpster and turns to Jamie.

"Take the two Atlanta cops and Brady and cover from the roof." The tall Marine nods, climbing the dumpster and using a grapple hook to reach the roof. His team follows, leaving the two of them, Rick, and T-Dog to continue.

Scout slows them as they reach the rear corner that's completely blind to Danny. She checks the corner before signaling everyone forward again.

These assholes are stupid. Shane can see three with their backs to the strip of side parking lot that now holds Shane's group. He can only see one other from here, and the man's turned away. He's older, bearded with long grey hair.

One of the idiots has the only woman in the group held tight against him, ill intent obvious from her ripped shirt. The two others have ahold of teenagers, one kid weeping openly. The other men Danny mentioned are kneeling, their postures signaling they are probably at gunpoint from the unseen men.

Shane hates how exposed they are, but it's not the first time he's had to do something like this. At least it's not just him and Rick outnumbered against meth heads like that one time. The unseen trio will be easy pickings from the roof.

He figures out why the long-haired man is distracted when he hears a shopping cart go careening across the parking lot and Rachel call out, "Oops, how clumsy of me," in a singsong voice.

She steps out into view from behind a pickup, and all eyes are on her, even the hostages. She's stripped down to a plain white tank top over her cargo pants, no weapons in sight, the image of a helpless female.

Too bad for these assholes she's likely as vicious and deadly as Scout when need be.

As if they rehearsed it, he, Scout, and Rick each step forward to put a gun to the hostage holders' heads, and Rachel draws her gun from the back of her waistband.

"Might want to let these good people go, assholes." They all stiffen at his words, and Shane's target seems to have some inkling of self-preservation because he actually releases the crying boy immediately and shoves him away. T-Dog snatches the boy back and behind them.

"Well, seems like we got a case of the stupids going on. I told you to let these people go."

Rick's target releases the other boy after a tap of his brother's gun to the back of the skull. The boy scrambles to safety behind them without prompting.

"Which of you assholes is in charge?" Scout asks. He wonders if the man in front of her realizes he's only escalating his punishment.

The long-haired man answers. "Me. This don't hafta come to blows. Plenty to go around, for those who know how to _claim_ it."

Shane refrains from laughing. Idiot hasn't seemed to cotton to Scout being a woman, between the lower pitch of her voice and the fact that she's actually at least two inches taller than the man under her gun. The head wraps are showing their value.

"I think you might want to have your men lower their guns before mine on the roof here and at the Depot decide to make them."

The self-declared leader glances upward and definitely loses some of his swagger. He orders his men to drop their guns. "These ones ain't worth dying for."

As soon as the guns are down, the two kneeling men ease to their feet. T-Dog draws them away, which leaves just the woman in danger.

Apparently, the man holding her isn't entirely braindead. "Soon as I let her go, we're dead men. Can't risk bullet might go through me."

He must think he's won when Scout's gun leaves the back of his head.

One of the rescued men mutters, "They were going to rape them and torture us for fun."

"That true?" Shane asks.

The leader shrugs. "World's survival of the fittest now."

"I suppose it is," Scout replies. "But our definitions of who's fit to live are wildly different."

Then she demonstrates why she lowered the gun when she slits the hostage taker's throat. Shane fires as soon as he sees the knife move. Rick's split second of hesitation means the guy gets an elbow to Rick's cheekbone. Rick goes down, but T-Dog puts a bullet in the man before he can do any further damage or run.

Other shots have rung out, and Scout's standing over the leader with knife in hand as he bleeds out. None of the others are standing, and Shane makes sure the first man to get his throat slit isn't able to turn. One of the men coaxes their blood covered female companion away from the bodies.

"Good thinking on the distraction," Shane calls out to Rachel, whose team is out in the open now. Rick's back on his feet, but he's going to have a hell of a shiner.

She shrugs. "Working the marshal service in Kentucky teaches you to think fast on your feet."

"Why don't you and your team help these folks get sorted out while we clear out the trash. No sense leaving them blocking the store entrance," Scout suggests. She taps her radio. "Rooftops, keep an eye out in case the gunfire attracts the dead or more of these jackals. Once we move the dead, we need to grab her some clothes if we can access the Target."

Rachel rounds up her new charges, who allow themselves to be herded away and questioned gently.

They're joking around while using the beat-up delivery van as a body mover and just loading the last body when Rick's got his gun in his hand, calling out, "Movement in the entrance. Opening the doors, so not a walker."

Everyone falls back to partial cover and waits on the person to emerge.

She's highly unlikely to be part of the group they just got rid of, since he can't see a woman fitting in. She's tall and appears unarmed until he spots the sword hilt.

"One of you named Dixon?" she calls out, voice sounding of it's been unused a long time.

Scout looks curious and steps forward to get a clear view. "Michonne? Holy shit."

The woman who Scout obviously recognizes takes a few steps closer. "Your family?"

"All good. Yours?"

Michonne gives a short jerk of her head, looking grief stricken.

"Oh hell, I'm so sorry."

"Was just wandering. Kept heading north, but couldn't bring myself to find out for sure. He tried to get me to come to your place, but I let Terry talk me into the refugee center."

"Well, Daddy will never forgive me if I don't bring you home."

Michonne nods slowly.

Shane is starting to think they're going to need an even bigger property if they keep finding lost sheep, but he's not complaining.

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle's waiting when Scout's run returns. She slides from the cab of the truck and steps away to let Michonne exit behind her. His daughter already radioed ahead about the horrific news that his friend's lost her family.

He holds his arms wide and hopes she'll accept the comfort.

She hesitates and he drops his arms, not wanting to push. But when Honey yells her name, the woman allows the weeping embrace, petting at his girl's hair.

Once Honey has control of herself again, she tugs Michonne toward the house. Maybe the best balm for the woman's wounded soul is the affection of another child she loves. It doesn't replace her lost boy, but any anchor helps.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol puts the plate of food in front of their newest resident, who looks at the scrambled eggs and toast along with a bottle of Boost with more than a little disbelief. Cricket sent word on her physical that Michonne is near dangerously malnourished, so they're starting slow and small.

"Trust that crazy old redneck to still have eggs and bread in the damned apocalypse."

Merle laughs from where he's leaned against the counter. "All the eggs you can enjoy, my Nubian Queen."

Michonne points her fork at him. "Don't make me stab you, old man."

But she smiles just a little, which Carol thinks is the point of the comment.

Still unsure of how the two know each other, other than that she also knows Honey, at least, Carol busies herself by washing the egg pan.

"You've been busy here."

"Had to. Should be further along, but I spent about two months outta my head on coke til the kids wandered up out of Florida and knocked sense into me."

"That was one reason I was afraid to come here. Didn't want to know if they never made it home."

"I'm glad you recognized Scout then."

"I don't know that I can stay behind walls again."

"Then join a run team. Plenty of time on the road. You crossed paths with Scout today for a reason."

She's silent for a moment, eating listlessly on her eggs. "When did the thing start with her and the cop? Figured she'd end up a lifelong bachelorette."

"Guess the apocalypse shifted her gears. He's a good man. Rounds out her rough edges, same as she does for him."

"Like you and the lady there?"

Carol startles at the assessment and turns as she dries her hands. Neither she nor Merle have even interacted in front of her.

Michonne shrugs and takes a bite of toast.

Merle reaches out to tug Carol to him with a grin. "Never underestimate Michonne's powers of observation. Many an opponent came to regret that in her days as a lawyer."

"You just say that because I made that subcontractor who sabotaged your project cry on the stand when you sued him."

"Hell, woman, that jackass sobbing was almost better than the restitution he had to pay."

"You going to introduce her or do I need to keep thinking of her as the woman too good for my hillbilly friend and help her wise up?"

Merle guffaws. "Carol, this is Michonne, who wrested my account from those older and lazier about six years ago back when she was a first-year associate and proceeded to assist me in many wealthy endeavors. Michonne, this is Carol, Mama Bear for the whole shebang here now."

Michonne actually offers a hand, which Carol shakes, feeling a little off kilter. So, this is the woman Honey once wanted for Merle...

"You're good for him," she says at last. "His grin isn't so full of bullshit anymore."

Carol smiles as Merle kisses her temple, still keeping her tucked close.

The front door slams and toddler feet pound across the living room. "Mufasa, I wanna go see the goats."

Andy stumbles to halt, gaping at Michonne.

"Mommy?"

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane leads Scout down the incline past the pond. They've technically invaded the sheep pen, but the docile animals paid them little attention. The big Anatolian dog barely notices them, too used to people in her pasture by now. He doesn't see the male, which is probably how the dogs are trained.

"Where are we going?" Scout asks. "We're going to get eaten by mosquitoes down here."

"You'll see." He grins at her, near vibrating from excitement and nerves. They pass through the gate into the unused field closest to the river.

He knows when she's spotted the little tent lit with solar powered fairy lights. He owes Cricket and Tara big time for their help. He came up with the idea, but they implemented it for him.

When he unzips the tent, he realizes they really went all out. His tent doesn't look much like it did at the quarry, cluttered and careworn. The air mattress is piled high with soft bedding, and the floor level table is covered in a variety of finger foods that they both enjoy.

Scout arches a brow, but looks pleased at the unexpected romantic gesture. "I see why you weren't worried about mosquitoes bow."

She tugs him in for a kiss before leading him to the table. She samples a few of the blackberries and offers him a piece of melon before curiosity wins out.

"Is this a special occasion? It's not my birthday for another month."

He nips at her fingers playfully before finishing his bit of melon. He shushes his nerves, remembering this morning's reassurance from Rick.

"I know it's been barely a month, but I've never been sure of or wanted someone more in my entire life. And I know in our world, formality may mean less than it did before, but I want it. I dream of it."

He takes both her hands, taking time to kiss each palm tenderly.

"Formality?"

She knows now. He can see it in her eyes, and she's smiling.

"Wanna make me the happiest formerly romance challenged man in the world?"

His answer nearly upsets the table, as she's astride him and kissing him so thoroughly he completely forgets he has something to give her. She finally lets them breathe, kissing along his throat and cheeks.

"That a yes?" he drawls softly.

She laughs and sits up to look down at him. "It's a yes."

He reaches under his shirt collar, where he's had the necklace on all day alongside his own. When it's laying against his shirt, he releases the clasp while she studies it and reaches out with an unsteady hand. She holds it cupped in her hand for so long he thinks he miscalculated and she really expected a ring.

"It's beautiful," she manages at last. "How did you manage this? It's custom work."

"Found the bobcat bones hunting rabbits with Daryl about a week ago. I gave him the bone and he had the beads and he etched the bone."

She dangles the necklace in front of her, touching first the beads worked into the cord and then the bone pendant with the words etched in reddish orange to match the spiny oyster beads.

She reaches for his hands and directs him to help her put it on. It falls just below her collarbones, words he practiced with Cricket and Daryl across it.

"Tåya' yo' sin hågu."

She smiles at his words, and he glories in bringing that much joy to the woman he loves as he strips them both bare. The tent that housed their first explorations now hosts them as he kisses across her skin as if for the first time. When he kisses around the pendant, he finds himself rolled as she rises above him, and he delights in this view as well, that flicker of ivory and ochre above her breasts as she moves against him reminding him she's pledging him this forever.

~*~ DD ~*~

The Dixon brothers sit in the living room, hearing Carol and Michonne's voices as they ready the office futon for Andre and his mother to sleep on.

"Can't believe we had 'Chonne's boy with us all this time and didn't know it," Daryl says. "Been nearly two years since I saw him last, but you had them up here at Honey's graduation." Which Daryl missed providing backup to some clueless feds chasing drugs that came in off the coast through the backwoods.

Merle shakes his head. "He wasn't with her that trip. Off at his grandma's. So, I hadn't seen him since Christmas, and even then, wasn't for long. His daddy was never that fond of me hanging around. I knew the boy was getting attached to me, but I thought it was wishful thinking and the name wasn't quite right. I couldn't imagine Michonne dead, which is the only way I could have imagined her separate from her baby."

"Well, if I didn't believe in guardian angels before, I do now," Daryl mutters.

Merle agrees and bids him good night.

He makes his way up to the room he's still sharing with Lori and Abby, hoping the woman's asleep, but knowing she won't be. She seems to have to see him settle in before she does for the night. He isn't finding it as irritating as he once did, when he always bit his tongue not to exchange harsh words with a pregnant woman.

He's right that she's awake, although he's amazed to see that Abby's in the top bunk for the first time. Lori lets her book rest on her chest and gives him a faint smile.

"She asked to try the bunk tonight. I don't figure she'll stay all night, but it's progress toward you shaking free of me, I suppose."

"Ain't like it's a hardship," he says, going through his bedtime routine. He realizes she's watching him through the open bathroom door as he brushes his teeth and stops to quirk an eyebrow at her.

"Sorry. Your tattoos just caught my attention."

He touches his fingers to his chest, where Abigail is scrawled across his heart. He got it when she was taken away from him, needing the daily reminder. The devils on his back... well, those weren't up for discussion with her.

But she returns to her book and he finishes up in peace.

He's almost asleep when she taps the lamp off.

"Thank you for teaching Carl," she says softly once they're in the dark. "Seems he's spending more time with you and Shane than his dad. He couldn't tell me enough about fishing and learning to drive the boat."

"He's a curious kid. Liked hearing about me making arrests on the water a little too much. Don't think he realized rangers gotta patrol the lakes _and_ the woods."

"Which part did you like more, the woods or the water?"

"I had five counties plus Lake Oconee and five rangers to cover them in, one of them greener than spring grass. I wish someone told me if they tell you to attend Command College, be afraid. They're going to promote you. Although at least as a ranger, you ain't gotta keep your butt parked behind a desk all the time.". He thinks over her question. "Never thought I'd say it, but I think I did like the water better. More helping people there, stranded boaters and such."

She's quiet long enough he thinks she fell asleep until she laughs. It lacks the tension of the almost forced laugh she had at the quarry, and the part of him that's starting to believe she cares for Abby is glad.

"What's so funny?"

"Just thinking that's the most I've ever heard you say at once."

He snorts. "Go to sleep, woman."

She laughs again and settles, leaving him to ponder the oddity of what he thinks might be friendship growing between them.


	26. Homestead Farm Days

**August 29, 2010**

~*~ LG ~*~

Lori covers her yawn, but Abby sees it and giggles. They're trundling down to the sheep pasture in the dawn light in the Polaris, along with Jazz, Carl, Beth, and Sophia, who all look in various stage of awake. She could point out the farm girl easily, since Beth is the only one as alert as Jazz and Abby. Jazz is driving down the narrow gravel road slowly so the pair of blue heelers following can keep up.

Her morning jaunt to observe with the sheep is due to a combination of actual curiosity and wishing to make some sort of connection with the still-aloof Jazz. He's fast becoming her son's best friend on the property, and Abby adores the boy maybe even more than her own father. When Carol asked Jazz yesterday what he wanted for supper on his birthday today, he asked for moussaka and bourekia before digging out a cookbook and locating a container each of anari and halloumi cheese from the basement fridge with shy smile.

Hearing a teenager explain he made the cheese and can make plenty more if Carol uses it up made Lori curious about the process. She's made homemade mozzarella before, so she asked if it was similar. Thus, today's field trip, where apparently Jazz's little "hobby farm" of sheep, as Merle termed them, is actually a flock of seventy ewes, their lambs, and three rams. The boy's always up so early in the morning because he comes down every day to milk the ewes. By himself.

"Why such a big group today if you normally do the milking yourself?" she asks.

He shrugs a little, unlatching the gate to let them in the small pasture that holds the sheep barn. "We have to get the ram lambs separated today, because they're getting too old to stay with their mamas. They start to try to cross breed after three months, and these lambs were born in June while I was gone. Gage looked after them for me, but he didn't milk them, just let the babies have it all, which was fine."

The two dogs dart forward to the next gate, waiting patiently. Lori's still not sure how many dogs are actually on the two properties, other than they're all friendly enough. These two, if she heard Jazz correctly, are Betty and Wilma. They lope out into the field, rounding up the sheep with careful precision, helped along as Beth shakes a can of feed at the far end of the little alley between the paddocks.

"We helped him move the other sheep to the new pastures yesterday and put up the electric netting between the mamas and babies," Carl explains as Sophia and Jazz remove the netting Carl mentioned to let the lambs access the full pasture again. "So, it's just the ones with lambs that are ready to leave their mamas in there right now."

The scene of organized chaos slowly sorts itself out, with about two dozen ewes ending up in a paddock that borders one side of the barn.

"Now comes the fun part," Jazz says. "Remember, the boys are the ones with the blue numbers sprayed on their back. Make the girls stay behind and we'll let them join the others tomorrow."

Lori makes sure she stays out of her way, but really wishes she had a camera or video of the entertainment that follows. Beth and Jazz manage to capture their little ram lambs with the ease of practice, but Sophia and Carl have a few mishaps with errant, confused lambs. But soon enough thirty lambs are in the paddock that borders the one they were already in, while only twelve female lambs remain behind. All the lambs are complaining at the fence about their missing mothers.

"This is a lot of sheep," Lori remarks. She leans over the paddock fence and grins when one of the little males is perfectly happy to get a head scratch, while Beth is urging half the sheep into one side of the barn with Carl and Sophia's help.

"Katahdin ewes have twins and triplets. I've even had quadruplets, but it starts risking bottle feeding or passing off a lamb to an ewe with fewer babies at that point. The ram lambs will stay in pastures bordering their mamas for about a week before I move them elsewhere. Makes weaning easier on them."

"And the females?"

"Those will stay in with their mamas for another two months. Normally, these ewes would be bred again next, but since I wasn't here in June, I've got a different flock that I'll breed now that missed their normal breeding point and let these spend a little more time raising their ewe lambs since I'm going to keep all the ewe lambs this time. Normally I would sell all but maybe two.

"They aren't very wooly?"

"When I wanted my first sheep for a 4H project, Dad said I had to use hair sheep, because he wasn't shearing a bunch of smelly critters for wool I wouldn't really want to market anyway. Plus, most wool sheep don't do well in humid climates like Georgia. These come from a breed that's from the tropics."

"How old were you?" She's guessing young, if Merle's concerned about needing to help when Jazz seems fully independent with his sheep.

"Ten. It was when we came back from visiting Scout in Cyprus. We liked the lamb dishes and Dad figured at least I wasn't asking for calves like Honey did for her project at the same age. Each of those little miniature Jerseys cost as much as an entire flock of my sheep."

She follows him as he heads for the barn. She realizes the part they've entered is separate from the rest of the barn and realizes it's the milking parlor when she sees the other three kids setting up sheep with the simple lure of dumping food in to the feeding mangers and letting each ewe hop up. There are six little stalls on either side, so she figures that's why some of the ewes were gated off from entering. They're obviously used to the process, as a couple of those have their head over the half-door to baa about being outside still.

He's very patiently explaining to Sophia and Carl how to clean their sheep's udders and hook up the milking machine. When Lori steps forward to help, the teenager actually makes eye contact for a brief moment when he smiles and steps over to hook up the next ewe while Lori slowly works her way through the process. All in all, in the time that Lori, Carl, and Sophia have six sheep ready, Jazz and Beth have finished the other six and are readying the equipment. Each helper is handed a milking bucket contraption and Jazz demonstrates how to hook up the equipment.

"You can milk by hand, but since it's just me, this is just a lot faster."

It takes about two minutes each sheep to be milked. As they unhook the sheep, Jazz explains to his three newbie helpers that it would take a little longer with goats or even a dairy sheep breed, but the katahdins are more known for having lots of lambs than producing a lot of milk. But as he empties out what the six sheep produced into the machine that looks like it refrigerates the milk somehow, Lori sees that Sophia has noted a little over two gallons of milk on the clipboard. It seems like a lot of work for what she knows will only produce just over a two pounds of cheese, but perhaps as a byproduct it makes sense.

The six sheep are released, and Beth lures in the other twelve, although Jazz calls out a reminder not to milk three of them.

"Is there a reason?" Lori asks.

"One of them lost their only lamb and another didn't conceive, so they don't have any milk. But I always let the ones without lambs come up and share in the snack." He reaches out to fondly rub at the cheeks of one spotted ewe. "And McGonagall here, she's old enough that I don't breed her more than once a year. She's just the boss of the bunch for now."

She thinks it's rather sweet and wonders how she ever thought the boy is older than he is. The remaining nine sheep go equally as well, adding another two full gallons to the tally. Everyone scrubs up at the sink.

"You do this every morning?" Carl asks, sounding a little incredulous at the idea of getting up every day for this.

"Well, I could miss a day if I wanted to, since the lambs will just drink the extra milk. I usually keep it staggered though, so normally I'd have lambs almost year-round. You'll get to help me oversee the lambing later next month for the ones that are pregnant right now. But we'll have a gap in babies. Normally, I would have bred the third flock in July."

"And you have forty or fifty lambs each time?" The number is a little staggering to Lori.

"Thereabouts. They usually have twins, sometimes triplets. I don't milk the triplet mamas, and sometimes we lose lambs. There were forty-five born in this flock in June while I was gone, so we lost three. The young one lost hers, and we lost one each out of sets of twins. On the lambs I had before school ended, there are thirty-four left from the April-born lambs and ten from last August. Those are the ones you see up in the pastures by the house with the horses and mini-cows. And we have lambs due next month."

They're back outside, with Jazz carrying the box with the quarts of yesterday's milk and sitting it in the back of the Polaris. They put the mother ewes back in the pasture with the female lambs. The poor males bleat anxiously in their paddock.

"What will happen to the ram lambs?" Carl asks.

Jazz gives him the sort of sideways glance that tells Lori he's not entirely sure Carl will like the answer. "Well, I won't risk this many non-castrated rams on the property with so many kids around, since I'm going to have to start using mobile paddocks to avoid overgrazing. So, these will be castrated this week, and then I'm going to start using them as lawnmowers round the property until they're old enough to be butchered."

Carl grimaces a little, but probably not as much as he would have months ago when all he really knew about the meat on the table was that she bought it at the supermarket and that he preferred pork to chicken.

"And the older lambs?" Lori asks, curious.

"They're six months old and almost nine months now. Normally, a portion of any flock ends up in our own freezers. You've seen those downstairs right?" Everyone nods, and Lori understands the reasoning for commercial level freezers in the basement a bit better now. "I used to split it with the Eldridges, and we get pork from their pigs in exchange, just like I traded milk and cheese for veggies. I used to sell them at market for ethnic and religious holidays. I would probably have sold almost all my lambs in September for the end of Ramadan and Rosh Hashanah."

"Does that mean we're going to eat them all right now?" Sophia asks, looking mildly disturbed. Lori can relate, just a little. She's not much better than Carl, in the reality of where her meat came from. She enjoyed lamb chops before... when she didn't think about the fuzzy faces like she could now.

"No, just the older ten, which are what I have left from what sold for Easter and Passover dinners. While there's a market for sixty-pound lambs normally because of the holidays, I rather wait until they're closer to a hundred pounds, so the other twenty-four will be in December and the ones from today in February, most likely. Today's probably would have ended up Christmas lambs before, though."

"How much meat per lamb?" Beth asks. She's been so self-assured about helping Jazz with the animals that Lori forgot that Hershel raised cattle, so sheep might be mostly new to her as well.

"If you wait until they're about a hundred pounds, about forty-five pounds of meat. That's usually around nine months for a Katahdin ram lamb, maybe a little older for a wether or ewe lamb. There are sheep that get bigger faster, because they're bigger when full-grown, but those breeds don't do well at all here in the heat and humidity due to parasites. It's not a lot of meat, compared to cattle, but a lot easier to raise and on less land. And we'll be able to tan the hides too. Arthur and Lenore have a little building down on their farm for it. People used to bring all sorts of hides to them."

"I do have one weird question," Sophia says. "What is with the weird triangles in between all the paddocks?"

Jazz laughs so softly Lori isn't sure it's laughter at first. "Dog jump gates. The sheep can't usually make it through because their legs don't maneuver correctly to step through the vee part. But the guardian dogs can. Dad got tired of the dogs scaling the fences when they were patrolling. But that's why I closed off the one between the ram lamb paddock and their mamas, because lambs are more likely to figure it out." He glances at his watch. "If we don't get back soon, they're going to run out of breakfast."

That gets everyone loaded up and Lori is thoughtful on the way back. She knows Jazz also helps with the other animals, many in makeshift corrals, that Arthur and Lenore collected from lost neighbors so they wouldn't starve. Right now, the property has everything short of cattle and pigs, she thinks, of the common farm animals, and the Eldridges already raised a good number of pigs as part of their farm. There's a truly impressive amount of poultry that roam inside the two larger pastures during the day and the coop's been expanded twice that Lori's seen, because somehow out of all the farm animals in Georgia, poultry seems to survive best and longest without human help. The supply run groups just keep collapsible dog crates in their trucks now.

She doesn't think Jazz has left the property since they arrived. For the first time she wonders if that's because he wants to stay behind from the supply runs he was part of in Atlanta, or if everyone's just left him with too much responsibility to feel like he can leave.

When they arrive back at the main house, she decides maybe it's time to ask a few more questions of Carol than she has about work schedules.

~*~ MD ~*~

"If we don't stop having these emergency builds, I'm going to yank out what hair I got left."

Carol just laughs at him from where she's exchanging the water cooler at their latest build. "At least this one doesn't have to have a foundation?"

"Trust Glenn to find an actual rabbit farm still up and running and people willing to relocate only if the bunnies do too." Merle and Hershel both were fetched when that alert came in on the radio. The vet only asked if Merle thought they could spare time from the warehouse to build a barn for the rabbits, then offered to go out with the other teams sent to provide more haulage and extra hands for dissembling a rabbitry with nearly 700 rabbits. Luckily it was an off day for Scout and Shane's teams, so in addition to Glenn's two already on the farm, they now sent seven more teams of four, plus Hershel.

So now Merle's building a rabbit barn, grateful these folks at least had stacking cages so he's not needing two of the damned things, and they're going to have a lot of bunnies out in the weather for the better part of the week. He briefly considered just converting the warehouse, but the place is going to end up enough of a chaotic hodgepodge without dumping farm animals all over the place, and might as well keep the rabbit barn near the other barn, supply wise.

"Be nice to have all the rabbit meat that no one has to chase through the woods though, and Lenore looked about deliriously happy talking about rabbit manure at lunch."

"That woman's obsession with manure is a little off-putting." Not that Merle blamed her really, since it was part of her livelihood. "Just wait til she has to truck in the manure Jazz composts for her from his sheep and the other critters."

Carol's expression shifts to worried as soon as he mentions his son, and Merle glances down to where Jazz is talking rather animatedly with Miguel as they work together to set one of the support poles. The young Vato has spent all his extra time not needed to help his cousin in the nursing home on Merle's building projects. He thinks it's the first time the teenager has ever been able to work with his hands on something other than a car, and the boy's good at it, just like Jazz.

"Something up with Jasper?" he asks softly, concerned about that little furrow in Carol's brow.

She sighs a little. "Lori came to me with some concerns about him being overworked. She thinks we need to set a more formal schedule for the teenagers than just letting them volunteer for whatever crew and rotating a few through kitchen and laundry duty. I asked around, after she talked to me, and I guess I thought the other kids were helping him a lot more than they are, but apparently, he's doing the majority of the animal care on this side of things himself. Normally, that might not be terrible, but he's on your building crews as often as he can be too, and Lori says he's helped her hang laundry twice this week and he has done breakfast prep at least twice too. Carl and Sophia both say that in the evenings, when I thought he was playing games with the other kids, he's sitting with them, but usually with a textbook making notes."

Merle rubs at his chin, studying Jazz for a moment. The teenager doesn't look overly tired, as Merle's seen him get sometimes when he's been burning the candle at both ends, especially during football season. But he also knows if they don't keep an eye on it, Jazz has a hard time setting limits for himself if he thinks someone needs his help. "I'll have a talk with him soon as he and Miguel finish that post."

"And I'm going to set a work schedule for each of the teenagers to rotate through the chores, so that the less appealing ones don't get skimped on by letting the softer hearted kids take on extra days on them."

He reaches out to draw her in for a half hug and kiss, smiling when she doesn't draw away from the fact that he's dusty and sweaty in the late August heat. "Him working on his birthday didn't strike me as much different than his norm. Glad he's got a lot more people keeping an eye out for him now. Speaking of kids, where are Sophia and Abby?" Normally a new project like this, Sophia would be in the thick of things, and with Daryl and Jazz here helping posts, it's doubly odd that Sophia's out of sight.

"Honey borrowed both girls for a project, which I suspect involves something for Jazz's birthday later."

"Hopefully it won't involve glitter. I like to think I banned all the glitter from the house, but I wouldn't put it past her to have a stash somewhere."

"He already told me what he wanted for family supper, so I let Katherine know to expect about two dozen less for the main supper tonight."

"You up for cooking for that many? It can be smaller."

"I'll be fine. Patricia and Glynnis will be around if I need them, and Beth's already offered extra help. The moussaka is oven baked anyway, and you have enough gadgets stashed around that kitchen to stock a TV chef show. It doesn't look much harder than a vegetarian lasagna, so it'll be fine. I've never worked with phyllo dough before, but Patricia has, so we'll get that sorted. At least now I know why you have so many odd bits and bobs ingredient wise, if Jazz likes Greek and Turkish food so much. I wasn't sure what some of them were for, until I read through a few recipes. We'll make a sweet and a savory on the bourekia."

He lures her in for another kiss, glad that she took the unusual request and rolled with it. Jazz would have happily eaten whatever she suggested as an alternative, but this will be the best present she can make the boy. "I'm guessing the supplies didn't make much of a dent in the credits toward personal food supplies in that system Patricia set up?"

"Not in the least. I think we're all working way too much, and I don't think Patricia counted anything already in the house as part of the larger inventory anyway. It feels a bit selfish, til I realize that no one who lives there with us ever seems to take any time off. Even Patricia's been sitting and sewing or knitting."

"If you want to expand out the meal, he's never met zucchini he wouldn't eat about his weight in, and if you check his stash in the basement freezer, there's probably enough milk frozen to make some ice cream for everyone. His favorite's peppermint. Should be a handwritten recipe in the big purple binder in with the cookbooks. Those are Jazz's adaptations, if you can muddle through his handwriting."

"I'd almost feel decadent having ice cream when everyone else is."

Merle shrugs. "So, make a bunch of fruit sorbet for everyone else tomorrow. Might take some relief off the canning crew on playing catch up with all the melons, peaches, and berries Lenore's people been hauling up." He's actually glad that doing a special dinner for Jazz has her off the canning crew for the day at least. She's about as bad as Jazz for fluttering around from project to project, keeping all the ducks lined up. He can already see the logistics of sorbet for 200 spinning in her head, so he finishes his drink and gets one last kiss before going to kidnap his boy off the work crew for a break.

~*~ SW ~*~

There are a lot of things he's done in his life - before and after the apocalypse - but Shane thinks figuring out how to load up and haul several hundred rabbits in cages is one he is lucky to be unlikely to repeat. In the end, they disassembled some of the cage systems and loaded the parts onto the trucks, with some strapped fully assembled onto two flatbeds. The bunnies themselves are getting to ride in a chicken hauler appropriated from a chicken processing plant in a nearby town. By contrast, rounding up the handful of other animals deemed fit for transport was easy, including a jenny who really didn't care for the idea of going on the livestock trailer at all.

The family that ran the farm is doing a final load up of what they're taking with them. Scout's with them, gently reminding them that their property isn't so far away they can't come back for anything forgotten by joining a supply run going that way. Which reminds him that Hershel's along for this trip.

The older man is doing final checks on the animals, and Shane knows he worries about the chicken transport because even sanitizing it isn't a full guarantee the poultry didn't leave something nasty behind the rabbits might catch. But he can't imagine that seeing the bulk of this farm going on the road isn't a heartache when most of his farm was left behind.

When he steps up to look into the livestock trailer and pet the jenny, who is perfectly happy now that she's actually in the trailer with her buddies, Hershel chuckles. "Keep that up and you'll have a new best friend. She's a healthy little thing."

"Last time I patted a donkey was some petting zoo thing for Carl's school, I think." Shane fumbles in his pocket and shows Hershel the granola bar and the vet nods, so he unwraps it for his new pal. "You wanna try a trip down to your farm? See what else can be brought up?"

Hershel takes a minute to reply, and Shane lets him mull it over. "Even between the two properties, there's no real space for my cattle, even if we brought them all. We could try to transport them to that old horse farm in the other river bend, but I don't know that the fences there would stand up to walkers if they came in. Afraid we'd just be adding a lot of smell and movement to attract herds without a good enough payoff. And there might not be any left. All it would take is one herd finding the place and they'd be mostly defenseless, even if we did leave the gates open so they could go free."

"You had horses though. Think they'd be around still? Might not be able to take all the cattle, but could find spots for a few more horses and maybe a few of the cows. Cars won't last forever, and as much as I would like to unlearn that supper discussion about insemination y'all had the other night, you do have those frozen tanks we've been gathering from vet offices and farms." And isn't that a weird thing to know is in the barn loft now... about a dozen tanks of frozen farm genetics that Hershel says will last indefinitely as long as they can keep liquid nitrogen supplies. "Damned walkers can't be around forever, right?"

"I wouldn't think so. Even if the virus keeps them protected from decay, in the end, their bodies can't renew and repair. It's why we find immobile or trapped ones looking like they're starved and they can't really move fast enough to attack. Eventually the large herds of them wouldn't be around, but I suspect we're looking at a few years, maybe as long as a decade."

"So, is it feasible to keep a few regular sized cattle in the secure areas for that long?"

"Maybe not that long, but long enough that we could get the horse farm secure in a year or two."

"Yeah, because let's face it, after a year or two, we're unlikely to be finding groups to take in. They're going to have their own settlements. Eventually we can expand instead of coping to keep up."

"It's a decent area to expand, like the castles in Europe. They just added new layers to protect, although we have the advantage that we can probably enclose areas by years rather than by decades. I'll talk it over with Merle. See how feasible a timeline there would be to add the horse farm property, especially since we haven't begun reinforcing either the Dixon or Eldridge property fully yet."

The shipping container idea Merle originally thought of for the main Dixon acreage ended up being how they reinforced any weak points on the Eldridge one, since it was the weak point and too many people had to be exposed in the fields. It wasn't solidly enclosed, not like the nightmare thicket around the Homestead itself, but it didn't give Shane security nightmares either. Walkers wouldn't make it on the property at all, and humans, well, they wouldn't get on property without triggering a lot of alerts they were there. All the military or former military had tested for lapses and so far, none. Thank God they lived in the era of solar powered security systems and people bright enough to cobble them together.

"Best be getting on the road, I think," Hershel says, looking where the remnants of the Brasfield family is loading up at last. Of the multi-generation family of nine, only five survived both virus and aftermath of family member attack, plus one poor exchange student whose year abroad turned permanent residency when she wasn't allowed to fly home at the end of the school year. Lydia Teoh Jia would never see her home again.

He smiles as Scout swings into the cab of the truck he's driving. They've enough drivers today that she rode with him out and back. He's enjoying the throwback to their early days together, before being able to move the greatest number of vehicles each trip and to have the most experienced team leads split them up most days.

"Glad the road's reasonably clear between here and home," he says after she leans in for a kiss. He shifts to lead the line of vehicles off the now-abandoned fifty-acre farm and she nods.

"Gonna have to set up some sort of obstacles. I figure it's that clear because no one wanted to try crossing through the lake area when the government was saying head south, but I wouldn't mind ways of knowing if other groups have been through. Just because that asshole down in the southwest hasn't shown up anywhere yet doesn't mean he doesn't have teams out as far as us yet. I'm hoping that man we interrogated was truthful that the man was obsessed with Atlanta and part south."

"We're going to have to go scout him out eventually."

"Yeah, but I prefer it to be after we aren't trying to figure out where to cram too many living beings in too little space first. Can you imagine if we end up with another Grady and the people don't want to _stay_ in that town he's walled off? No way we can handle another fifty now."

"Maybe once winter's underway. Be a good time for a small team and a long drive then."

She nods and glances at her watch. "I was starting to think we wouldn't make it back by supper time and end up with bare leftovers of Jazz's birthday supper. You know Carol's going to go all out and spoil him."

"I sure won't mind eating something cooked by Carol solo again. The ladies running the kitchen are putting out good food, but it's not up to our ladies' standards."

"Glynnis is still overseeing breakfast and lunch," Scout says, but grins. "And you know she'll lecture you about how quantity cooking can't be as complex as family sized meals. Might find yourself on kitchen duty if she hears you talking like that."

"Better veggies than laundry. I prefer it left to my imagination whose underwear is whose."

"Still traumatized by helping fold and sort and now knowing what underclothing every female family member wears?"

"Hell yes." But he's joking and she knows it. He can't let it be like the quarry, where he didn't lead by example on helping with chores. He knows the younger men, especially the teenagers, are definitely paying attention when he and the other men seen as leaders are part of some chore that traditional Southern machismo might see as too girly. Scout may be conflicted about being part of the council, staying on when Patricia shifted off only because she did know she was considered in authority for both her road crew and the Grady civilians. But Shane really would like to stay a part of it longer term than Scout wants to. He enjoys being part of planning for not just the day-to-day safety of the community, but their futures as well.

The trip passes in close to what would be normal time before - just under two hours for a formerly hour trip isn't bad now. But unlike most supply runs, this one's going to be a doozy, he thinks as they pull in, knowing that time is ticking to get the delicate rabbits out of the chicken transport cages before they overheat once the truck's not underway creating a breeze.

He and Scout are both halfway to one of the trucks with the equipment on flatbeds, knowing those cages are at least still assembled and should go first, when he hears a name he knows, but also knows Scout never wants used.

"Salome!"

He pauses and turns faster than she does, seeing an exhausted looking blond man striding toward them at speed. As soon as Scout turns, she takes off and meets him halfway. Shane isn't sure who is trying to crush who more in the enthusiastic hug, but the man's tall enough to actually lift Scout off the ground a few inches. When he finally puts her down, she turns with one arm still around the newcomer's waist and motions him forward. He doesn't think he's seen her so overjoyed since Merle woke up back at quarry camp.

"Shane, this is Christopher," she says. He offers a hand in greeting as she continues. "Christopher, this is my fiancé, Shane."

That term is definitely surprising to the man, who Shane knows is one of Alaina's missing sons now that he has his name. He hopes for the older woman's sake that more than just Christopher made it back. It also makes Christopher notice the necklace, hanging loose after Scout stripped down to a T-shirt when the trip went easily and the August heat got to be too much. He lifts it and rubs a thumb across the inscription. "Without you, I am nothing. In Chamorro, no less. It sounds like you've finally found the right one."

The fact that Christopher can clearly read Chamorro is a little disgruntling, except that Scout's face damn near glows at the compliment. He reminds himself that for all the history between these two, it's only been friendship for nearly a decade. He's her best friend, and that's far more important than the ex-boyfriend label.

"I certainly have. Where's the others?" She looks hopeful now, but guarded, like they all are when discussing potential for loss.

Christopher's happiness fades. "Just me, Bryce, and Audrey. Amber, Dylan, and Chase were gone before we got there. Audrey survived by locking herself in the attic and climbing in and out a window for supplies. Couldn't bring herself to put them to rest."

"Oh, hell, Kit, I'm so sorry."

So's Shane. Out of Christopher and Bryce's sister's family, only his thirteen-year-old niece survived and Chase was only eleven. Scout used to babysit both kids in high school, so worry over the missing Roberts' clan has featured in a few of Scout's nightmares. He reaches out to brush the back of Scout's hand to draw her attention quietly.

"You stay with him. Go see Bryce and Audrey. I'll lead the rabbit wrangling."

The smile it earns him is well worth the next few hours of rabbit poop and sweat.


	27. The Green Monster

**August 29, 2010**

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol lets herself be tugged onto Merle's lap now that everyone's eaten. Jazz's birthday supper luckily had enough surplus to add in four new guests. She knew the second she saw Jazz wrapped in Christopher's hug that the guest list was expanding. The five-minute hug where Jazz seemed lost for words at seeing just how much Carol and the other ladies did for his birthday supper was worth the worry over creating so many unfamiliar dishes. She added a couple of extra things as side dishes plus his requests.

"Dishes can wait and someone other than the cooks and birthday boy will do them," he says softly.

Everyone seems pretty happy, even if the living room and dining area are fairly crowded to the point where her seat in Merle's lap is as much necessity as closeness.

She wouldn't have pictured Michonne as the beanbag type, but she's curled up on one with Andre and Honey. The girl hasn't let up much on shadowing the lawyer since she arrived. They're so close, in a way that reminds Carol that this is the woman Honey once tried matchmaking to her father. Merle and Michonne seem to have a unique relationship, more sibling in nature than anyone who knew Merle back at the quarry would have understood.

With Jazz tucked on Christopher's right side with the man's niece between him and Scout, Carol is feeling a little lonely for the closeness of Merle's two youngest. Sophia is relaxed against Merle's legs, but it's not the same as their sprawl a week ago.

Cricket stands, waving a DVD. Jazz must know what it is, because he groans and hides his face. "Since our family is a lot bigger this year, y'all don't all know about the tradition we girls have about Jazz's birthdays. I started it because Scout was always so far away, but even now that she's home, I think the annual sharing of our baby brother's life must continue."

"Don't see your baby pictures getting shared," Jazz grumbles, but he's smiling.

"Oh, the world wouldn't survive that level of cuteness." Cricket sets up the DVD to play and rejoins Tara with the remote.

The first image might have Carol arguing about surviving the cuteness. The Dixon children's dark hair, caramel skin, and bright blue eyes are striking enough in the adult and near adult forms. A six-month-old Jazz in the lap of three-year-old Honey is a heart achingly adorable combination of black curls and blue eyes.

The photos progress through Jazz's life, sometimes also gifting the audience with youthful images of his various family members. Based on the photos taken at celebrations, the Roberts boys have been satellite Dixons a long time. Christopher is in every single one of the group photos, well past the end of high school timeline Carol knows of his relationship with Scout. There's a young woman with Bryce who also has two individual shots with Jazz at school functions relating to music, and Carol assumes she's a wife or girlfriend who was gone before the outbreak, because she's not in the group shot of everyone surrounding Jazz while still in his lacrosse goalie gear from this year.

The part that makes her smile is that despite the apocalypse, they're still adding pictures. Somehow, there's pictures of Jazz with most of the new family as well: cooking with Carol and Patricia, on the building crew with Carl and Sophia, and so on. There's even a shot of him and Lori from what looks to be this afternoon, both going over those flock spreadsheets at the table with a degree of animated expression not often seen on either of them.

It ends not with a still photo, but with a video clip. Merle's distinctive voice at a prior party, based on the wrapping paper debris. Jazz, maybe six or seven, is surrounded by Legos. "Hey, Jasper Benjamin, whatcha gonna be when you grow up?"

The boy pauses in studying the instructions for the Lego set and looks toward the camera. "Everything." It ends with Merle laughing.

"Started real young on that ambition, didn't you, baby brother?" Scout calls out. Jazz just grins and shrugs.

"Hey, birthday boy! Wanna play a little music?" Christopher nudges the teenager.

Jazz looks torn. "Will you play with me?"

"Of course."

The teenager heads upstairs, returning a few minutes later with a guitar case and a smaller instrument case. He hands the guitar to Christopher, who moves to an ottoman and gives Cricket's feet a push to vacate another. She grins and loops her legs up closer to Tara's.

While Christopher tunes the guitar, Jazz assembles what Carol thinks is an oboe, although it might be one of the clarinets, since she knows Jazz had a clarinet in one of the photos earlier. It's been a lot of years since high school and Sophia took an art elective instead of band.

Jazz's quick tuning leads Christopher's further, but then there's a small consultation before they play.

The music is beautiful, almost haunting. The instrument combination isn't one she's ever heard, but it works. It's obvious they've played together before, and she wonders at just how close Scout's ex-boyfriend remains with the family.

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane is enjoying the instrumental music more than he thought he would when Bryce scoots into the spot Christopher vacated.

The other man leans in to ask softly, "just how well is Jasper doing?"

"Better than I ever would have expected," Scout replied. "But then he's always done best with a set of goals ahead of him. Had a bit of a bump coming out of Atlanta when he had to help save the elderly from human predators, but Shane helped him through it."

Bryce glances at Shane, in his usual position as Scout's backrest. "Good that he had you to lean on."

"Bryce's wife was Jazz's fifth grade teacher. She's the one who recognized the Asperger's."

"And started his music lessons," the other cop says softly. His expression holds enough grief as he turns back to watch the musicians to make Shane tighten his arm around Scout in reflex.

She looks over her shoulder and then follows his gaze to Bryce. The signal comes for 'later' and he nods.

As the song ends, Bryce joins in everyone's applause, but after a glance to Audrey confirms the girl is sound asleep against Scout, he rises and exits out onto the back deck.

Scout starts to slide out from under Audrey, but Daryl's hand lands on her shoulder. "Best not be you just now, che'lu. Your happy is just beginning. I'll go."

Christopher and Daryl exchange a look and the younger man encourages Jazz to begin a new song. Daryl leans close to Lori to say something Shane can't hear and she nods. Daryl's exit from the room includes a stop to rustle a bottle of liquor out of an upper cabinet before he disappears into the dark as well.

Under the cover of the music, Scout explains. "His wife died of cancer last November."

That explains the difficulty with music that is already hauntingly sad, if his wife initially taught Jazz to play. She must be the woman he hasn't met from the photo montage.

The thought of that loss brings him to lean forward to kiss the side of Scout's neck gently. She reaches down to lace their fingers together and squeezes in response.

~*~ MD ~*~

"You're looking mighty pensive for that bath," Merle says. Carol is immersed in the water, a scent of jasmine wafting off the steamy water. He's glad to see her using some of the luxuries available to her for once.

She doesn't answer, so he kneels by the tub and braces his arms on the side, brushing the knuckles of one hand against her shoulder. "Tell me what's bothering you, Mouse."

"I'm just... adjusting," she says at last. The uncertainty in her voice bothers him.

"Adjusting to what, darlin'?"

"I got a little spoiled. The older ones have their own lives and paths, but Jazz and Honey and Sophia..."

Ah. While there is no mistaking Sophia's love for him, he can understand the uncertainty Carol still bears. He knows his kids, knows they all love Carol, even though the older ones aren't looking for a mama. But he's certain by now that the younger two still need one.

He reaches out to cup the back of her neck, urging her to look at him.

"Right before supper, I said 'go tell your mama' to send you the message the trucks were returning. Boy didn't even hesitate, Carol, just trotted right off. He might not be ready to call you mama directly, but that's who you are in his mind. And you saw his face at supper tonight. I think if you asked the moon of him, he'd be out back building a rocket ship the next hour."

Her smile is tremulous, but it's there.

"It'll take him a bit to reorient with Christopher back. In his own way, Christopher's been more part of Jazz's life growing up than Scout, because he only left long enough for nursing school. Even then he didn't go far, just to Atlanta. And Bryce and his late wife stepped up a lot once Daryl transferred for work. He'll circle back to us."

"And Honey?"

"She's at that selfish stage Sophia hasn't introduced you to yet. She's not thinking about how her abandoning everyone for Michonne is making anyone feel. Give Michonne a few more days to talk her round."

"They are very close and she wanted you to date Michonne, didn't she?"

"She did, but as much as I love 'Chonne, it was never a glimmer of a possibility. She's a good friend, better than I deserved at times. Honey... she's had a case of hero worship on Michonne since she was just younger than Sophia. But it's easy to idolize someone you only see a few times a year."

"I always thought Honey hero worshipped you."

"Might be true on some things, but when Honey was twelve, some dipshit teacher had the balls to call her a half-breed right in class one day. I was telling my lawyer about it on a trip to the city, thinking there wasn't much beyond the school's inadequate discipline offer. Michonne overheard. She was a year out of law school and she slaughtered the district. Not sure the woman kept her teaching license by the time it was all done."

"So, Honey sees her as the warrior who saved her from that teacher."

"Exactly. She toyed with the idea of becoming a lawyer for a while before Michonne convinced her she lacks the vicious streak needed. I could have pulled my kids out and put them in private school. But the way it went, it protected kids who didn't have that option."

"So, things will probably cycle back around once she realizes Michonne's safe and sound?"

"Most likely. But if they don't, based on prior teenage behavior, we'll rise in importance to her once she's gotten enough of Independence to appreciate parental pampering again." He leans in to kiss her, hoping she's reassured. "Budge up and I'll join you."

She giggles. "You're going to smell like flowers tomorrow."

"Something tells me my crew will appreciate that more than what we smell like by the end of the day."

But she moves and he strips out of his boxers in order to slip in behind her. Once she's settled against his chest, he reaches for the body wash. Maybe he can't entirely promise her security in his daughter's eyes, but he can make sure she knows how much he appreciates her.

As his fingers brush against the small bump under the skin on her arm, he pauses and runs his thumb along it. He's never considered another child, especially with his youngest being such a surprise. But Carol's ten years younger than him and she's such a good mama.

She turns to look at him, then down to the thumb against her arm.

"I know I made sure you were covered when we started down this path, but that's not a no."

She covers his hand with hers. "Maybe later, once the other babies are safely here."

That's an answer he can be happy about.

~*~ SW ~*~

There's something that's innately wrong with Shane getting stuck in his own head so quickly after the euphoria of sex fades. Scout hasn't even moved away from him yet, instead nuzzling at his throat with a series of small nips like she often does after taking the lead in the bedroom.

Having any sort of doubt about her devotion when he's still surrounded by her warmth is a sign his mind needs a serious readjustment.

And she's sensitive to the mood swing like she always is. "Where'd you go?" she asks softly, raising up on her forearms to look at him.

"Just something someone said tonight." Something he doesn't want to consider makes sense, but it does.

She frowns and shifts her weight, causing the pendant to thump against his own chest. "I'm not going to make you tell me, but if something has you worried, I'd like to know."

He reaches out to rub his thumb over the surface of the pendant, not meeting her eyes. "Did you ever date Bryce?" He knew about Christopher in detail, but she never mentioned any interest in his older brother at all.

"Alaina's bitchy side is showing, I see." She kisses him gently, devoting enough time to it that he's starting to forget the uncertainty that snuck up to plague him. "I've never dated Bryce. Before he married Nora three years ago, Alaina had her heart set on fixing the two of us up. So maybe in her mind, the fact that we didn't pitch a fit and leave dinners where Christopher and his partner were conveniently unable to attend whenever I was home on leave meant we dated, but it was just humoring her."

"She seems to be still aiming for it."

"And that regardless of my own engagement or the fact that nine months later Bryce is still grieving doesn't hit her radar."

She slides away, padding to the bathroom for a minute before returning and taking her time running the damp cloth across his skin too. Shane relaxes under the attention, pushing away the hooks of doubt Alaina set when she caught him alone on the porch for a few minutes.

"Shane? I don't know who taught you to think you're the consolation prize, but you're my first choice. If I had ever had a glimmer of interest in Bryce, I would have told you about it when I told you about Christopher. What I feel for you is so intense it scares me sometimes, because if I ever lost you, I'd be as much of a walking wound as Bryce is."

"Not sure I'd have his strength to go on at all."

She curls up against him. "That's what I want you to promise me. Anything happens, you take care of my family and let them take care of you. You wouldn't be alone. Not ever again."

The thought of her dying and leaving him behind hurts as badly as if he's been stabbed. Surviving that in reality isn't something he thinks possible. "I'll do my best, long as you promise to do your best that it never happens."

He knows they're both always going to be at high risk, as badly as they would've been in the world before with their careers. But they can at least minimize the risk.

"Promise." She's quiet for a minute, fingers curled into the pulse point at his elbow. "I know we talked about waiting until winter to hold a ceremony, but I know what I want for my birthday now."

He feels a thrill at the idea of moving things up. It's the final promise to each other he anticipates. "Gonna wrap me in paper and ribbon?"

"Maybe, but I suspect as a celebration, folks will prefer something along the lines of clothing. But as my gift, yeah, you're exactly what I want."

"I'll talk to your dad and Carol tomorrow. See if Hershel might want to be a formal officiant."

The slow, lingering kisses that lead into them finally dozing off are some of the best he's ever experienced.

~*~ DD ~*~

Daryl's as quiet as he can be, slipping up the stairs into his room. He asked Lori to watch Abby for the night, figuring getting Bryce drunk enough to forget his grief for a while would take most of the night. But the man folded half a bottle in, probably due to the stress of the road. He passed him off to a sleepy Christopher, glad the two men were in a ground level apartment with Audrey and Alaina next door.

But despite his care to be quiet, Lori stirs, and he's reminded she was a cop's wife for more than a decade. She'll probably never lose that extra awareness of movement in the night.

"Abby asked to bunk with Sophia tonight," she says sleepily. "Offered Sophia to sleep here, but I'm thinking it was a sleepover since Sophia went and fetched Molly, Mika, and Lizzie too."

She sounds uncertain that she's given permission. Daryl lets her off the hook quickly. "Glad they're on Hershel's side of the house then."

She giggles and he smiles a little to himself as he fumbles for his toothbrush in the dim light of the nightlight in the bathroom. He didn't drink enough to be more than buzzed, but he preferred not to go to sleep with the lingering taste.

She's definitely looking at him as he goes to the futon, her outline barely lit by the other nightlight they put in for Abby. "Need something?" he asks.

"What happened to Bryce's wife? She's the woman from the pictures, right?"

"She died of ovarian cancer last November. Went undetected a long time cos she was so young. By the time they found it, it spread so far nothing they did seemed to touch it, bones, liver, eventually her brain. Fought for two damned years before it got so far in her brain she refused more treatment."

He was sheltered from Nora's battle in some ways by living in Thomson. But it also meant the contrast in her health was more obvious each time he visited. It remains one of the worst things he ever stood witness to, second only to Scout's burns.

"That poor man. I was thinking maybe it was recent, since he still wears his wedding band."

"Happened the week before Scout got hurt. We had Nora's funeral the day before we got the call to go to San Antonio."

It had been a double gut punch. He'd been hungover as hell when Merle called, having spent the night with Christopher and every off-duty cop in the area getting Bryce too drunk to remember his grief for a few hours.

"They're family?"

He actually finds himself taking a seat at the foot of her bed. She sits up, pulling her knees up best she can with her now visible baby bump.

"Scout and Christopher were thick as thieves all through high school, dated three years. Bryce came home from the Marines their junior year and just kept getting dragged along to any family event Christopher did. Think Merle helped him adjust to being out of the Corps. Their daddy died before we ever moved here, and he and Alaina have always had a bit of a bumpy relationship after she married his daddy."

"That explains Christopher knowing Scout's given name."

Daryl snorts. "Man's lucky she loves him, calling her that."

"It's a very pretty name, but I can see why she'd be unhappy with it in Georgia."

"It's not unusual back on Guam, where a lot of folks have Spanish names, but yeah, stateside, kids called her salami. Merle already called her Scout, so she's used that since kindergarten."

"I'm surprised she didn't use a middle name, like I do."

"So is Lori your actual middle name or short for something else?"

"It's Lorraine. Sarah Lorraine, actually. It's not that I don't like Sarah, but it's my mother and grandmother's name."

"Too many Sarahs." He laughs. "Her middle name is Camarin, after the patron saint of Guam. By then, she preferred the name her daddy gave her to her mama's."

Lori smiles a little sadly. "I'm familiar with children being more fatherly inclined."

"Your boy still needs his mama. He's just not very good at expressing it at this age." He never thought he would find himself reassuring Lori, but the longer she makes an effort to be a decent person, the more his resolve to keep her at arm's length crumbles. He can't deny the woman's a friend now.

"He's actually better here, maybe because he's not always seeking out Rick's approval over mine. He might actually spend more of his free time with you and your family than Rick."

"Ever think about the fact that where we are, you are? Might not just be us."

She stares at her hands for a minute, twisting them so much he's tempted to grab them to stop her. "And when Abby doesn't need me anymore?"

"Ain't kicking you out just cos Abby's got her independence back, woman. Might get some personal space back without me stuck in it."

She looks up finally. "You don't have to do that. It's been fine, sharing."

He arches a brow and she shrugs. "Pretty sure you take more time to talk to me in the evening than Rick did the last two years we were married. I didn't help matters, but it's nice not to feel like part of the furniture."

"Can understand that." He's not yet willing to share with her just how familiar he is with that feeling. He decides to let her get some rest and rises. "You should get some sleep. Been restless last few nights."

She surprises him by groaning as she wiggles back down under her sheet. He doesn't think she means to him to hear the "not much chance of that."

"Lori? Everything okay?"

"It's not something you can help with."

"If it's something due to the baby, I can try. Got you those clothes, didn't I?" He doesn't really blame the others, but close quarters led him to clue in her need for maternity clothes when he realized how much skin he was starting to glimpse. Patricia's baggier clothing lasted longer.

"This is way more personal than clothes, Daryl. I can deal with it "

"Lori."

She's angry when she sits back up. "Unless you're willing to further my reputation as a slut, no, you can't help."

Oh, hell. He'd missed that part of Carrie's pregnancy with Abby, since she came to stay with Glynnis later on. But he remembers her telling him how much she hated being a single woman through the extra libido pregnancy gave her before bulky discomfort took it away.

And he's probably insane and maybe a little further into the bottle than he thought because he's speaking before he can stop himself. "Could help."

Hell, the look of complete shock on her face might be worth what he's said.

"Daryl, you can't be serious about offering to sleep with me just because being pregnant has me missing it."

"Well, technically, I don't have to sleep with you to help out with that."

He watches her process that, figuring she's smart enough to figure it out.

"So, you're offering a helping hand?"

He laughs at the suspicious tone of the phrasing. "If that's what you want, yeah."

"And what does that do for you, if you don't want sex?" She frowns, then looks a little hurt. "You shouldn't offer if you don't find me attractive at all."

"Ain't that." He sighs and sits down on her bed again, closer this time. He does capture those twisting hands this time. "Damn, your hands are cold."

She lets him warm up her hands by rubbing them gently between his. It gives him a chance to gather his thoughts for a conversation he's never actually had to have.

"It's not a matter of finding you attractive or not. Anybody with eyes and a brain can see that much about you. It's more that I'm not wired to have sex easy as most folks."

"Like being asexual?"

Huh. He's surprised she knows that term. "Close. Never had a name for it til last year or two when Cricket sent me a bunch of web links after some med school discussion. Never had a good idea before that. Most people just think I'm still hung up on my ex-wife or that it's something to do with being raised Catholic."

"A friend gave me a book after the Kinsey movie came out. She thought maybe some of the issues Rick and I had were because we married too young before he could figure out he was gay. He isn't, and the book didn't help in the long term, but I remember that term."

"Well, then you got the general idea, probably."

"I can't ask that of you, if sex isn't something you like."

He realizes he still has her hands and lets them go. "Not that I don't like it. Just need more than just a pretty woman for it. Never actually slept with anyone but my ex-wife."

"No one would ever understand."

"Ain't no one's business but ours."

He thinks she looks more afraid than interested when she finally leans toward him, her hands rubbing his shoulders nervously. "We'll try kissing," she suggests.

Daryl closes the gap for a kiss, knowing she's too nervous. He's always liked kissing and touching, part of what puzzled him when the rest didn't follow easier. It takes her a minute to get past the worry, but once she does, it's just a matter of learning what she likes.

It takes about half an hour of making out like teenagers before either of them speaks again. She's gasping softly, fingers scrabbling against his shoulders where she's gotten under the button up he unbuttoned but hadn't taken off yet to sleep.

He's about to ask her if she's okay, when she beats him to it, looking a bit worried about the fact she's explored his chest and shoulders.

"That's good," he tells her softly. "I like being touched." He twitches the end of the tank top she's wearing and she moves to help him tug the garment off. She's not wearing a bra to bed, so she's fully exposed. Keeping his eyes on her expression, he sheds his own shirt and takes his kisses to her chest. She arches against him and rocks against the ball of his hand when he slides his palm against her through her pajama pants.

Her libido must be really driving her crazy, because she cries out, muffling herself with her own hand. She shudders, making a soft mewling sound as he rolls her against his chest.

Actual sex may not appeal as much, but this he does enjoy, having someone fall apart against him.

~*~ LG ~*~

Lori's a little embarrassed to realize she fell asleep after unexpectedly climaxing without even getting all her clothes off, like a teenager.

She's even more embarrassed to realize Daryl didn't just tuck her in and leave for his own bed. Her top is back on, and she's pulled against his chest. One of his big hands is cupped against her lower belly.

"Can go back to my bed if you want me to. Didn't want you to wake and think something was wrong."

She thinks about what will be said if this ever gets out. Daryl's family is protective of him, although she suspects after earlier that they may be worrying too much. But she is growing to depend on his quiet company and right now she thinks she might cry if he did leave the bed.

"Stay." She's weak, and maybe it means she really can't stand on her own like Daryl himself accused, but she needs this.

"This okay?" He twitches his hand against her belly.

"Yeah." Everyone is so polite about her pregnancy that Daryl's only the third person to touch it, and that's if she includes the medical checkups. "Daryl? What if Abby comes in?"

"You gonna run off from her if you decide you want more than just this?"

"No. I'll be part of her life long as you'll let me."

"Then it won't matter if Abby sees us. But she'll tell Carl."

"I don't think he will care. He shrugged off that the baby's Shane's, and other than checking to make sure it didn't bother me if he mentioned it, he knows his dad's moved on in a casual sense."

"Then we covered the only two that you need to worry about." He readjusts the sheet over them. "Get some sleep. Baby's gonna steal that from you soon enough."

She yawns, feeling him laughing silently against her back, and does just that.


	28. Inafa' maolek

A/N: While I can write emotional speeches and scenes, I utterly suck at wedding vows, etc. Full credit for most of Hershel's words during the ceremony and the vows themselves goes to .

**September 24, 2010**

~*~ CP ~*~

"Go back to sleep," Carol says, rubbing her hand along Merle's spine. Just as she discovered that first night together, he loves her touch along that part of his back.

"Sun ain't even up."

She laughs. "No, it's not, but there's things that need to be overseen and you didn't get back from raiding those solar warehouses in Atlanta til late. Sleep."

Merle didn't go out on raids often, too busy with the daisy chain of construction projects, but sometimes they needed him on-site to sort through necessary from not. The loft areas of the two warehouses now complete both held enough solar panels and supplies to last them for years. The two-day trip marked the only night they've spent apart so far.

She's in jeans and a tank top for now, figuring she'll change into the beautiful dress she has for today later. She isn't alone in the kitchen, as it seems Beth and Lori both are ready to head down and help the cooking crew. The teenager looks too chipper for five a.m., but Lori looks like Carol feels, and at sixteen weeks pregnant, can't even get much of a caffeine boost.

They made everything ahead that could be possibly made ahead. The two massive commercial refrigerators are crowded, and tidbits like mini-quiches that can be frozen are in the freezers to be heated closer to time. This morning is for the things that couldn't, like vegetables for the lamb kebabs and potato salad. And most especially, the wedding cake Scout finally conceded to when the women baking it begged that it was their gift to the couple.

The lane cakes for the groom's cake came from a recipe card Shane handed off to Carol, bashfully asking that they use his Grandma Jean's recipe. Carol handled the handwritten card like the treasure it is. There were three made and 'marinating' in the fridge. The fun part will be watching the children sneaking bites, since the lane cakes are positively oozing bourbon.

The mint and chocolate three tier wedding cake is something Carol and Glynnis are looking forward to making. Chocolate will be a forgotten treat one day, when the cocoa stocks run out or expire, so while they have it, they'll indulge.

Outside the community center, Arthur and Lenore have the two big smokers brought in from the restaurant in town up and running, two hogs ready to go for an all-day smoking. Lenore assures her there will likely be leftovers of the pulled pork, which tomorrow's lunch will easily take care of.

The sheer mass of food steps outside their usual conservative use, but as hard as everyone has worked, along with the reality of why their little patchwork community exists, a celebration of something so normal as a wedding is exactly what as needed. The fact that it is Scout and Shane just makes it even better.

They're met by a mixed group of cooking volunteers who range from as sleepy as Lori to as perky as Beth. Lori moves off toward the heaping mound of potatoes with a shrug, joining the guardsmen couple from Jamie's team who volunteered since there were no supply runs today. The two men joked that peeling potatoes was something any military were expert at.

Beth gets drawn in by the team prepping ice cream from the various fresh milk they've saved the last three days. The habit of clearing out small appliances they may or may not use is paying off with the small army of ice cream makers spread over one table. Not all of them are electric, so they'll recruit in the kids as the youngsters wake for the day.

As Carol joins Glynnis, she just smiles, thinking that Carol from six months ago would never imagined that she'd be baking a wedding cake for her stepdaughter today.

~*~ DD ~*~

Daryl should have known slipping in to leave his present for Scout wouldn't happen. She's awake the second he enters Merle's office, where she's stayed the night to humor the ladies who were making the wedding a community celebration. She blinks once, realizes it's him, and sits up. Her hair is escaping the long braid, and he notices how long it's gotten since the damaged parts were trimmed away after her injury.

He sits down and hands her the carved box, studying his hands instead of her reaction. He knows she's not quite lost the faith Lilliana raised them in, that their family on Guam reinforced, but it's close enough that giving her items meant for a religious wedding might not go well.

She gasps. "Daryl, did Aunt Julia give this to you?" She's touching the crucifix on the wedding rosary gently with her fingers, looking at the metal inlaid onto the carved wood.

"Yes, last trip I made out. She swore she had a dream I'd need them."

She lifts out the rosary, letting the beads slide through her fingers. He's unsure what she's thinking, as she reaches in to tentatively touch the belu with its delicate embroidery. He nudges the small carved box that holds the arras coins.

"These were Nana's."

He reminded their aunt, who also stood as godmother to them both, that he wasn't likely to remarry in the Church, and she scoffed, telling him that getting an annulment from 'that woman' ought to be the easiest petition the diocese ever had. "She thought that they should go to you anyway, since Lilliana was older." And that Aunt Julia would never have biological grandchildren to pass them on to. Her only child, Rosa, died in a car accident when she was in college.

She's quiet for a moment. "Part of me thinks using them as a lapsed Catholic isn't appropriate."

"Not sure anything about the world fits what we were taught when we were young. Pretty sure they grabbed the practice from something older than the Catholics anyway." He leans forward and kisses her temple, hugging her to him. "_She_ didn't use these, che'lu. Only Aunt Julia and Nana. And maybe there's no church or priest or even a civil authority, but I think would be a good thing to continue."

"Who do I ask to stand? We're awfully lacking in aunts and uncles here."

Considering what little extended family they had was on Guam and hopefully isolated enough not to have the world go to hell quite in the same fashion, he understands. "Well, technically, I'm your uncle, remember?"

Scout laughs. "I suppose you are, Tihu."

"Supposed to be someone who you'd go to for advice. And I've been to a wedding or two that had the bridesmaids and groomsmen do it when it wasn't part of the Church. Deputy buddy married a Filipina lady a few years ago. Pretty much the same ceremony, close as I can remember anyway." He hasn't managed to be on Guam when a wedding was underway since before his own.

"What are you two up to this early?" Merle asks from the open doorway. He steps inside enough to see what's spread across his daughter's lap and actually smiles as he reaches out to lift the belu. "I remember getting to do this for Julia. She was such a pretty little thing that day."

"Scout thinks she shouldn't use them."

Merle replaces the belu carefully in the box. "I'm thinking that your aunt and your Nana would be honored despite no priest and no church. Gotta remember that Nana converted to marry your grandfather anyway. Could probably remember enough to write down some wording for each part, if you use them."

As Scout's fingers absently move across the beads in a way that tells him she probably hasn't forgotten years of a rosary in her hand, Daryl thinks she's going to accept.

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane realizes just how used he's gotten to waking up to Scout when he automatically reaches out to find nothing but cool sheets beside him. They decided against any old world bachelor party traditions, but in the end, he and Rick were up pretty late with a half bottle between them, just reconnecting their friendship after the past few months of distance. His brother is stretched out on a camp cot, joking someone had to stand guard lest he get cold feet in the night.

"We are getting too damned old for drinking and staying up half the night," he mutters. Maverick, who after weeks of being the dog-on-roam for the property, decided to adopt Shane as his person, raises his head but relaxes when he realizes it's not him Shane is talking to.

Rick's apparently awake, because he laughs. "What time is it?"

"About nine. Not supposed to be ready until one." He sits up and stretches. "Not sure sitting around doing nothing all day works for me."

"Well, I'm sure if we poke our noses out toward the community center, someone will put us to work, but I actually know that we're supposed to let Amalia cut our hair this morning. I don't know if you've really looked in the mirror lately, brother, but we both are taking shaggy to a new level."

Shane laughs, realizing that yeah, if his curls are anything like Rick's this morning, a trim probably wouldn't hurt. "You gonna shave that mess off your face?"

"Nope. But I'll trim it up nicely. How's that?"

"Better." He knows other family members have already gotten bullied into haircuts, because they didn't escape Lori's grasp after she cut Carl's yesterday. But having her cut his and Rick's would probably edge into awkwardness neither of them want for his wedding day, so Amalia it is.

He's just sorting out a shirt when Maverick goes on alert, going to nose at the door. He loves the early warning system, because it's fun to tug the door open before the person actually knocks.

Cricket's fallen victim to that before, so she just grins. "There's been a slight change to the wedding ceremony. Ever been to a wedding that used a cord, veil, and coins ceremony?"

He nods. "Didn't think Scout wanted to do anything extra like that. She didn't even want the whole groomsmen and bridesmaid parts." He honestly didn't care, so long as Rick got to stand witness. He honestly expected her to choose Christopher or Daryl for her side rather than choose between her sisters, but in the end, she selected Cricket.

"Seems Daryl had a few family heirlooms he waited til the last minute to talk to her about. They were our Nana's." She passes him and Rick each a photocopied sheet of paper. "Daddy wrote down what he remembers from Aunt Julia's wedding, and then I quizzed a few people to avoid any gaps. Probably a mish-mash of cultures at this point, but isn't that what we really are here now?"

He glances at Rick, who's mumbling a bit as he reads over the page. Everything looks in place to him, although with the religious aspects no longer present.

"It looks good to me." Honestly, she could probably tell him her sister wanted a nude wedding spoken in Klingon and he'd spend the day memorizing lines. "Anyone told Carol yet?"

Cricket laughs. "Daddy's job. I've got to go find my other half and tell her she doesn't get to lurk in the crowd, which means finding a different dress instead of that lovely mint green she picked out." She leans in to kiss his cheek and throws in a quick hug before leaving.

"I wish your grandma and mama could be here to see this," Rick says, laying his copy safely on the counter. "Grandma Jean thought you'd never marry, you know."

"Wish I'd met her back when Grandma Jean was still alive. Although that probably wouldn't have gone over well with the sheriff, considering she'd have been seventeen or younger."

"Yeah, don't figure he'd have cared for a deputy dating a high school student."

Shane reaches out to run his fingers along the sleeve of the dress shirt he selected out of the two separate bridal stores Glenn's teams cleared out. The fancy clothing wasn't a necessity, but things for morale rarely were. A few of the RVs now serve as fancy clothing shops, and everyone in the community got a nice outfit for today. The folks who could sew were mighty busy making alterations the last few weeks.

"Gonna be the first orange themed wedding I've ever seen. Glad she opted just for vests and ties and not a jacket as warm as it still is." Shane likes the option, not the least of which that he knows Scout chose the color to match the necklace he gave her for their engagement.

"It's cheerful. How many pink, purple, or blue weddings, all pastels, have we seen over the years? Nice to be bright."

"Be better if we don't make Amalia come looking for us," Shane jokes. It's time to get the day under way.

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle catches Carol around the waist as soon as she's safely closed the oven door. "Need to talk to you for a moment, Mouse."

She smiles and lets him lead her away from Glynnis, who looks curious but smiles when he just grins at her. They sit at one of the unused tables and he takes her hands.

"I'm hoping you got the general idea of your role today when the girls made sure your dress matched theirs in the color scheme," he starts out. "But there's been a change in how the ceremony's going to be run, and we want you to take part."

"I thought they only wanted one witness each?" She's looking puzzled, remembering some of the debate over how crazy things might get if they included every sibling, which had surprised Glenn when he got counted. Merle would figure by now the young man would understand that adoption by one Dixon meant adoption by all.

"That was the intent. But Daryl's trip over to Thomson was to retrieve a treasure box of sorts. Family on Guam, they're pretty inclusive. When I came back from leave with custody of Daryl, Lil's family just absorbed him right in. Didn't matter he was a haloe boy. He was Lil's son by intent and her family went head over heels for that little lost lamb. Even insisted I have him baptized properly in the Catholic Church, with Lil's sister Julia and her uncle Gio standing as godparents. Julia's Scout's godmother too, but by the time she was born, Julia was married, so her husband's her godfather. By the time the younger kids came along, it should have been one of the signs Lil lost her way when she stopped taking the kids to Mass every Sunday no matter where we lived. So, the younger kids, they were never really part of the faith, and they know the traditions, but it's not something they've grown up among like Scout and Daryl did, between Lil and then the year we spent on Guam after Lil was gone."

"I didn't realize Daryl and Scout were religious," Carol says. Her own faith is something quiet and tender that she rarely speaks about, even to Merle. He's not even entirely sure if she has a particular Protestant faith or just follows Christianity in general, just that after years of a Catholic wife, that's not Carol's path.

"Not much anymore. Guess they're both officially lapsed in the eyes of the Church, although I figure on different reasons for each of them. Daryl stayed with it longer, but he had more good years he can actually remember with Lil than Scout. She's always associated it with her mother too much, I suspect." He sighs, not really wanting to think of his ex-wife on today of all days. He hopes she's alive and safe down in Texas, but he's also glad she wasn't close enough for him to feel like he should go fetch her. "But Julia's nothing like Lil. She loves all those kids so deeply, you'd think she gave birth to each and every one of them."

"You mentioned once that you should have stayed on Guam, with the family. Who all is still there - or was, before the world changed?"

"It would have been a different life, maybe a better one, but I didn't. Julia's always stayed in touch. Lost her only daughter about four years ago. Car accident while she was attending college in North Carolina, not even twenty years old. Josefa and Robert only had the two girls, but there's still a pretty big extended family between them both. Lots of aunties and uncles, between their siblings and those siblings' children. Josefa's 75 this year, still the family matriarch enough that she racks up the phone calls to remind me that she never gave me permission not to be family."

"I'm glad they stayed in touch for more than just the children then." Carol squeezes his hands.

"Yeah, me too. The point of the impromptu family history is that Daryl's gone to Guam at least every other year to visit Julia, every year since Rosa died. Julia gave him a box of family heirlooms last trip. Said she had a dream he'd need them. Ever been to a Catholic wedding, especially a Mexican or Filipino one?"

She shakes her head and he smiles as he begins to explain. She worries still about her place in the girls' lives, and he's about to hand her a sign of exactly how important Scout sees her right now.

~*~ SW ~*~

"Feeling nervous, son?" Hershel asks. His smile is kind, but a little mischievous as Shane and Rick wait for the signal that everything is about to begin. Everyone is seated, and Christopher has just taken his seat with his guitar, joining the motley group of musicians who wanted to play today. If Christopher is ready, so is Scout.

"A little, but more that I don't screw up the ceremony. I've never been more sure of anything in my life than marrying her." He expected to have an attack of nerves, maybe even a bout of hyperventilating like Rick had before his wedding, but nothing but a deep-seated assurance that this is what his future holds happened all day.

Hershel's dressed much as they are, black slacks and crisp white shirt, but where their vests and ties are a bronzy orange, his are black. Although not a religious ceremony, the man has his well-worn Bible in his hands, his cues tucked within.

"Having done this twice myself to two very different, but very wonderful women, I can only say that neither of you will ever be perfect, but committing to each other this way? Being together is as close to perfection as you'll ever find on this Earth."

Shane smiles, seeing the sadness on the older man's face as he's reminded that Hershel lost the second of those two women just months ago. Before he can reply, the musicians start playing.

Cricket and Tara make their way down the aisle they've set up in the open area next to the community center, holding hands. For a wedding, the colors are reversed, because it's the female attendants who are wearing white, although both have orange scarves tied gypsy style around the waists of their simple white gowns and the same gauzy material has been layered over the top of the gown.

Carol and Daryl are next, with Shane semi-impressed that they found a vest and tie to match his in the bridal store loot. Carol's dress was already in theme, although instead of a scarf, her dress actually has splashes of orange all over as if the dress is painted with watercolors.

The music changes to the familiar bridal march and Merle and Scout emerge from the community center. He only has eyes for Scout at first, her vivid orange dress contrasting against her dark coloring and the dark colors her father wears. Merle's dress shirt is black, his vest black, with only his tie a nod to the orange color theme. He glances to Merle as they come to a halt at Shane's side, and the older man's smile is welcoming.

Hershel's voice rings out, following the script they liked best in all the ones they had to choose from. "Today is a celebration. A celebration of love, of commitment, of friendship, of family, and of two people who are in it for forever. You don't have to have a ceremony to have a marriage. We marry, because despite all of our differences, love is what we all share. It's the great unifier – our one universal truth. That no matter who we are, where we've come from, what we believe, we know this one thing: love is what we're doing right.

"That's why you are both standing here. And that's why you all are here to watch them stand up here. We have all loved in our lifetimes, and in this moment, we're reminded that the ability to love is the very best part of our humanity. All of us here today have our own love stories. Some are short, others long. Some are yet unwritten, while others are just getting to the good part. There are chapters in all of our stories that are sad or disappointing – and others that are exciting and full of adventure.

"We're all here – because we want those moments for you. We're here to hope with you, to support you, to be proud of you, and to remind you that love isn't happily ever after, love is the experience of writing your story. It's not one moment – not even this moment. It's every moment. Big ones like saying "I love you," getting engaged – but mostly a million little ones that come in between the big moments.

"We use the words we have to write stories, poems, and songs about love. And even though we describe love in different ways – and even though love can look different from one person to the next – we all know it when we see it. And we see it here."

Hershel turns to Merle, a wistful but happy smile on his face. "I've never met a father who was willing to give up his daughter, so instead I ask, do we have your blessing for this marriage?"

"You do." Merle's voice is rough, huskier than normal, and he kisses Scout's forehead before turning to envelop Shane into a hug between the three of them. He says, "First time I saw you with my daughter was the first time I knew she'd never be alone again." He steps away, leaving Scout's hand tucked in Shane's.

The vows they exchange are more poignant than he thinks anyone expected from two fairly pragmatic personalities. But after a lot of suggestions, they'd gone with one they found in one of the various books supply runners 'helpfully' brought back once they announced their intent to marry.

"My promise to you is but a simple one. I will love you today and every day that follows until the end of time. With the passing of every minute, my love grows stronger and my devotion grows deeper. I will love and cherish you until my eyes can no longer see your gentle smile, my ears can no longer hear your loving words, and my hands can no longer feel your tender caress. From this moment until my dying breath, you are my love–you are my life."

Hershel is downright beaming by now, and Shane's glad they chose him to officiate the ceremony. "This is a new beginning for both of you and I'd like to offer some gentle reminders to ease your life-long task of living and growing together. Be kind to each other. Be gentle and forgiving with each other. Communicate with each other. Share the joy that's in your heart and the sorrow that burdens your soul.

"Do you, Shane Griffin Walsh, welcome Salome Camarin Dixon as your wife, offering her your love and encouragement, your trust and respect, as together you create your future?"

They wanted to combine vows and rings, so the durable copper-colored silicone rings popular among married law enforcement are placed in his hand by Rick. He feels no hesitation as he slides the ring onto her finger. Nothing in his entire life felt more certain than this. "I do."

"Do you, Salome, welcome Shane as your husband, offering him your love and encouragement, your trust and respect, as together you create your future?"

Scout's reply is as fast and firm as his, her hands steady as he feels the unfamiliar weight of the ring against his finger. "I do."

"Our world has changed so much in the last handful of months that none of us truly recognize what lays outside this haven we have been led to. I was no holy man before, not a pastor, and not a priest. But the needs of our people to endure and rebuild mean that we also need someone to minister to us. I am honored that I was asked to do so today. There's no higher authorities to govern us but our own free will.

"Today, Scout and Shane declare before all of us that they shall live together in marriage. In the traditional way, they entered into their marriage with the making of vows and promises and the giving and receiving of rings, an outward symbol of their voluntary commitment to one another. Therefore, it is my pleasure, that I now pronounce them husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride!"

The catcalls and cheers from their audience are not unexpected, especially considering Honey's in the audience, but Shane lingers over the kiss, knowing this is a moment that only happens once for them. They're both smiling and a little breathless when they finally part.

Hershel raises a hand to let their audience know the ceremony's been changed a little. "Our couple has a tradition from the bride's side. The heirlooms used today, you may have seen as part of a Catholic ceremony, or even just a cultural one, but they hold sentimental value to our bride as they graced the wedding of both her grandmother and aunt. They've asked several members of their family to act as sponsors for their union.

"Scout and Shane, I ask Daryl and Carol to join us and to lay a veil, a belu, over you to clothe you together. Let this be a symbol of the faithful love you have for each other. Through the passing of the years, let the belu remind you that you belong to each other and to no one else."

Carol's hands are shaking and she's starting to cry, but she gets the belu across Scout's hair with a bright smile, pinning it into place as Daryl draws it across Shane's shoulder. The younger man gives Shane that little half-smile of his and squeezes, both a comfort and a warning, as he steps back.

"Scout and Shane, I invite Christina and Tara to place a lazo over you. This lazo symbolizes an infinite bond of love you share that keeps your relationship strong in the face of adversity, as well as that you both are no longer two, but one in marriage. May this lazo remind you to face your life together courageously and to be mutual in support of each other in carrying out your duties and responsibilities as a couple."

Cricket's grin is absolute mischief and joy as she helps her partner raise the rosary over their heads and rest its figure eight shape along their shoulders.

Shane feels Scout's hands flex in his and he squeezes back, wondering which of them will give in to emotion first.

Hershel smiles at them both. "May your love grow stronger and bind you closer together through the years. I now ask the sponsors to remove the lazo and belu." Their family members step forward and remove the rosary and belu, which Cricket holding the aged silver while Carol keeps the belu.

"Once, coins were given and received not in a spirit of reciprocity but in a give and take relationship. Today, the coins are a reminder of good stewardship for all couples; that they will mutually support each other, their family, and the world around them. There's not a person here today who hasn't born witness to their dedication to the community."

Rick steps forward and lets the silver coins flow from his hands to Shane's. Shane knows usually a priest would hold them and bless them, but this was the only change he made to the patchwork ceremony. It doesn't matter that Rick's marriage didn't work out. Shane knows his brother will always be here to remind him of the promises he makes today.

"Scout, I give you these coins as a pledge of my dedication to you, our community, and our family." He says the words with feeling, catching on those a little more than he did his vows.

"I accept them and in the same way pledge my dedication to you, the care of our community, and the welfare of our family." Her hands shake but firm as the coins slide from his hands to hers. She holds them for a moment, and he thinks she is going to improvise, but then she pours them back into his hands so he can return them to Rick for safekeeping.

"And now, to all the friends and family who have come to celebrate this union, it is my pleasure to present the newly united couple, Scout and Shane."

Instead of a dash for an exit, they are instead passed along the tide of family and friends for hugs, kisses, and congratulations. By the time they reach the open area where Carol's army of helpers set up tables outdoors, that same army has begun to shift food onto the buffet tables and for the first time, Shane understands the sheer mass of what their community is presenting for them.

He escorts Scout to their table, smiling as Merle's escort of Carol follows and the man coaxes her to sit next to Shane. He doesn't think anyone warned her she would be treated fully as mother of the bride today. Merle takes his own seat, Tara to his left, and Rick to hers, while Daryl ends up at Carol's right and Cricket past him.

Jamie and the younger siblings begged off sitting at the head table, Jazz grumbling about not wanting to be stared at, so they're among the helpers as Glynnis and Katherine sweep along gathering plates for those seated before the buffet opens for everyone. It doesn't take as long as you'd think to seat nearly two hundred people, but Shane's still amused by the fact that Honey brought a single plate for he and Scout to share. Even the elderly are out in the sunshine, plates brought to them by a swarm of helpful children.

Merle gives everyone a few minutes to settle in before he rises. It draws attention as it always does. He wonders if he should be worried about the speech, considering Merle's quirky sense of humor.

"I hope everyone enjoys the significance of today, that it's a sign that we're going to endure what's happened to our world and keep going." He turns to look at Scout, who reaches up to take his hand. He faces the crowd again. "Ten months ago, I got that bone-chilling call every family member of someone serving in the military dreads. 'Mister Dixon, you need to get on the first plane to San Antonio, _now_.' When we got there, the odds my baby girl was going to survive were so low the doctors wouldn't even give them. But they didn't know Scout. Every day she got stronger. But it reminded me of the ultimate blessing each day with your child is, especially when I knew as soon as she healed, she was going right back out to serve her country.

"The world had a different plan for that, and instead, she's serving her people here. Just about every one of us owes our safety here to Scout - and to the man who was the missing piece to her heart all these years. I look at her and can't believe that the tiny baby I could almost hold in one hand is now a woman grown. I'm a blessed man, surrounded by beautiful daughters, handsome sons, and a beautiful partner, so I know that Shane understands how hard today is." He brushes a kiss across the back of Scout's knuckles before releasing her hand.

"Met Shane a few months back in a camp of survivors. A lesser man wouldn't have dealt with how I handled the grief of thinking my family was gone, but thankfully, he gave me a purpose even if he didn't realize it at the time. That bought me time, time for my family to return, bringing so many of you along to become part of our community here. Today just a formality about his place in our family, because he's been part of us since the day he first stood at Scout's side against the evils of the world."

Merle turns back to Scout and Shane. "Twenty-seven years ago today, I welcomed you into this world and bringing up a girl terrified me. But today, I look at you, with the man by your side, and I know every minute of those years in between led to this. You and your siblings will always be the best things I've ever managed in my life, and each time any of you bring a new person into the family will always be as equally terrifying and rewarding as each child being born was.

"There's always been just a little something missing in my daughter's smile for so many years, and Shane, I can attest that you being part of her life remedied that. If I could have been a fairy godfather and conjured a man suited to the complexity of my daughter's heart, I don't think I could have done better than you. Keep your promises to each other, love as fiercely as you both do everything else in life, and take care of each other as completely in fifty years as you do today." He reaches for his cup, filled with juice just like Scout's, and raises it to the crowd. "Join me in wishing them both all the happiness they so richly deserve."

As Merle returns to his seat, Scout leans in to kiss his cheek. "Hu guaiya hao, Daddy."

He smiles at them both. "Just remember my speech was the nice one after your sister gets done." Scout groans and looks down at Cricket in what might not be mock alarm.

Before Shane can ask, Rick's standing, and his blue eyes are damn near twinkling as he does. "I honestly was starting to think I'd never get to give a speech on Shane's behalf. After thirty-five years of waiting, maybe I'll be kind today." That draws enough laughs. "Shane and I have been attached at the hip since our diaper days. His Grandma Jean lived next door to my family, so just about every milestone we've had in life, the other's been witness to. College, my own wedding, the birth of my son, years of partnership in the sheriff's department. A few months back, it was Shane whose hands kept pressure on a wound that nearly killed me in the line of duty. So, he's not just my best friend, or my partner, but my brother in all the ways that count.

"But the stories I could tell of the things he's pulled over the years of a long and glorious bachelorhood probably aren't entirely appropriate for today, even if Scout would be amused. His sermons on the glories of staying single are some of my favorite moments from our police partnership. I've always known there was something in my brother that was missing, something that wound him too tight to make up for its lack.

"When I first met Scout, those of you not witness to that might be amused to know that I'm still surprised to this day she didn't add to my bullet wound collection. I was a week out of a coma and disoriented, but thankfully, she was inclined to ask questions first. I never dreamed she'd be what was missing from Shane's life, and it took me a bit to see it, but when I did, I've never been more grateful to anyone other than the mother of my child for the gift of new love in the world.

"I know our world is darker and chaotic now, but I want you to each remember that you're each other's light in any darkness and what all those years without that light felt like. May you both always walk in happiness together." Rick raises his glass as he finishes the words directed to the wedding couple, and Shane follows, choked with emotion. To have Rick brush away the rough points, to remember that horrific day as an honor between brothers, means more than he can express.

They decided on only three speeches aside from their own, but as Cricket stands, Shane wonders if this'll end up more of a roast than Rick aimed for.

"The best thing about having a determined, independent older sister is that she usually shocks your father so much that your own antics seem much less shocking in comparison. For example, most of you know my lovely partner, Tara. Coming out in Georgia is easier these days than it was ten years ago, but it's still sometimes a tangled situation to unravel. For me, it was made as easy as a breakfast conversation with my father, who quietly thanked me for not being escorted home by an off-duty police officer with a confiscated fake ID to reveal boys weren't my cup of tea. Thankfully for Shane, my sister's days of sneaking into the gay clubs in the city were more of a wingman duty than a love of the fairer sex."

Shane turns to Scout, arching a brow. _That_ is not a story he's heard yet, although it makes sense that if Christopher was trying out clubs, his best friend would be along for the ride. Scout shrugs while Merle laughs.

"We met Shane just a handful of months ago. He had a handful of untrained civilians and suddenly he's got this bossy broad marching in with her staff sergeant stripes. A lesser man might have been insulted. Shane, well, he just ended up looking like a man who'd been handed the keys to heaven without even knowing he wanted them first. Took him a little bit to realize what a few of us saw that first day, so I'm glad he wised up quickly.

"My sister's life for the last nine years has often been spent far away from home. She's seen lands even more exotic than the island she was born on or our lovely state of Georgia... Tanzania, Cyprus, the Philippines and jaunts to their neighbors. Our family always hoped that somewhere she'd find someone to make her happy, and it's funny how it ends up being a Georgia boy in the end anyway. Guess there's something about we Dixon girls and Georgia cops." She flashes Tara a smile as her partner laughs. "And protect and serve is definitely in Shane's DNA. No one here can be surprised that my sister brought more than physical scars out of her years of service. I already knew he was good for her, but I knew he was her forever when I saw how he treated her when a flashback brought her down. I can only wish that sort of devotion on all of you who haven't found your own forever yet.

"Scout, there will never be a day I don't consider one of my greatest blessings being your first little treasure. Shane, having you as a big brother is my newest blessing, and I don't have the words for how much I love you both." She doesn't toast right away, slipping from her spot to hug them both, but everyone else knows the moment's there. Her voice doesn't carry beyond their table while in the embrace. "Please be happy, be safe, be forever."

The roles they play are dangerous, but Shane hopes that the promise he makes her then will hold true, especially when she cups his face to kiss his forehead. Merle nudges her with a grin, offering her his seat next to Tara, along with a long, comforting hug. It's unsurprising that Daryl shifts down without being asked to let Merle sit next to Carol.

It takes Cricket's elbow to his ribs to remind him that technically, he and Scout should speak. It's the part he fumbled the most, because despite his gift with words, exposing how he feels about her to others is harder. It's a private thing, a gift between them, and he knows she feels as equally reticent. But he stands.

"When I met my first Dixon, let's just say the impression was more Hell's Angel than family man. But whatever instinct told me the man who called me Deputy Dawg within ten minutes of meeting me was someone who needed to stick around is one I'm always going to be grateful for. Six weeks after that day, this tall Amazon of a Marine walks into camp and proceeds to tell me just how much danger I've left my people in. Maybe I should have been offended, but I was just glad to have someone else that realized what needed to be done that I think I fell in love on the spot.

"Rick and I were talking just this morning how we wished Scout could have met my Grandma Jean, who did more of my raising than my parents did, or even my poor mama. They both would have adored Scout, and this big family I've found my way in. Not sure the world would survive Grandma Jean and Scout teaming up, but man, it's a sight I wish I could have seen. My only family for a long time has been Rick and Carl and Lori, and they did their best, but now I know what I've been missing out on not having a sister, or little brothers, or the weirdness of an uncle five years younger than I am." Daryl snorts from his spot down the table. "Not to mention Carol, who never seems to let the little problem of being the same age stop her from mothering me as much as she does the rest of the Dixons. And that rough redneck who worried the hell outta me a few months ago, I'm glad we're family now."

"Always will be," Merle interjects. Shane smiles, drawing Scout up to stand with him, so she can take over. He slides his arm around her, fingers brushing against the scarred skin she left on full display with the beautiful dress.

"I know we tossed a wedding in the middle of all the other things we're trying to do to make our community safe and well provided for, and we can't thank everyone enough for the extra work they took on to make this happen today. Shane and I probably would have been okay just saying a few words together, in front of the immediate family, but I'm glad everyone here wanted to share in our day instead.

"I was married to my military career before, and while I can honestly say I was happy with that, the last few months have taught me what having a safe haven in the world really does. What happened to me, nearly dying, it changes how you view the world, and while I know everyone here knows as intimately as I do how fleeting and precious life and happiness are now, meeting Shane made me realize that there's happiness - and then there's _joy_. I see that same joy on my dad's face when he looks at Carol, and on my sister's face when she looks at Tara. With luck, I'll see it one day for the rest of my siblings and for each of you who hasn't yet found it.

"The island I was born on has a concept called _inafa' maolek_, which translates literally as 'to make good'. It's about restoring harmony. We are doing that here. So many have lost loved ones, and we have children who lost parents. Like any community - any family - we will always have those who are closer than others, but the basic tenant here is that we will support each other, our children, and our elderly. Today is the first wedding here at Homestead, our first celebration. It won't be our last." She raises her glass and Shane and everyone else follows. "Let's keep enjoying this wonderful food, and then move inside for music, celebration, and dessert!"

Shane takes the time when they're reseated to kiss his bride, marveling at that unfamiliar term and knowing it will never get old.


	29. Loved

**September 24, 2010**

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane takes the moment where they're waiting on everyone to file in to cup Scout's face, stealing little kisses as she laughs between them. No one seems to mind, everyone admiring the smooth lines of the white cake and the dozens of orange and yellow hibiscus flowers that have been crafted for it. Everyone's excited for dessert, and he figures that the dozen flavors of ice cream might prove more popular than either wedding or groom cake, but they gamely cut the cake.

To the cries of "you gotta smear it on her face," he grins and reminds everyone she carries a knife and gun on far too regular a basis. Of course, that response time just means she gets him first.

When things turned more formal than words between them in front of family and friends, Scout didn't really want a solo dance, until the wedding addicts convinced her to do it during dessert, moving to the other dances as a solo. They intended for all the songs to be from the collection of music that had gathered in the community center over the past months, but after they did pick their song, all it took was Jazz's quiet request for the first song, at least, to become a live version.

He's not sure if the musicians around the Homestead recorded the music that starts, or if they somehow found one meant for live singing since he's seen Carol's note for future music nights, but it's just Jazz and Beth without the musicians from earlier. He leads Scout into the half of the community center cleared for dancing, stepping close to her just as the duo bring their own flair to "When You Say Nothing at All." He's heard the blended version before mixing the original and the tribute, but the two teenagers just might have that one beat.

But that might be the fact that practical, rational Scout is singing the words softly too. He doesn't think she remembers any of her misgivings about the solo first dance now. He certainly doesn't, and he regrets when it does come to an end, other than they take the opportunity for another lingering kiss in front of everyone.

Jazz is switching the music over to the recorded CD now, each song spaced with a gap between songs so it doesn't have to be babysat quite as much, so he takes the tap on his shoulder with grace and lets Merle step in.

Carol's smile is a little shy, and he wonders when the last time she danced with someone is. But her step is confident enough when he leads her out, maybe helped along by the fact that there's no shyness among the others joining them as the country theme continues with Heartland's "I Loved Her First."

"You look so happy," Carol says softly. "It's a good look on you."

"It is on you too, Carol," he replies. It really is. They've both changed in different ways from the people they were when they met by the side of the highway in a world gone mad. It's still the same crazy place outside this cocoon of safety they've created here, but maybe a cocoon is right for the both of them.

He follows Carol's look toward Merle and Scout, noticing his wife... his _wife_... has her head on her father's shoulder as they sway more than dance. He thinks Merle's singing the words. He and Carol are silent as they dance, and they aren't the only couple with attention more on father and daughter than their own footwork.

As the song's last note fades, Carol kisses his cheek. "Take care of her, of you both, Shane. Hers is not the only heart you'd break if you don't."

It settles deep in his gut just how right she is with that, as he steps aside once again to let Merle claim his dance partner.

Thankfully, the songs from here on out aren't personal, just a mix of slow and upbeat love songs. It gives him time for his emotions to settle, especially when Cricket simply starts their dance with a kiss to the cheek Carol didn't kiss.

He's loved.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol sinks into the seat between Jacqui and Michonne with her cup of very much non-alcoholic punch. The two cups of the other stuff, in addition to the wine from the toasts, was already far beyond her usual want for alcohol and she wanted to remember everything about this day.

The other woman smiles at her. "How's the mother of the bride doing?"

"Still being amazed at _being_ the mother of the bride. I think I've danced more tonight than ever in my life." She's danced with Shane, Merle, Daryl, Jamie, and a very bashful Jazz so far. She begged off a dance with Christopher, needing a drink and a break for her feet. "Feels a bit like a twist on Cinderella."

"Something tells me there are no pumpkins in your future at midnight," Jacqui says. "It's good to see you so happy. You're damn near glowing as much as the bride."

"I never expected her to include me in the ceremony today, not over Glynnis or Christopher or one of the other siblings."

"I suspect she wants to acknowledge how much you mean to the family. Merle's been alone a long time," Michonne adds. "I know I love seeing him so happy. As his attorney, I've had the unfortunate privilege of meeting the former Mrs. Dixon a few times. You are so much better suited to him."

Carol stills, looking to the younger woman, who smiles solemnly. "She stays in touch?"

"Only through me, and only then in regards to paperwork and alimony issues. He had to call me for her contact information when Scout was hurt."

"He paid her alimony? But with the legal charges, I wouldn't think a judge would order that?"

"Judge didn't. State calls it alimony because bribery to stay away seems illegal. She remarried two years ago, so at least that stopped."

"I have to ask, what is she like?" Jacqui's expression is pure curiosity.

"In appearance, much like Honey. More Chinese than Chamorro, very pretty still even in her early fifties. In personality, very remote and closed off. I suspect she does care for her children in some way, because she's requested and received yearly updates on them. I know she has been in contact with Cricket for a few years."

Carol fumbles her cup at that. "Does Merle know that?"

Michonne nods. "She's an adult. Their non-contact agreement only covered minor children, and she wasn't the one to contact Cricket first. As to the state of that relationship, you'll have to ask Cricket herself."

"But she didn't come to the hospital to see Scout?"

"Best guess? She isn't capable of facing the two children she hurt the most. I don't think Scout or Daryl has spoken to her since the divorce. Cricket's a neutral party, too young when her mother left to harbor the same level of hurt."

"I can't imagine not coming regardless if my daughter was critically injured." Jacqui nods agreement with Carol's words.

"Me either, especially now that I'm a mother. But she's a mystery to me, other than to say that mental illness defense she used against the neglect charges is likely true. Just not the postpartum depression part." Michonne slides her empty cup into the stack of discards on the table and smiles. "Enough dour talk for today. I'm going to go dance with your man."

She weaves her way through to capture Merle's attention as the songs change, taking Tara's place as his partner. Carol's not sure any of the Dixon males have missed a dance yet. Jazz is actually with someone his own age for the new song, dancing with Beth, which reminds Carol she hasn't seen Sophia in a while. As she scans the crowd, Jacqui nudges her.

"Sophia's over there with the other teenagers. She seemed to run out of steam about the same time you did with the dancing. She's pretty good for her age. I think Leo's two boys are trying to work up the courage to ask her to dance, though." Jacqui waves her hand toward Mateo and Sebastian, who seem to be huddled in the age-old format of boys unsure a girl will accept an invitation.

"Honey's been giving her lessons. I know she danced with most of the family tonight." Keeping track was easy on the dance floor, especially with the orange ribbons woven as streamers into her daughter's steadily lengthening blonde locks.

"Hmm-hmm, she did. Even Jazz. Didn't look like she wanted to switch off to Shane at all. Luckily, the groom hid his amusement well at that."

Carol figures Sophia's crush on Jazz definitely did add to her not enjoying a switch to another dance partner. That little tidbit is going to keep things interesting in a family where Sophia sees the rest as siblings. "Have you danced at all?"

"Twice. Once with Jim, once with Jorge. Boy's light on his feet for an ex-gang member. Plotting on a turn with your man before the night's out, maybe his little brother too."

"And not the groom?" Carol teases.

"I think that man's going to last about as long as the females considered relatives before he sneaks off with his wife and we don't see them again til Sunday morning's run. Which reminds me. I got Scout's surprise for Shane smuggled into their cabin once Rick guaranteed he was clear of the cabin for good."

"That'll be interesting. I don't think he expects it at all. She was so careful for the ceremony to not give it away, too." Carol smiles. Finding the embroidery machine wasn't hard at all, but the blank name tapes a little more so, until one of the guardsmen caught on and recommended an alteration shop near the air base outside Atlanta.

The song's ending and Carol smiles softly. "Well, that's sweet of him."

Beth's been whisked away by one of the other teenage boys, but Jazz has sought out Lori, coaxing the pregnant woman onto the dance floor probably by virtue of Lori being hard pressed to tell the boy no about anything.

"She's been doing her best to fade into the background since we came inside. He's not the first one to go over to her. Scout sat out a dance earlier with her. About gave Andrea a damn stroke to watch too."

"Where is our resident grouch?"

"Disappeared with the pretty blond cop off Karen's team about ten minutes ago after a dance. Doubt we'll see them back. Fairly sure he was the consolation prize because she's been trying for Rick's attention since the dancing opened for everyone."

"And Rick?"

"Has been as busy as possible dancing with everyone _but_ Andrea. She still isn't in his good books after he caught on to the gossip about Lori she started before the baby news. I think she got the point when he danced with Amy after turning her down."

Carol looks around for the best man, who seems to be upholding best man duties by staying on the dance floor. His current partner is Lenore, and the pretty redhead seems fairly entertained by whatever's being said during the slow song. "He's still on the roam?"

"Far as I've seen or heard, although Shane's probably the only one who knows the full details. Seems like he's enjoying being an eligible bachelor, and the ladies don't seem to mind taking him out for a spin."

It makes Carol look around for the rest of the 'quarry folk' and she's happy to see that Dale's settled in nicely with the two older men from Grady and a few of the more spry nursing home residents. The card game they've got going might be out of place at a normal wedding, but she's just happy to see everyone enjoying themselves. Amy's on the dance floor, looking happy enough to be partnered with Jamie, and T-Dog's sitting with Amanda Wakefield looking happy enough for the wheelchair bound woman's company. Glenn's in Honey's clutches on the dance floor, looking a bit panicked while Honey looks about to burst out laughing, so there's no telling what the girl said to the poor guy. But that leaves one rather obvious absence.

"How's Jim doing?"

"Better lately. Sending the interested kids down for lessons in the afternoons is really helping him rebuild himself, I think. Today's just a little more than he's good to handle, so he went down to the shop to tinker a bit. Couple of the Vatos weren't much interested in dancing went down with him, so at least he's not by himself."

"That's good to hear. Can't do much but give him time and space." Once, her world was so narrow one loss would have killed her, she thinks. Now, looking around at her various family members enjoying the post-wedding celebration, she tries to imagine losing multiples. It doesn't bear imagining. Whatever Jim needs to put one day in front of another, they'll provide.

Merle's approaching as soon as the song ends, passing school teacher Gail off to her grinning co-teacher, who seems happy with the new dance partner. "Now, darlin', are you bored with the dance floor already?" he asks, sitting beside her and greeting Jacqui.

"Just needed to give my feet a break. The sandals are very pretty to look at, not so kind to the feet." She motions to Jacqui. "If you're looking to dance again, Jacqui's been tapping her feet along the last two songs, and no nice gentlemen in sight."

He laughs and stands after a kiss to her temple. "Can take a hint. Wanna show me your footwork, Miss Jacqui?"

The other woman laughs and accepts the offered hand, following Merle out as dance partners shuffle and reassemble under the opening notes of the next song. Carol watches as they both start laughing when the old school country song starts playing, but it doesn't deter either of them from a pretty good two-step. Enjoying how far they've come from the jumbled group of survivors in the quarry, Carol goes off to see if there's any ice cream left before she sees if her feet are up to a little more.

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane's debating the logistics of not even making it to the bed with Scout's hand already in the open waistband of his slacks before they even got the cabin's door open. But he's going to manage this one last tradition, even if it kills him to grab her wrist.

"Scout, baby, just a few more feet."

She laughs and releases him, sliding her arms over his shoulders as he lifts her and nudges the door open. Besides, carrying her over the threshold means a fast trip to the bed in the small interior of the cabin.

He's stumbling through the kiss she initiates as he crosses the threshold, and he does manage to kick the door closed. But before he can drop her to the bed, he spots something out of place.

"Why's one of your uniforms on the bed?" He knows it's hers, because while many of the teams wear military gear while on runs, none of the civilians wear anything displaying rank. Scout would probably personally build a pillory to confine them in if they did.

She stills, smiling at him. "Why don't you put me down and take a look."

Puzzled, he does that, not noticing as she wriggles up the bed to stretch out because his attention is now on what the carefully positioned sleeve hid... her changed name tape. He picks up the uniform shirt and runs his fingers across the raised letters of his own last name.

"Scout, you don't have to..." They didn't even discuss it. He just assumed with her family ties and long treasured independence, she wouldn't change her surname. Walsh is his father's name, not something he attaches pride to, but it is also Grandma Jean's, which he does.

"I want to. Lots of Dixons in our little world, not so many Walshes."

He's speechless for a moment, laying the shirt carefully on the chest at the foot of the bed and crawling up the bed to hover over her. "Every time I think I've got you all figured out, you surprise me again," he says.

"Gotta keep it interesting," she says, and movement distracts him from the intensity of emotion the name change evokes. Her hand is resuming its earlier path and he helps her push his clothing down his hips as he lowers his body to hers. She scrabbles at his buttons, getting his chest exposed to her touch, while he ducks his head to her throat, remembering their first night as he slides down the straps of her dress. The skirt flows around them as she guides him to her, the scrap of cloth under the skirt no real barrier to their equal determination for _now_.

It's not sweet or leisurely, and if his "I love yous" lose more and more coherency each time their hips meet, hers do to.

He loves this woman so damn much, whose sweat slick skin slides against his own, and who matches his intensity with fire of her own.

It takes them a while, after, to detangle from formal clothing not really meant to be worn through making love, no matter what the movies portray. But the kisses they exchange during the process are worth every minute of that part too.

~*~ LG ~*~

"Abby asleep?" Lori asks as Daryl shuts the door behind him.

"Yeah. Curled up with Isabelle in her bunk. Looks like they fell asleep watching _The Little Mermaid_." The kids under sixteen all were sent on their way as darkness fell, but Daryl and Lori both stayed longer. With Patricia back at the house, the younger kids were well supervised, and it proved again that Abby is slowly regaining her independence when she left with Isabelle, Sophia, Al, Jazz, and Carl without a protest. "Still kinda weird to not have Andre in the puppy pile of kids."

Michonne took a few weeks to just revel in her son being alive and stayed in the house, but having her own space soon became a priority. Since Carl rarely stayed with Rick, he moved out of the family unit he was assigned and into one of the duplex units so Michonne could have a ground floor place for her and Andre.

Three out of the five prior nights, Abby slept in the girls' room instead of with Daryl and Lori. During those nights, Lori discovered Daryl's likely to join her even if it's not part of their little benefits arrangement. He likes to tuck against her back and sleep with a hand curled under the curve of her belly. She's afraid to talk about the change, that he might get embarrassed and call it off entirely.

He looks at the book in her hands and sits down to peer at the page. "What's she up to this week then?"

His level of interest in a baby not his is appealing in a way she's not sure she should admit to, considering the checkered path that led to this baby's existence and his original objections that Scout might get hurt. "Why are you so sure it's a girl?"

He shrugs. "Always guessed right with Merle's kids and with Abby. Was running about 75% right on my coworkers over the years. Seems I'm better when I guess girl. Besides, you got a boy already, so a girl would be nice, right?"

There's that little ache, a twinge. Abby's a girl, and Lori's definitely fallen for the little girl. "Yes, it would be nice."

Daryl stretches a little, running his finger down the page. "Says she's the size of an avocado."

"If an avocado could dance. She was excited by all the music in the party. Or maybe the orange juice I drank, but I'm going to pretend it was the music."

"You can feel her already?" It's a testament to their level of comfort that he doesn't ask before he touches, sliding his hand under the edge of her shirt to rest against the swell of her belly. He's still the only person other than Cricket and Abby to rub a hand across the baby bump. She's showing more than she did with Carl, but the book says that's normal for a second pregnancy. "She's going to be a lil asskicker then, already romping around."

"It started today, actually. I wasn't entirely sure until I was back here and in the quiet, but yeah, she's definitely on the move. You probably won't be able to feel it for a few more weeks at least, though. It's earlier than with Carl, but the book says that happens on later pregnancies especially if you're slender."

"Cricket's doing your ultrasound next month, right?"

"Yeah. She's going to teach Carol how as part of the training she's been doing when she lets the medical staff have an off shift. Abby's got it marked on the calendar." She hesitates, knowing it's going to be a crowded session because she's already told Shane and Scout they should be there during the ultrasound, rather than getting the video after. "You should be there too. With Abby." She adds the last part, just in case.

"A'right. If you're okay with me being there." He isn't looking at her as he says it, more at the book, but he tenses enough that she knows her reply is important to him.

"Of course I am." She yawns hard enough her jaw nearly locks and then giggles tiredly.

"You need to get some sleep." He takes his hand off her belly to tug the book away, placing her bookmark before putting it in its usual spot on the built-in bookshelf. "You were up before the chickens this morning."

"So were you," she grumbles, but she slides down in bed while he goes to shed his wedding clothes. He glances back at her when he's changed his slacks for a pair of drawstring pajama pants. She sleepily pats the bed beside her and he nods, but detours to the bathroom. She's happy for Shane and Scout, glad she was part of making sure their day went well, but she's glad they don't have parties like that very often.

She is just about asleep when he spoons himself behind her, hand against her belly as he relaxes quickly into sleep. She marvels at the ability, but not for long. It was a long, eventful day. The baby flutters gently, butterfly movements within her just under Daryl's hand, and she smiles. Lil Asskicker. Why does she just _know_ that's the name this baby's going to end up with regardless of what she calls her?

~*~ SW ~*~

"We should shower," Scout says.

He agrees, but getting out of their wedding clothes led to a leisurely exploration of each other's bodies that ended with Scout leading them both to completion a second time, arched above him with that pendant the only 'clothing' she wore this time. He doesn't think he'll ever get tired of seeing her skin shine in the dim moonlight from their window, long black hair flowing around her shoulders, knowing he's the reason she's lost all control of English and reverted to her native tongue that he's learning more and more of every day.

He's pretty sure a lot of them aren't words for public use.

He's also pretty sure his brain isn't functioning yet. He marvels that she's even remembering they have a shower already.

"An' change' tha sheets," he drawls at last.

She hums, walking her fingers up his sternum to stroke along his jawline. She stretches a little, causing her body to move against him, and he really wishes for the stamina of his college days. Then again, this is something that isn't going to last a fleeting night or weekend. He musters up the energy to capture the hand and bring it up to kiss against her ring, glad they did opt for some outward sign. Although they don't seem to need it. Both the Grady people and the rabbit farm folks referred to them as married without any introduction.

She's the first to manage to move, kneeling beside him and smiling. "C'mon, Mister Walsh. I'll scrub your back if you scrub mine."

"Well, if you put it that way, Mrs. Walsh..." He's pretty sure that phrase is going to take a few years for the new and happy to wear off.

~*~ GR ~*~

Glenn marvels at the changes in his life that led to him being considered an appropriate chaperone to the older teenagers who have permission to continue the dancing and entertainment until midnight. The newly married couple didn't make it past what would normally be supper time, the younger kids were gone by dark, and the adults over twenty-five didn't last past ten. There were enough odd pairs drifting out that Glenn wondered if there were going to be a lot of interesting mornings after. He's tired, no more dancing left in him, and Maggie doesn't seem to be as perky as normal either. They've retired to a corner table with Cricket, Tara, Carlos, Sam, and Ana.

The oldest of the Vatos is probably the oldest in the community center right now, and he stuck around to make sure his 'boys' behaved themselves around the ladies, or so he initially said. From the needling Cricket and Tara have going, they suspect he's gone sweet on one of the young women and isn't wanting to acknowledge it yet.

"You could just go ask her to dance," he finally interjects. "Then you'll know if she thinks you're too old for her, and these two will have to suck it up if she does."

Carlos looks like he's considering it and finally rises. Glenn isn't even sure what girl is being discussed until the Vato comes to a stop next to Zoe, originally from the National Guard group and now on Glenn's secondary team that Jacqui leads. The man doesn't even have to _ask_ the question for his observers to have the answer, because the young fitness trainer's entire face lights up the second she sees him.

"Told you," Tara tells the rest of the table, as if they argued it. "He shows up for every single one of her classes when Scout's team's in camp. Give it a month and they'll be asking for a housing change. There's no way he was doing yoga just for personal fitness."

"Give it an hour and they'll be glad he doesn't have a roommate, even if she does," Maggie adds. Glenn has to agree. He knows the look on the older man's face, because he saw it in the mirror when he realized Maggie's flirting was serious.

That resolved, he scans the room, trying to remember that although they were told to mainly make sure no one overindulges in alcohol with no reason to truly enforce the old-world drinking age, he does have big brother duties of a sort. Beth's not dancing or even sipping on one of the cups of the bright blue punch that signifies something alcoholic. Instead, she's actually in the middle of a card game with a hodgepodge of older teens - Patrick, Zach, Julie, and Alejandro. Trust Beth to entice boys into playing Uno at a party.

But his other little sister is nowhere in sight.

"Anyone seen Honey?"

"She was dancing with Rafael last I saw her," Ana says. "He's over there eavesdropping on Carlos and Zoe though."

Cricket looks around and shakes her head. While they all know the younger girl is an adult, he still feels like he should follow up. "I'll be right back."

Asking the Vato-turned-construction-worker gives him the information that Honey stepped out to the bathroom, but that it was close to ten minutes ago. So, Glenn goes outside and knocks at the ladies' room door. No answer, but before he decides if he should press the issue or not, he realizes that from the little porch built for access to the bathroom unit outside the community center, he can see his building.

Merle's crew is slowly replacing the metal access ladders and narrow upper level walkways with wider, wooden platforms that the upper floor residents use as porches to enjoy the evenings as the months grow cooler and the mosquitoes are no longer such pests. The angle from here allows him to see the back side of his building - and to locate Honey, who is sitting near the top of the steps to her level, back against the building and feet against the railing. She's relaxed and smiling at whatever T-Dog's just said from where the man's sitting in a chair up on the main level. It's not an unusual sight in the late evenings before everyone calls it a night, even after Honey brought in the exchange student from the rabbit farm as a roommate. Lydia sometimes joins them, but not often.

Domino, the lanky pup she gave T-Dog, is sprawled across the top step to get her head in Honey's lap. He's not surprised to see Augustus lounging at the bottom of the stairs. The big catahoula male isn't usually far from wherever Honey is, except when he accompanies Daryl's teams out on runs. It makes Maggie happy to have the big dog around, so Glenn's made a point of befriending the dog.

Deciding that Honey's safe enough for the night as far as any brotherly oversight is needed, he heads back inside for one last hour of chaperoning before everyone's hustled off to bed with the reminder that it's a work day for many of them. That includes him and Maggie, who laughs at him when he fails to hide his yawn as he sits back down.

"Find her?"

"Yeah. She apparently decided to wander off home without coming back in."

"Alone?" Tara asks, arching a brow.

"Considering she's sitting on the steps shooting the breeze with T-Dog, it seems so."

Mystery solved, he, Maggie, and Tara turn to debating the order of tomorrow's run. They've pretty much turned Canton and the small towns around it into ghost towns in the two months they've been here. There were other runs for essentials like the solar panels, but while Carol may not have earned Patricia's 'drill sergeant' moniker, she has a different sort of logic to the runs she asks Scout to arrange. Scout and Shane's team finished securing the larger locales in Cumming, so now it's Glenn's turn to make sure all the goodies land in their warehouses.

He kind of wishes they could come across another cluster of survivors, good people like the rabbit farm, but as he looks around at the children and young adults enjoying the wind down of today's wedding, he's happy with what they have so far.

Maggie smiles up at him and reaches out to take the hand he's not using to make planning notes and he wonders for the first time how soon is too soon to go browse through the jewelry that's made it into their stores.


	30. Understanding

**September 30, 2010**

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol startles at the unexpected noise from the door being shoved open too hard. Even more odd is that it's Jazz behind the noise and not one of the younger kids. He gets the door closed, but his movements are jerky and he doesn't acknowledge Lori at all.

He stumbles into Carol's office and curls up on the beanbag. That's when she realizes he's crying. She rounds the desk and drops to her knees to rub tentatively at his back. When he flings arms around her middle and bury his face in her stomach as he cries, she maneuvers to sit on the beanbag too.

Lori's at the door, hovering, as worried about the boy as Carol is. Jazz is so even keeled that this outburst of emotion is unusual and alarming.

The door opens again, but it's Abby who enters this time. She spots Jazz in Carol's lap and wraps her own arms around Lori as best she can.

"Sophia is mean," the girl declares. "She yelled at Jazz and made him cry."

Lori and Carol exchange looks, figuring something's come to a head with their mutual crush.

Lori pats Abby's head. "Let's go find your Uncle Merle. We'll send him to talk to Sophia." She leads the upset child out of the office and Carol hears the lock slide into place on the outer door after she leaves.

"Jasper?" she says softly, petting his silky dark hair. He soothes at the touch.

"She doesn't believe me that I don't want to date Beth," he mumbles.

Ah. Jazz's popularity with the young ladies of Homestead is equaled only to his complete lack of return interest. He's polite, friendly, and at the wedding, danced with several of the girls near his age after the family dances.

She's also fairly sure, thanks to Maggie, that Beth's interest in the young man is entirely friendly. She's almost seventeen, and currently seems to have her eye on Gage Eldridge. The twenty-year-old farm kid doesn't seem all that uninterested either.

"Do you want me to talk to her?"

"Maybe she'll listen to you." His voice is muffled because he's making no move away from being held by her.

"You know she has a crush on you?" She's fairly certain he does, but she should verify.

He finally moves away, but stays close, trying to curl his tall frame into hers. She takes the hint and drapes her arms across his broad shoulders.

"She's only thirteen."

"Thirteen and aware that a lot of the girls want your attention."

"Beth isn't one of them or I wouldn't have made her a birthday present."

It's sweet and sad that he's so very aware of how the females around him work. "What did you make her?"

"Molasses cookies. Patricia says they're her favorite, but Maggie's are butter pecan."

"And Patricia's?" Carol has a feeling he knows everyone's, but the point now is to distract him.

"Shortbread. But it's Beth's birthday tomorrow."

Carol's helping Maggie and Patricia with the supper, which expanded to include all the Dixons at Beth's request. She can also see why the youngest Greene gets along so well with Jazz.

Whereas Sophia's interests, much like Carol's, are wide and varied, it's becoming more and more obvious that Jazz is going to apprentice to Hershel. Sophia spends her downtime bouncing from the building crew to Daryl's supply runs that double as hunting and fishing training to firearms lessons with anyone willing to train her.

Jazz, once things were settled so he wasn't at risk of being overworked, still spends his time between the animals and building crew. The studying he's been doing turned out to be veterinary textbooks, so Hershel is spending an hour each day with him and Beth, who has decided to learn enough to be an assistant.

Maybe staggering Sophia's and Jazz's duty schedule and off days so that they spend a little time with others isn't the best scenario. But she is trying to avoid Sophia overwhelming the boy. That plan's officially failed.

She fluffs his hair a little and presses a kiss to his temple. "Sophia is still learning about having freedom to do whatever she likes, and you've been absolutely wonderful with that, sweetheart, but what she did today isn't acceptable. I'll talk to her and your father will talk to her, and if that doesn't work, I'll set the girls on her."

"That's kinda mean," he says. He picks at the seam of his cargo pants. "I do like Sophia, but I know what it would look like. Everyone here knows how old I am, but..."

"I wish you hadn't learned to worry about that. But that's what you need to remember now. Everyone here knows you. No one's going to be upset that you like Sophia." Because Carol can't imagine a better first returned crush for her daughter.

"You wouldn't be? She's supposed to be my sister now."

"Honey, I love you as much as if you were mine from birth, but I think you liking Sophia actually has precedence over me being with your father."

He stiffens a little and she worries stating her affection might be more than he's ready to hear. But then he moves to hug her, mumbling, "Love you, too, mama."

Carol isn't happy that Sophia upset Jazz enough for him to cry, but she is happy that he chose her as his safe place to go to. Since he's making no move to leave, she's just going to sit here and enjoy time with her son.

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle steps into the big barn and sees Beth lingering outside one of the stalls. She looks relieved to see him and he shoos her away with a soft thank you for not leaving Sophia to her temper and hurt feelings. The blonde teenager gives him a sweet smile as she leaves.

He eases the door open to the empty stall to find his own blonde teenager curled up in a little ball of weeping misery. He slides down to sit beside her, reaching out to shake her ankle gently.

"Need to talk about it, princess?"

She shakes her head, but he ends up with his arms full and his shirt growing damp. Funny how even the apocalypse doesn't change a daughter's need for comfort. So, he rubs her back, mulling over Abby's angry assessment of Sophia's tantrum. He's kind of glad that Lori netted that particular child to calm down.

"Phia... I can't fix it if you don't talk to me."

"I wish I was older."

"I can't help with that, but I'm glad you aren't. I figure on having a few more years being the most important guy in your life."

As expected, it makes her giggle a little. "Jazz is older."

"Yes, he is, sweetheart, but you can't rush things. If he likes you too, either he'll wait for you to catch up or he won't, and if he doesn't, that'll be his loss. Being jealous of his friendships is probably a way to guarantee it's your loss, though." Jazz is loyal and he likes Sophia, but if she keeps this up, he'll lose that affection he holds for her.

"Beth's always with him. She's older and doesn't look like a little kid. And her dad likes him too."

Well, that explains probably most of the issue, the comment about Beth's looks. Sophia has her mother's delicate build, and Carol once bemoaned she was nearly twenty before she stopped looking twelve. Honey made similar complaints at Sophia's age, especially in contrast to her sisters, who despite the Chamorro dominance of their coloring, remind Merle of his own mother more than their own.

"Maybe you need to ask Jazz how he feels about Beth instead of assuming he likes her as more than a friend." He smoothes her hair, which is escaping braids, and she raises up finally to look at him.

"But she's so pretty and older, and he spends a lot of his time with her."

He smiles at the sweet description of what makes a potential 'couple' to her and is glad for the experience of older daughters. "I spend a lot of time with Amy and she's a pretty woman, but that doesn't mean I ever would see her like I do your mother."

He knows he could solve half of this by the revelation that Hershel told him Gage is sweet on Beth and it's mutual, but she needs to sort it out without that sort of outside fix.

She looks suddenly ashamed of herself. "I made him cry."

"Guess that means you owe him an apology before your explanation then. But he's going to need some time first, so you're going to go help me do the composting toilet round."

She wrinkles her nose, but accepts what is certainly a punishment duty for a teen already done with their work day. It'll give her time to think over what she needs to say, and Jazz time under Carol's gentle care to feel up to hearing it.

~*~ DD ~*~

Merle drops into the seat across from Daryl and grins. "Trust you to make us iron out a new set of credit for our folks, Daryl. But needed to be done. You still sure about this?"

Daryl nods. "Can't stay cooped up forever. Want to get this done for her before the baby comes."

"Well, priority on independent housing is for larger families, two kids or more, so you're covered there if you're determined to see this out. What's she think?"

"Wanted to get it approved first. No point in getting her hopes up. Cabin kit will make enough room for us. Carl too, if he gets tired of the boys' bunkhouse in your basement." He doesn't want to predict the near teenager's intent once Lori's no longer in the main house. He doesn't stay overnight with his father at all, part of why Rick moved to a smaller unit.

"Well, priority is going to you two and Morales due to impending stork arrivals. There's three Grady mamas that'll appreciate more space eventually. Lenore is happy as is. Figure eventually we'll be secure enough for her to move back home, so she's not wanting to hold up the queue. Think Arthur likes having his grandson with him anyway."

"How's the credit work?" Like most Dixons and supply runners, Daryl's got so many non-obligatory hours logged he may not ever use them up.

"Foundation work will be laid by the building crew for both cabins this week. They'll pull the crew's hours out of your reserve, since I'm going to run them past their usual six for it. Any extra help on putting your cabin kit together, you donate hours to their reserve, unless you make another arrangement. Every family is eligible for one kit or similar without a hit to their reserve."

"Sounds fair." Daryl's supply team found the first half dozen kits at a marina that was planning a campground expansion on yesterday's run. Glenn's team was rerouted today to follow the address the kits came from. While the big 2,500 square foot models wouldn't work, they found another dozen in inventory of the smaller kits. The materials from the larger models might be repurposed, too.

"Haven't done an actual log kit before, but I reckon we can get yours done in a month, if the family takes turns pitching in. Probably give Morales a few free hours too. Carol wants to learn a bit."

"Woman wants her fingers in all the pies, don't she?" Daryl smiles, though. Carol's busy schedule just solidifies her status in the Homestead. She covers an off day for two of the medical staff to spend time learn from the doctor on duty in addition to her regular duties.

"She's still spreading her wings." Merle's content smile fades a little. "You do aim for challenges, don't you?"

Daryl stiffens, until Merle's hand lands on his forearm in a comforting squeeze.

"Not saying there's anything wrong with where you're headed. Might not look it to the general observer. But you two fit, and I think a bit of privacy is probably what you both need."

"We're not... together."

"Yet. Woman's just waiting on you to catch up to where she already is. Might want to think on it before she decides you don't want her."

"Ain't that. It's just complicated."

"Now that sounds like where I nearly talked myself outta being with Carol. It's only complicated if you let it be. Simple question is do you want her and does she want you, because the usual parent bits don't apply. Both your kids already adore you both."

"Think you can keep Abby busy this evening?"

"Figure I might be able to. Got those kittens Glenn brought back."

"Man's a critter magnet. Best that he's hooked up with a vet's girl."

"Shane's wanting to make a run down to the Greene farm, see what's salvageable. Hershel agreed since we got that high security mesh up around the horse farm last week. Might have to add some border patrol to the work rosters, but we approved the trip for next week."

"A'right. Need my teams on it?"

"No. Best keeping your teams on the lakes. Might see if you can boost some actual tanks too. Carol says we filled everything from the farm store. She moved another up the list since you've brought in fuel faster than it's being used."

~*~ LG ~*~

Lori takes advantage of the distraction of everyone finishing supper to slip outside. Merle has Abby, Daryl's meeting with Morales and a few others about cabin construction, and Carl's got a firearms lesson with Shane.

So, for the first time in a while, she's at loose ends and she finds herself wandering down to the first pasture, where the little cows share space with various foundlings and a small flock of Jazz's ram lambs.

A nudge at her knee makes her look down to find the scruffy little Aussie that Daryl brought home yesterday and dubbed Bandit. She scratches the little guy's ears, glad he got a clean bill of health. Hershel thinks he was born in early summer and lost his family, since he's too people friendly to have never had contact.

She manages to lower herself down on the warm grass, which prompts Bandit to claim her lap. The baby thumps against the little dog's movements, startling him. It would figure that the first outside proof of movement is in reaction to an animal. This little one is aiming for farm kid already.

The pup yawns and nibbles at her fingers. She kicks off her shoes and socks and wriggles her toes in the grass, trying to keep sadness at bay. The petitions for private housing were announced during the meal. She missed most of the details when Abby spilled her drink. By the time she got it sorted, Hershel moved on to announce a couple of supply run changes.

So, depending on how long it takes to build from those kits everyone is excited about, her time with Daryl is limited. She knows the truth that he won't limit her time with Abby. The little girl called her Mama at breakfast and he never batted an eye. But all the little things - the weekly checks of the baby's progress, the random night time conversations, and him sleeping wrapped around her - those are as much a product of close quarters as actual affection.

She knows he likes her and even considers them friends. Their little benefits arrangement is proof of that. She doesn't even think he's going to stop that when he moves out, if she still wants it.

But she's been foolish and wants more.

Splitting with Rick hurt but the vivid parts of the emotions were long gone. They let go of a ghost of a marriage. She's not sure she has the strength to let the man go who spent the last few days talking to her belly before sleep each night.

Bandit twitches and scrambles down to lope across the grass toward Daryl, whose long strides bring him to her quickly. He plops down beside her with that damned crooked smile.

"Needed some peace and quiet?" She notices he checks for her weapons. As secure as the property is, no one goes without at least a belt knife. Hers is in place, a dark contrast against the pastel of her maternity blouse in the shoulder holster setup he got her since belts are no longer part of her clothing.

"A little. Figured pretty days like this should be enjoyed without hanging laundry."

He laughs a little and she feels the baby thump. Curious if he'll feel the movement like the dog did, she tugs his hand to her belly. The look of absolute wonder makes it hard to breathe as the baby responds to the warm weight of his hand the same way she did to the pressure from Bandit.

"She's strong." He's smiling and she's hit with a surge of _want_ that isn't just about sex. She's never initiated a kiss, and they've never crossed any lines outside the privacy of their bedroom. So, his initial reaction is a little delayed when she leans forward to brush her lips against his. On the second small, chaste kiss, he catches up, kissing her with the usual thoroughness that she's come to expect.

It's not until the first shuddering wave of pleasure rolls through her from his fingers under her skirt that she realizes she isn't the only one aroused this time. She isn't sure what to do about it, since he's ignoring it in favor of trying to coax her into a second orgasm.

"Daryl."

He stills, raising his head from her throat.

"Do you want to..." She brushes her fingers against him through his pants.

He groans and she thinks how beautiful he is.

"Do you want me?"

There's something off, a little lost, that doesn't mesh with the normal confidence he touches her with. She pushes him to his back and glances toward the upper property. They could potentially be seen, she knows, but there was a movie planned for tonight and Jazz won't be down to check on the animals until after. Bandit's disappeared through a gap into the horse pasture.

"Yes." She needs to see him, though, even if other positions would be better with the girth of her pregnancy between them. So, she makes short work of his clothing, exposing his chest to kiss and caress across the skin. This may be the first time they've gone this far, but she's given him a massage before and noted the reaction is similar to orgasm for him.

There's an inherent rush in how much control he gives over. He is begging beneath her by the end. She wishes she could collapse against him, but settles for laying down beside him and using the length of her skirt to keep him from remaining exposed.

"You okay?" she asks. His eyes are closed and he's not breathing normally yet. His hand tangles in her skirt.

"Yeah." He opens his eyes and she admires the color as it returns slowly. "Just been a long time." He reaches out to brush fingers against her cheek. "You okay? Didn't hurt you?"

She's not sure how he could have, considering, but it's sweet he asks. "I'm fine."

"Needed to talk to you today, but I'm thinking maybe I already know what your answer might be." He shifts and spasms a little, but the noise he makes is happy. "Is that something we're going to do again?"

The hesitation in his voice is something she's never really heard.

"I hope so." Her own worry shows and he turns, tugging clothing enough into place to pull her close.

"Lori? What's wrong?"

"You got the okay on the cabin," she says, hating the hitch in her voice.

He goes so still she gets worried until he kisses her. It's a long time before they come up for air. He smiles. "Got it for us. As a family. Me, you, Abby, Carl, and Asskicker. Was going to ask you tonight. It's why Merle lured Abby off with kittens."

"Us?"

"Yeah. Us. I'm not saying you gotta promise forever, but I like where we're going. Obviously." He readjusts clothing a little more. "Sorry. Zipper."

"That's the first time you've wanted to..."

He brushes her hair back from her face. "Not just a question of want. It's happened a few times lately, but not enough for you to notice."

"You didn't say anything."

"Wanted to be sure. Didn't want to disappoint you."

It clicks for her then, a reminder that he said he's only ever had sex with his ex-wife. "It's only disappointing if you don't want to have sex and do it anyway."

He laughs, the sound a little bitter. "That's probably not possible."

"Daryl?" She waits for him to look at her. "I was out here trying to work up the courage to tell you I wanted more. I already know things might be different, but you've never left me feeling disappointed. Not now or on the nights all we do is fall asleep together."

"Merle says you're just waiting on me to play catch-up to the fact we're not just friends."

She smiles and stretches languidly. "I was too scared to ask, once I realized. Figured what we had was better than nothing."

He looks horrified. "Lori, please don't settle. You did that before. I did, too. We both need more than that."

The earnest worry in his expression just begs she kiss it away, so she does. "I think we stumbled into more already."

"Gotta ask one thing of you, before the kids know anything."

She curls her legs under her to rise as he sits up. His chest is still bare, shirt hanging unbuttoned. He takes her hands in his, a habit he seems to like, calloused fingers sliding across her skin as if memorizing the shape of them.

"If you change your mind, tell me. Please don't move on without letting me go."

"Daryl, I never cheated on Rick, no matter how unhappy we were. With Shane, I thought he was gone."

He's hanging his head. "Carrie only married me to have a father for Abby. I'm not sure when she started cheating, but I let her make me think it was my fault for a long time when I did find out."

She does the math and thinks that at twenty-two, she thought Rick unprepared to be a father. What woman looked at a nineteen-year-old and thought him the best option? He was, but it was a hell of a gamble.

"I can promise I would never do that to you. If I feel like I can't continue, I'll talk to you the same way I did Rick."

He leans in for a lingering kiss. "Will promise you the same."

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle's walkie alerts him he's needed at the watch room. He kisses Abby on the top of her head and leaves her content next to Carol watching the group movie. Shane and Scout follow.

In the watch room, Jorge queues up footage while Oliver keeps an eye on the other cameras.

"We activated the cameras at the Eldridge gate when the game cams on the road started going off. Got this. Survivors who knew about the property, but once they realized the gate was locked and it was impassible, they loaded back up. Out of camera range since the outer gate cameras are stationary. But they didn't leave because the game cams further down are quiet."

"Need to upgrade those cameras," Shane mutters, and Merle agrees.

Jorge gets the visual running and Merle starts laughing when he recognizes the man who checked the gates. "Well, I'll be damned. Ready to have at least one more cop to look after?"

Shane shrugs, relaxing when Merle seems to recognize the man. "Thought all the locals were accounted for."

"This one's one of Daryl's. Met him a time or three when I visited, and he came here last year to pick up a pup from Livia's last litter. He said he looked for his rangers but didn't find any when he took his teams to Thomson the other day."

"Guess we ought to load up and go see who he brought with him."

Scout finishes looking through the game cam footage. "Six vehicles, definitely came supplied. This is Quinton, right? His corporal?"

"Yeah. Tall fella with a wife and three kids. Hoping like hell all of 'em made it."

Shane's sent an alert out, and both his and Scout's personal teams have responded. Everyone is armed, but that's just the norm, and no heavier gear. It's not quite dark, so they're going to respond as friendlies. Daryl's arrival triggers them to load up for the quarter mile trek to the outer gate.

But they aren't entirely without caution. Scout and Morales slip off right to an overlook tower and Shane and Rick to the left. As soon as both teams report in that the new arrivals seem to just be camping for the night, Merle lets Maria open the gate while he and Daryl step through.

"Quinton? That you rattling the gate?" Daryl calls out.

"Hot damn, it _was_ you that shuffled through town last week." The tall, dark-skinned man meets Daryl halfway for a pounding bear hug on both their parts.

"Looked for everyone, but hoped y'all evacuated. How many people you got?"

"Nineteen. Had them holed up over at the lake. Might have stayed except thinking about you reminded me that you had a sister in med school."

"She's here, yeah. Let's get everyone safely inside before we hash it out."

Merle agrees. If they have someone in need of medical care, discussing it out here isn't the place. The game cams proved their worth, because the vehicle count Scout got is accurate. Two RVs, three pickups, and a heavily loaded SUV. Two of the pickups pull trailers.

Merle secures the gate behind the last vehicle. Scout's in the lead vehicle, which drops her to the rear since she stays to secure the inner gate.

Since the group is well nourished, their first stop is the infirmary, where they get quickie inspections for bites. It's a new protocol, but Merle has to admit Edwards' suggestion is a valid one.

The reason for them seeking out medical help gets her actual physical that evening, though. Quinton's wife, Ellen, and all three children are with him, but Ellen's pregnancy brings them to four pregnant women.

The movie's ending, so people are starting to trickle out as he leads Quinton's group inside. Daryl goes with them, since it turned out that another of his rangers survived. Of the nineteen new arrivals, nine are children or teenagers.

He helps Carol shuffle slices of pie in front of everyone, along with drinks.

"Should've come sooner," Quinton says. "When Daryl never came home, I knew he was probably here."

"Hard to pack up and leave a known safe place for an unknown," Daryl says. "We were in Atlanta first couple of months, waiting on Scout to lead the way back from Florida."

Scout's in the room, although a lot of the general population is gone now, letting the newcomers get sorted out.

"Just how many people are here? I noticed a lot of new buildings besides this one and the hospital."

"Over 170. Your group puts us right at 200. Good thing we were already planning for another expansion."

Food and drinks delivered, Carol sits down beside him with one of her notebooks. She gives everyone one of her sweet smiles.

Daryl introduces her. "This is Carol. She's gonna get everyone a place to sleep tonight and then something permanent sorted out later. She's in charge of the work rosters, too. If you need anything in the way of clothing or toiletries and such, also her domain."

"Lady of the Manor," Quinton jokes.

Merle shrugs. "Works as well as any other title."

Carol does her usual inquiry, making notes of skills and experience. She looks relieved when one of the women says she was a school teacher. He understands, since they just got another influx of six school age kids.

She leads most of the group off to the empty female bunkhouses for the night, although Quinton stays behind.

"Got something that wasn't for public consumption?" Merle asks. Man's worked with Daryl for most of the three years he's been away. He doesn't rattle easy.

Scout moves to take a seat and Shane follows. Quinton frowns a little at the former deputy, as if he's trying to remember something, but brushes it aside.

"I gotta let you know our group put down a couple groups of humans gone feral twice."

"They preying on others?" Scout asks.

"Yeah. Debra in our group is a rescue from one of the groups. No way I was leaving those three men loose in the world. And the other group was as bad, except they weren't leaving any survivors even as captives."

"Can't fault you for something we've done ourselves," Scout says. "And I'm not hopeful it won't happen again. We already know of a real bad fella running a town down southwest of Atlanta."

"You can count on most of mine if that needs taking care of. I just didn't want to come in under false pretenses, as much as we need medical for Ellen."

Merle nods in understanding. "She'll be in good company. We've got three ladies expecting. Cricket's doing her best to become a midwife one baby at a time."

"Too bad I didn't find y'all when I went over. You missed our first wedding." Daryl grins, reaching out to pat Scout on her scarred shoulder.

"It's good to see you looking so healthy, Miss Dixon. Although I guess that's changed now. I remember Daryl going out of his mind to get leave to stay with you."

She nods and indicates Shane. "It's Walsh now."

"Walsh? Now I know why you look familiar. You had a partner named Grimes, down in King County. We took some classes together at the Academy, back when I was working as a deputy. Was a real tragic thing, him getting shot."

"He's here too. Survived the shooting to wake up in this mess. We're all that's left of the department there though."

"The way we keep finding strays, we'll end up with whatever's left of Georgia law enforcement," Merle says. "We should let you get to your family. Reassure everyone we're on the same page about the human predators."

Quinton stands and exchanges another hug with Daryl. "C'mon. I'll show you the way."

With them gone, he wishes his daughter and son-in-law goodnight as they close up the community center. He manages to time it to have Carol walk with him, slotting her fingers in his.

"You seen Lori since supper?" he asks. Daryl seems content enough, being summoned, so hopefully Merle's prediction that she was just waiting on Daryl to wise up was right

"No, but their light is on, so I assume she's up there. They finally have a talk?"

"Well, I'm kinda hoping it went like that talk you had with me, for both their sakes."

"I don't think that's a match I could have predicted back at the quarry any more than ours."

"At least she's likely to give new meaning to faithful, with her detour along the way to him. Daryl's ex... damned woman was cheating before the ink on their license was dry."

Carol sighs. "I don't want to speak ill of the dead, but even her mother can't really say much good about Carrie other than she loved Abby. It makes me feel like she's like Ed, just with a different type of damage dealt."

"You wouldn't be far off, comparing them. Nearly killed him to lose Abby, but staying married wasn't much help either."

They've reached the deck, and he draws her lazily into his arms as they relax into the porch swing. Several of the younger family members have a board game in the patio table. Jazz and Sophia are sitting close, although Abby's in his lap.

"You think they worked it all out?" Merle asks.

"I hope so." She gives him a gentle smile. "He told me he loved me today. Called me mama."

"Glad he could finally express it."

The game's at an end and the kids pack it up. Abby jogs off with the box, chattering at Carl about their upcoming birthdays, which Al and Isabelle are also curious about. Merle figures they've seen enough family suppers by now that Patricia's fosterlings won't be surprised when their turns come up.

Left behind, Jazz reaches out to take Sophia's hand as they follow. The gesture is sweet and hesitant and Merle swears he hears Carol coo next to him. Both teens pause at the door to call out a goodnight.

"At some point, we may have to have a more detailed talk with her about Jazz."

"I know. But for now, I'm just happy they're figuring it out instead of being at odds. He was worried about looking so much older."

"And she's worried about the opposite, poor kid. Might need to pull out a few of Honey's pictures from her age."

"That's the other crush that's going to be interesting to play out."

"You've noticed that too, huh?"

"Here and there. He's still clueless."

"Girl she was before the world changed, I'd worry about the age difference. But she's grown up hard and fast the last few months. There's worse choices than an age difference, if he ends up returning the interest."

"You don't think he will?"

"I think that he doesn't strike me as a man who looks at girls barely out of school as potential partners, and that's a strong obstacle to overcome."

"Like you with Michonne?"

He laughs. "She was quite a bit older than Honey, but yeah, that was one issue that definitely stood in the way."

Movement in the house indicates everyone disappearing to settle for the night. He gets to his feet and draws her up for a leisurely kiss.

"I've been going crazy half the night seeing you in that sundress."

She giggles as she pulls away and steps through the door into their room. She tugs the dress over her head as she spins away from him toward the bed. The fact that she's wearing nothing but a scrap of lace underneath is enough for his clothes to follow.

The bold woman emerging from all her tragedy is intoxicating in ways drugs will never be.

~*~ DD ~*~

Abby's quiet snore from the upper bunk reminds him to check her sheet's tucked around her. She's curled around the rag doll Patricia made her and he marvels at how young she looks when she's asleep.

He doesn't make his way to the futon like he normally would for the night with Abby here. Lori's put the baby book away, but she's fretting over something. He slides in beside her and captures her twitching hands.

"What's wrong?"

"I told Rick tonight, about us. I thought he should hear from me and not Carl." Her son simply grinned at the news and made jokes about not being an only child sooner than February. Abby already considered them a couple.

"How'd he take it?" Daryl's worried because she seems fragile tonight.

"Confused. A little hurt. I guess he's enjoying his freedom and doesn't understand why I want something serious already."

"You looked like you were thinking pretty hard." He's not going to voice the worry that she'll decide this is too fast. If she does, he's good with slowing down. He doesn't have to live with her to court her.

"Just feeling bad for him, actually. He seems a bit lost."

Daryl adjusts them to their usual sleeping position, now that he's reassured her thoughts aren't backpedaling on them. As he strokes across the silky skin of her belly, he mulls over her ex.

"It took me a bit to disconnect after my divorce. He'll get there." Not that Daryl's the best example. "He's at least still got you and Carl and Shane."

The baby kicks strongly against his hand and Lori laughs. He slides down to prop on her hip and kiss the spot the baby thumped. "And Lil Asskicker. Might be weird to some people, but I'm betting on Rick being the uncle who spoils her rotten."

She rests a hand on his hair and smiles down at him, especially once he kisses her belly after the next thump too. She frowns as her fingers graze across the scar hidden beneath his hair he's normally careful to keep her away from.

He slides back up to snuggle her close by the time she asks the question he knows is coming. "From Will?"

"You didn't call him my father."

"Because he's not. That's Merle." She reaches back, slim fingers finding the scar again and stroking gently. "Your father raised you and loved you and would never do something like that to you."

He buries his face in the curve of her neck and whispers a thank you for understanding.

The sadness and longing are swept away with her next words. "We get to teach Lil Asskicker to call him Grandpa, right?"


	31. The New Prince

**October 16, 2010**

~*~ GR ~*~

"Please let guardian angels be real," Glenn mutters. Tara looks as tense as he feels, both of them poised to run. Maggie and Tim's shots are felling walkers with steady precision, but now comes the not fun part.

Normally, they'd use a drone for a decoy, or even a car, but they were on foot and the drone with the other team when Tara spotted the walkers devouring a woman on the ground. Trapped inside the car beside the gory scene is an infant screaming at high pitch. And the baby's not safe, one window splintered under pressure already.

So, while Glenn plays walker bait, Tara's going for the rescue, providing Glenn can draw off enough of the ones left standing to make a difference.

He runs out yelling, terror adding fuel to the volume as he takes shots at the dead assholes while on the run. They aren't kill shots - he's not Tim or Scout or Shane - but they serve their purpose. Seven dead lurch after him, bringing the remaining number down to where their snipers can help Tara get to the car safely.

He doesn't use his full speed despite every instinct screaming at him to do so. Too fast and they'll turn back, putting Tara at risk. Too slow doesn't bear imagining. He reaches the dumpster he's aiming for behind the box store and climbs, banging his way up. The grapple hook lands and holds on the first try so he makes the climb, glad these things are so stupid they don't know he's escaped them yet.

From this height, he can see Jacqui's team arriving to reinforce his. He starts picking off the walkers below him and breathes a sigh of relief as Tara emerges from the back of the car with the infant carrier and a bag slung over her shoulder. She makes her way back to the protection of Maggie and Tim before getting the baby out of the carrier. It quiets almost instantly.

Jacqui and Bryce make sure all the walkers around the car are truly down, while Zoe and Sasha help Glenn finish off his pursuers. He goes back down the rope after a check from height that no larger groups of walkers are in the immediate vicinity.

As ghoulish as it feels, he gives the order to search the car and the woman. He can't imagine she has a group if she's out here with a baby, but stranger shit happens in the apocalypse.

It turns up little, since the car registration is to a man and might not be her family member. Like most people now, she doesn't have any I.D. In the end, they cover her with a sheet from supplies in the car and take everything she's gathered for the baby.

"We need to finish the run, but it can't stay out here," Glenn says. Jacqui nods.

"I can take him back. Maggie or Tim can ride shotgun," Tara volunteers.

Tim looks more than a little panicked at being in a car with a baby. "Maggie?"

She nods and brushes a kiss across Glenn's cheek, and they all form a protective circle around Tara as they trot back to their vehicles. He radios in the update.

"They'll have someone at the gates. Get him safe." It ends up being a switch, with Maggie driving, because the distressed baby won't be parted from Tara. It isn't even a cargoless trip because they had filled the bed of the stakebed truck with almost everything from the gas station before moving on toward the Costco itself. It's even towing one of the two 990-gallon industrial tank trailers full of gasoline.

He turns back to the five people left. "Guess we know to target the baby section of this place first. Gonna need formula in bulk."

Jacqui laughs. "They'll have that baby hooked up with sheep or goat milk before we make it back, but sure. Trailers still here that Scout's teams left for us?"

"Yeah. Bryce, you and Sasha get them backed up." They brought two trucks and empty trailers, but deadheaded two other semis to hook up the trailers left as excess by the larger teams. Scout put a huge dent in the Costco, but as always, Glenn's teams are on final cleanup.

They're palletizing everything they can, with Tim and Bryce left on outside sentry duty, and have three of the four trailers loaded. Halfway through the fourth, Bryce alerts for incoming vehicles.

"How many?" Glenn asks. He's always aware of the possibility the guy whose men attacked the Vatos could move further north than Atlanta.

"Two cars, looks like just two in each. I'd guess supply runners. They're checking the gas station right now. Barely armed."

"Keep an eye on them. We're mostly loaded and I'd like to finish."

He sends Sasha to the roof, just in case, leaving him, Zoe, and Jacqui to load. Everyone is good with forklifts on his team now. They left a little behind at the gas station, so the smaller group won't go empty handed if they don't risk the bigger building, and their vehicles are out of sight.

His judgement proves right as they finish the load. Four trucks on top of the eight Scout's group took when they secured the place makes a serious dent in the stock. Sasha and Bryce leave their roof posts to take driver's seats, with Jacqui and Glenn taking the other two. With Zoe on shotgun, Jacqui takes the lead.

Tim reports definite alertness from the smaller group as they hear the diesel engines, but it's defensive. Glenn's bringing up the rear of the caravan, pausing for Tim to make the jump from roof to trailer to cab.

"Stop and say hi?" he asks, trusting the former marshal's people instinct.

"Yeah. They look a little too clean cut to be predators."

He radios it in to Homestead and Jacqui leads the other three trucks to the exit and idles while Glenn pulls alongside the gas station. The man who ventures out is wary, but smiling, and he makes no move toward the pistol at his hip.

"Afternoon," Glenn calls out. "You folks needing supplies?"

The man nods. "Got a group of sixty down south aways. Getting to be slim pickings in these smaller places. Y'all the ones who keep leaving behind just enough to make it worth taking these places?"

"Likely so. We figure there are smaller groups, maybe individuals, who need a day or two of food and water."

"And your group? You got semis full."

"Over two hundred people. We've been taking in all the civilians we come across in North Georgia." It's standard info to give out. They're big enough and secure enough to be generous with friendly groups too large to take in.

"Guess you find them faster than they find our signs then. We put out notices to direct survivors to us."

Glenn grimaces at the risk. He understands the concept of wanting to help, because that's why he's having the conversation, but to put out written directions? No way. "You realize not all survivors are friendly, right? There's a community southwest of Atlanta that preys on smaller groups, and we've come across some folks that definitely went feral."

"We've been lucky so far, I guess." He glances toward the Costco with undisguised envy. "Anything left there?"

"You got anyone who can drive one of these?"

The man nods and points toward the only woman in his group.

"There's a trucking company over that way, big place, can't miss it. Grab one of those semis and trailers and load up. Either of the loading docks will get you in and the building is free of the dead. Should net you a few months supplies in a few trips. This is the last big place we were clearing in Cumming though."

"We're down in Marietta at the railyard. You willing to stay in touch?" The man's smiling and looks relieved at finding friendlies.

"I'm not in charge of more than my teams, but yeah, I can say they will probably be willing. Got any radios?"

Guy nods. "Raided police cars since they seem to have better range on whatever towers are left running."

"Long as the repeaters stay up, should be good." It's one thing all the teams train for, reinforcing any repeaters they find with solar power packs. He gives the man the police frequency Daryl said was used around Lake Allatoona for state law enforcement.

"I'm Gareth, by the way. We call our haven Terminus."

"Glenn. Ours is Homestead."

As he drives off, he notes the excitement among the four. Hopefully, he just gave good folks the means to survive a little longer. Anything else is up to the council.

~*~ SW ~*~

"Let's get this started before Mama's bladder gives out," Cricket says.

Lori steps up and slides back on the reclined exam table, draping the sheet across her lap as Cricket helps her adjust her clothing. The exposed swell of her belly is the first time Shane's actually seen the reality of the growing child, since her loose maternity blouses tend to obscure it.

On her thin frame, she seems all belly already. The baby moves, a spasm of movement under the skin, and his hand twitches in wanting to touch. Now's not the time, and she's invited him and Scout both to feel the baby once it became a steady thing a week or so after the wedding. He still finds it an amazing thing to feel.

Scout smiles at him, her fingers lacing through his. Abby and Carl are in prime spots at Lori's side. Abby doesn't hesitate to put her small hand on top of Lori's belly and giggles as she catches movement before Cricket shoos her hand away to apply the ultrasound gel. Carl has his mother's hand, and although the pairing baffles Shane, Daryl's at the head of the exam table with a hand laid gently on Lori's shoulder.

"Here we go. Any bets on baby's gender?"

Abby and Carl both chime in for their own genders, but Lori shakes her head. Shane's heard Daryl refer to the baby as she already, something that Scout adopted too. He doesn't care. The existence of the baby is enough for Shane.

As the image of the baby appears on the screen, his grip on Scout tightens. Long limbs and delicate features... distinct and more defined than the prior video.

"How big is the baby this week?" Carl asks. He isn't as active on keeping track as Abby.

"About as long as a banana from head to foot," Cricket replies. She flips the switch for the heartbeat. Hearing that steady sound will never get old for Shane. It provides a backdrop for the measurements she needs to take, and when she flips it off again, he knows it's time.

"Well, my darlings, it seems Carl gets to remain the only boy for now."

"It's a girl?" the boy says, but he sounds excited, bit disappointed.

"I'm about ninety percent certain." She explains the lines in the ultrasound that are a strong indication of gender. "She's a very healthy baby girl measuring right on time for twenty-one weeks."

He exchanges a look with Scout, and his grin rivals hers. Looking at Lori for her reaction, he sees that Daryl's crouched to say something softly in her ear that ends with her turning to kiss him.

That frees him of inhibitions and he hugs Scout close, then laughs when their hug becomes a group one with the addition of two grinning children. He figures it's a little hard for them to celebrate with Lori just yet.

"You want pictures too, Carl?" Cricket asks.

"One of her face. Maybe a big one. But not that she's a girl."

That amuses everyone, and Cricket's busy for a moment printing copies she lays in four neat stacks as she works. He notices the gender print is missing in Abby's pile too.

That task done, she hands off prints to Shane, Abby, and Carl. "Now you all gotta scram except Daryl, if Lori wants him to stay for the rest of the exam."

Lori's grip on Daryl's forearm indicates he's staying, but Shane doesn't think the younger man objects. Tucking the prints safely in a pocket, he helps Scout herd the kids outside.

Where apparently every family member in Homestead today is lurking expectantly. Shane wonders briefly if Lori might like to announce it herself, but Carl curtails that by yelling, "I'm getting another sister!"

Abby flows into the crowd, excited to share her images of the baby.

He's answering happy questions and considering if he should go find Rick when walkies crackle with an alert from the watch room.

Merle answers to get the report that Tara and Maggie are en route early... with a baby.

"Damn boy's collecting babies now plus all his critters," the eldest Dixon says in amusement. But Shane doesn't miss the concern as he turns to Carol.

She looks thoughtful. "Caleb's on duty, plus Cricket won't go far. I'll get Christopher since he's got the most pediatric experience."  
The nurse doesn't usually work the infirmary shifts, preferring more activity than the morning check-ins on the nursing home folks and occasional mishap needing treatment. He serves as medic for Daryl's two teams, so he's on a rest day today too.

"I'll go. He's actually helping Noah and his dad with physical therapy this afternoon," Scout offers. She heads out, even though it could be as much as an hour before the baby arrives.

That disperses the family, with Carol recruiting Carl and Sophia to go raid inventory for baby things.

"Shane?"

He turns toward Merle to find himself hugged. "Ain't any moment in your life gonna top holding that lil girl the first time. Congratulations."

"Thanks," he manages gruffly. "Gonna go find Rick."

"He's down by your place. Think he's waiting for you."

Shane makes his way down the trail to his cabin, making a note to ask Merle about making something a little more permanent for the path now that Daryl is building his own place next door. Need a firm trail for Lori and Abby and later the baby.

Rick's in one of the chairs in the little porch, feet propped on the rail and his hat shading most of his face. A bottle of rum and two glasses sit on the small table. He doesn't move right away when Shane sits down, so Shane just relaxes and waits.

His brother finally drops his hat to the porch beside him and reaches for the bottle to pour two shots. He hands Shane one and smiles just a little. "So, am I drinking to Shane Junior or Shannon?"

Shane laughs. "Don't think either name will make the cut, but it's a girl."

Rick clinks his glass to Shane's and empties it before sitting it down. "You got pictures?"

He hands them over, watching quietly as Rick studies them. "Can't say I don't wish this was with any woman but Lori, but congratulations, man. This is gonna change your life." He passes the ultrasound images back. "How's Scout doing with it?"

"Over the damned moon."

"Not sure that'll ever be not weird to hear, but then again, it happened before y'all met. It's just too bad it isn't your wife instead."

"It won't ever be Scout," he admits softly.

Rick straightens, his boots leaving the rail for the porch. "Her injuries?"

"Yeah. Shrapnel got missed and set up an infection. She was still critical on the burns, so they did a hysterectomy. World before, could find a surrogate, maybe, but now... she and Lori are kind of a scary combination, but it works."

"It better, considering they're going to be neighbors." Rick looks to the left, where the exterior of the new cabin is complete. Shane put in his own hours helping Daryl, so he knows it's going to be a beautiful place. "Carl's been enjoying his time down here helping, more than his turn on the main building crew."

"Yeah, he said it's kinda like a big game of Legos. He's excited about the loft."

"Can't say I blame him, getting to help build his own room, essentially. I would've loved it at his age." But Rick looks sad and more than a little lonely, so Shane reaches over to nudge him.

"You see the markers on your way down?"

"The property posts? Yeah."

"This area's for family to build. Gonna be its own little village in the end." He points to the orange wrapped posts across the way from where they sit. "That's your spot, if you want it. Priority on the kits goes to the families with small kids, but Scout says putting up a place like this one's easy enough not to really need a kit. Amy can sketch something out for you."

"Shane, I'm not a Dixon. Not likely to become one."

"Guess you need to read the rulebook. One Dixon adopts you, they all do."

"So, who's adopting me?" Rick's amused, at least, and studying the little plot of land.

"Well, that's me and Carl both."

The smile tells him Rick isn't upset by Carl being included in the Dixon count. "How about we keep it on reserve then? Who is my neighbor with the red markers?"

"Glenn. Figure it'll be as Glenn and Maggie before long. Jamie's on the other side of them, Christopher and then Bryce in the row with mine."

"And the other Dixons?"

"Cricket's not looking for an independent place since she's already got the two-bedroom garage apartment. Jazz's at least three years off needing one, but we're reserving the spot behind us for him. Michonne behind Daryl and Lori. Honey, Beth, and Danny in the row behind yours. End up with two sets of eight cabins each in the end if it's all built. Figure some of Patricia's fosterlings will end up out here too, along with Sophia, Carl, and Abby."

"Sounds all planned out. And a little weird to hear Carl's future home planned."

"He turned thirteen yesterday, brother. Don't think it's as far off as you think."

"How the hell did I get to be father to a teenager?"

Shane just laughs. Hopefully, Rick will accept the future cabin offer, because he never thought their lives would flip to his brother being the odd one out. He thinks out of him, Rick, and Lori, Rick's the one who actually will feel the loneliness the most.

~*~ CP ~*~

The baby's arrival points out one thing missing from their infirmary. None of the beds are meant for babies or toddlers. Carol figures it's an easy remedy, but for now, Cricket's actually in the hospital bed with the boy while the IV runs its course. After cleaning up, Tara's in the seat next to the bed, one hand out to rub his back.

"He asleep still?" Carol asks. They're lucky the late mother managed to keep some records together in the form of a baby book in the diaper bag. He's nine months old and lost his father to the initial flu outbreak. A diary from the bag shows they were at the Atlanta refugee camp and survived to escape it and live in the car since, staying on the move. Carol wishes they found them hours sooner to save his mother too.

"Yeah. Finished off that bottle and the little plate of food and just nodded right off."

"I'm glad we collected formula, just in case, although Caleb and Hershel both say he'd be fine with goat or sheep milk at this stage if we had to."

"She did such a good job keeping him healthy all on her own for so long," Cricket says sadly. "We were so close to saving them both."

Carol reaches out to rub the young woman's back as Tara reaches out to take her hand. She glances up to see Caleb enter, his kind expression soothing. "All his labs so far are good. The IV is probably overkill, but I want to make sure we nab the pneumonia quickly and make sure he's well hydrated. We'll do another round via the IV if he is content to stay in the bed, then switch to oral antibiotics for the rest."

"His oxygen numbers are staying good." Cricket's gaze is on those numbers as much as the baby himself.

"They are. I got an inhaler and aerochamber out of pharmacy just in case. Gram stain is positive for bacterial pneumonia, so we're on the right track."

"Best thing we can do to honor her effort is to get him healthy," Carol says. "You good to stay with him? Christopher will switch out with you in a few hours."

Cricket nods and Carol heads for the exit to update the others. Caleb follows and they step out into the early evening sunlight.

"I don't think you're going to have to look for a foster family for him."

"Yeah, something tells me I just became a grandmother."

The doctor laughs. "You just learn to roll with it in your family, don't you?"

"Every single day." And she wouldn't change it for the world.

She starts to walk away when he calls her name. "Put me on to cover any of Cricket's on-call night shifts for the next few months. Give them time to settle in."

"That's very sweet and generous of you."

"When my group was rescued, I was on my knees at gunpoint and the fate my Chloe was being threatened with was worse than that. She still has nightmares. A few extra nights being summoned to oversee one of our elderly in the night is nothing compared to seeing your daughter covered in those monsters' blood."

"Caleb, that's not something that has to be repaid."

"It's the fact that none of you would ever see it as a debt that makes it so for me." He smiles and kisses her cheek before letting her go on her way.

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane loops an arm around Scout's waist to lean in for a kiss before he turns his attention to his food. It's Saturday, one of Jazz's two supper duty shifts, so he took a good helping of the kolokotes the teenager made of the surplus of pumpkin and squash. Every unique little dish Jazz puts out makes him almost wish his young brother-in-law was aiming for chef instead of veterinarian.

He's finished his shift too, and Shane watches as he carries his plate to sit beside Sophia at the far end of the Shane's table.

"They make a sweet little couple, don't they?" Jacqui remarks with a grin. "It's like you two. He treats her like a delicate flower, when she's the deadly one of the pair."

"I don't treat Scout like she's delicate," he protests. His wife just laughs as she steals one of his kolokotes. But he studies Jazz's careful grip on Sophia's hand where it's on the table between them and grins. "He'll figure it out eventually."

"They're getting a little side eye from some of the Grady ladies and the recent newbies. Someone might want to put out the reminder that he's not even sixteen."

Shane looks to where Jacqui indicates and makes a mental note of the concerned women. "I'll drop a hint to Maria on my team if you'll help Zoe remember on yours."

"Or we can let Hurricane Honey hit," Scout suggests, pointing at her younger sister's path toward Quinton's group's table with her spoon.

They can't hear what's said as Honey leans against the end of the table, but a couple people look sheepish. Quinton says something that soothes her and she eventually leaves with some remark that causes the young ranger, Elias, to blush.

"I'm starting to think it's her goal to fluster every male under thirty on the property," he says.

"Don't say it where she can hear it. If she hasn't already thought of it, she'll be intrigued." Scout grins shamelessly as she munches on another bite of his supper.

"You do have a plate if your own."

"Hmm. But you picked different things." She pushes her plate closer in offering, so he snags a heaping forkful of her baked potato.

"You two are too damned cute for words." Jacqui is smirking at them, and even Jim cracks a smile. "Did I hear correctly that a new princess is on the way?"

"Yeah. Healthy little girl."

"Congratulations. Where is Lori tonight?"

"She grabbed supper to go earlier. Went over to sit with the miracle baby," Scout explains.

"Little guy's going to be like catnip for a while to everyone who hears how close a call he had. Carol will have a line to adopt him."

"Seems like she already took care of that." Shane turns to give Scout a questioning look. "Cricket and Tara."

"Makes sense, all things considered." His sister-in-law's baby yearning nature lately will definitely lead to the baby being cherished. "What's our new nephew's name?"

"Weirdly enough? Christian."

Shane has to marvel at the coincidence. The thought of the baby's mother's fate makes him reach out to take Scout's hand. Life is certainly short and chaotic sometimes.

~*~ LG ~*~

Daryl coaxes Lori away, reminding her there's a good roster of folks to cluster around the little one tonight. She's moving a little stiffly as they go up the stairs, so he runs the bath full of warm water. She sinks in with a relieved sigh, letting him take care of her with an abandon he seems to enjoy.

"Your hair's getting real long," he says, kissing her shoulder as he gets the dark tresses into a foamy updo, strong fingers massaging her scalp.

"I should probably cut it. It'll get in the way with a newborn."

"Or you can just braid it."

"So, you like long hair?" She gives him a teasing look.

"Like it on you." He rinses her hair, then works in conditioner. "If you want it short, I'll get used to it."

"Can't say that you don't show how much you like it."

He grins at her as she tilts her head back for another rinse. She can't remember now how she didn't see how damned pretty he is from the day they first met. Then again, it's that crooked smile that lights his features up, and he had precious little to smile about at the quarry.

"Abby with Sophia tonight?"

"Yeah. Plotting on how to convince Carol that Sophia needs a baby sister too."

That makes her laugh. "And what would Merle think of that?"

"I think he's so far gone on Carol if she wants a baby it's just a matter of when. We already have our generations mixed up. Might as well keep on going."

She rests a hand against her belly and watches as her daughter moves under her hand. "And what's your view on more kids?"

The baby will make three children he's responsible for, none of his own biology. He's quiet for a minute, running a washcloth across her back.

"She gets here safely, we can talk then. Surgery's dangerous."

It's the first time she understands he's afraid of the delivery, of the possibility of a C-section.

"We're going to try to avoid the surgery."

He leans down to kiss her, the contact more urgent than sweet. "And if that happens, if it's safe, we can have all the babies you want. But if the only way to get them here is to cut you open each time, I can't. Three's plenty."

"We might not always have birth control." Their supplies will run out or get less effective long before Lori's beyond the age to conceive. Her aunt had a surprise baby at forty-five.

"Talked to Hershel about that. Surgery for me, pretty easy and not any riskier than before." He's got her face cupped between his hands. "There's not much I'll deny you, but if it's something that keeps you safe with the kids we already got, I'll let the vet fix things so I never put you in danger."

Part of her wants to be angry at the ultimatum, but the other part feels the trembling in his hands. She turns and kisses his palm. "Okay."

"You're not mad?"

"A little, but more because I went a long time not being able to have children only to find out I still can."

"I don't want to lose you," he whispers.

"You won't." She rises to her knees to kiss him and distracts him from worry with something far more pleasant.

~*~ GR ~*~

Hand-in-hand with Maggie, Glenn treks toward his place after a check-in on their newest resident. Cricket and Tara turned the little guy over to Christopher's care, but didn't go far. Both women were sound asleep in nearby beds. His teams are off tomorrow, but he thinks Tara might deserve a few days off, so they detour up the stairs to Honey's. She prefers the building crew, but she's filled in on various teams enough to be his first choice.

As is fairly usual, Honey's outside at T-Dog's outdoor table. Tonight seems to be a Boggle night.

"Where's Lydia?" Maggie asks.

"She's watching _Alias_ on DVD."

From the looks of their notepads, Honey and T-Dog have been playing a while. Maggie flicks through the pad at T-Dog's side of the table. She nudges the man playfully. "Remind me not to play this or Scrabble with you."

He just laughs. "Y'all wanna play?"

"Nah. Needed to see if Honey was up for a few supply runs next week," Glenn explains.

"Cover for Tara? Sure. You're off tomorrow, right?" He nods. "I'm on schedule to help roof the new barn tomorrow, but I'll swap out the rest of the week's interior work with Dad. He won't mind, considering."

"Alright. We'll let you get back to the game then."

Maggie's obviously mulling something over, but doesn't say anything until they're inside their own place.

"Wonder if he knows she's got a massive crush on him and is just politely hoping it'll go away, or if he's oblivious?"

Glenn stops halfway through getting his shirt off, which means his voice is muffled. "Honey's got a crush on T-Dog?"

Maggie laughs at his incredulous look when he gets free of the shirt. "You could see it from space, Glenn. Girl's not one for subtlety usually, so I'm surprised she hasn't just told him and got it over with."

"Maybe it's important enough she doesn't want to rush finding out if it's a no?" He thinks it over. "It's a no, isn't it?"

"If it wasn't a no, he would have either caught on or made a move himself as much time as she spends with him."

"Poor Honey."

His girlfriend nods in sympathy. "Typical of the heart. Zeroes in on one of the few guys who will really take her age as a problem."

Glenn hopes for Honey's sake that it's a small heartache.

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane steps out of the shower to see Scout laying small pieces of fabric on the bed. He watches her as he towels off, puzzling together that it's a quilt pattern at last. The fact that she's only wearing one of his T-shirts is what he blames on that process taking a few minutes with each flash of caramel skin as she moves around the bed.

"I never pictured you as sewing anything."

She smiles a little absently. "It's one of the few happy things I remember with Lilliana. She joined a group of women in North Carolina that did baby quilts for missionary work. One of them did local quilts too, commissions, like memory quilts."

Shane notices some of the fabric seems familiar, especially a square with a logo from King's County Sheriff's Department. "Is that one of my old shirts?"

Scout nods and picks up the square. "Fabric went past mending, but it's perfect for this." She lays it back down with what he realizes is a scrap of a USMC T-shirt that snagged on a piece of lumber helping Daryl with his cabin.

"These all from family?"

"All but the blue squares."

He looks at the memories in cloth of the family his little girl will be born into and hugs Scout close. "Gonna be something for her to have for a long time." It takes him a while to let her go. He was a kid who only really had his grandma and Rick. His daughter's got a damned legion of family waiting on her to arrive.

When she moves away to collect up the squares, he asks why she spread them out.

"I don't want to forget anyone." She tucks the cloth in a box. "Do you think Rick would be okay to give me something? I don't want to upset him."

He thinks over the conversation earlier and how lonely Rick seemed. "I think he'd be more upset if you didn't ask."

"Alright." She finally really pays attention to his lack of clothing post shower and smiles wickedly. "I seem to be overdressed."

He can certainly help her with that.


	32. Older

**October 31, 2010**

~*~ DD ~*~

Daryl takes the drink Lori's brought him and smiles at the woman. "Wanna see how far it's gotten?"

She takes his hand and follows.

"We finished the last of the sheetrock today. Gonna have to do the primer before we can paint, but we figure on doing that over the next couple of nights."

She's still quiet as he leads her through the little Adirondack style cabin. The kitchenette is just a rough in of electric and plumbing, a small island bar separating the work area from the living area. The bathroom is similarly half-done, with the composting toilet system in place and the corner tub/shower combo set up but not tiled or the glass doors in place yet.

Past the bathroom is the tiny second bedroom, which is ready for primer and paint, plus the larger master bedroom. A ladder style stair climbs one wall by the bathroom, giving access to the loft area.

"What color do you think?" he gestures to the master. "Abby wants green, and I figure that's pretty neutral for a few years anyway."

"You like darker colors, but the room needs a lighter color. Maybe off-white on the walls and burgundy trim? I don't know what you've got in paint supplies."

She isn't really looking at the room, instead staring out the window that faces east. The cabin's built east of Scout's, so it'll take advantage of early morning light in both bedrooms and kitchen.

"Lori? I asked what color _you_ would pick."

She studies the room finally. "I actually do like the burgundy trim idea. There's a quilt in stores that would work well."

He pulls her in close, luring her to a kiss. "Why the hesitation?"

"I don't want to pick everything and leave you out of it."

Ah. Probably something to do with her home before, which he remembers a passing comment from Shane that Rick didn't help her decorate.

"Well, you already noticed I'm partial to dark colors and I like red. Just no purples."

She laughs softly. "Okay, no purples. Can the bathroom be yellow and white?"

"Like rubber duck yellow?"

"Yep."

"Long as it's not all four walls and the tile's white."

"Kitchen and living room?"

"Like white cabinets, but you figure out the colors."

"White walls with navy trim. Make the fireplace wall navy too and the island counter."

"See? Not so hard."

She laughs and kisses him soundly. "I wish I could help paint."

"Carl's offered already. Figure he'll manage a room or two and then I'll borrow Al and Patrick from Patricia to finish."

"I'm guessing he picked a color for the loft, then?"

"Sophia is doing a mural. She suggested red trim to match her sketch. I'm guessing comic book themed from the comics she's been frowning over."

"That is not going to help his crush on her."

"No, but I know better than to embarrass him by bringing it up. He'll move on eventually, hopefully without any drama."

"Hopefully." She draws him along to Abby's room and studies it for a moment. "Do you think Abby would be okay if we left her room mostly white or pale green?"

He studies the built-in bunks, knowing the room will house both girls eventually. "She might, if you tell her it's something special for when you can paint again."

"You saw my sketchbook?" She's twitching her hands in that nervous way again.

"I did, and it's beautiful that you want them to have a flower garden. Wouldn't mind the same in ours, you know." He doesn't quite understand why she hides her art training, maybe because she didn't finish her degree.

She looks down the hall, eyes narrowed in thought. "Maybe not flowers... forest?"

"That's good too."

As she goes down the hall and turns in their future bedroom as if she's designing it all in her mind, he grins. The more he gets behind that protective shell of homemaker she throws up, the more she intrigues him.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol loves the laughter of the small horde of kids who are bouncing around the area cleared for dancing. The music's upbeat and there's little coherent dance happening, but the kids are happy.

She's surprised at how many adults are at the tables. They offered box suppers for anyone not wanting to be part of the happy chaos that's following trick-or-treating, but few took them. She figures maybe it's the normalcy in a world gone wrong. These kids are happy because they're safe.

After a glance shows her all the younger Dixon kids plus Patricia's are on the dance floor, she looks for Honey next, needing to do her little check. The girl's dressed as a football player, in costume like most of the teens and younger adults, who will take over the community center once the littler ones are sent home to sleep off their sugar highs. She's with Beth and Jimmy, so safe and happy too. Jamie and Danny are among a group that is mostly made up of the teams they lead, although she sees Amy's blonde locks among them.

Cricket's in the corner with Tara and the baby, which is also where she finds Merle. She thinks everyone is exactly zero surprised to see him dote on the baby. Little Christian's recovery is done and he's sleeping through the night. He's busy alternating bites of fruit between himself and Merle.

Lori and Daryl are at a table they moved in after realizing the increasing number of pregnant women didn't really mesh with the fold-and-roll tables. She's just glad it's a compatible group of women, especially for Daryl's sake.

Shane and Scout are actually busy shuffling food out to the serving tables. It's neither of their turns at supper, but she's discovered Shane's need to lead by example now often has him filling in. Carol thinks if the man were single or Scout less popular, he'd be beating women off with a stick.

"Everyone is accounted for, woman, come sit with us while your old man is playing Grandpa." Jacqui takes her by the shoulders and guides her to a table that holds several members of the old quarry group.

Carol laughs and accepts the soda that's spun her way down the table from T-Dog. One day, they'll run out of all these old-world treats, and she's going to miss strawberry Crush a lot. She takes a drink, nudging Jacqui a little as she realizes Jim's on her other side, debating something mechanical with Dale.

The older woman leans in to whisper, "He said he needs to see the kids being normal tonight."

It's something she's glad to hear. Slowly, but surely, Jim is stitching himself back together.

"So big family life obviously agrees with you." Andrea's comment sounds almost wistful. Out of all the quarry folks, Carol thinks she's struggled the most, next to Jim.

Carol smiles, her gaze going to Merle, who is carrying on an animated conversation with Tara while Christian toys with a sippy cup in Cricket's lap. "Yeah, it does."

"Jamie's a good man, right?" It's an unexpected question, but Carol turns her attention back to the blonde.

"He is. One of the best." It clicks then that she saw Amy with Jamie's group. "He was in college in some program the Marines have to go from enlisted to officer when everything went bad, Andrea. And he needed to finish his degree because he left college after two years to enlist when his brother died in Iraq. He's still studying now, although more with Caleb and the nurses than Hershel. I think he's aiming for nurse."

"I just know him from his martial arts class. His team seems to respect him." Andrea looks over her shoulder to where her sister is part of what looks like a rowdy game of cards.

"I'll put it this way. If Sophia were Amy's age, I wouldn't have a worry in the world if Jamie came courting."

That earns her a smile from the former lawyer and a nudge from Jacqui. "Been seeing the sweet little romance going on with Sophia."

"I never thought I would be having to remind my daughter not to push a boy's limits."

"He's a sweetheart of a kid. Might be the exact sort of stubbornness she needs," Jacqui says. "He seems to have figured out a middle ground. Still makes the Grady ladies a little twitchy, but Maria's foster daughter is a staunch advocate, and so's the supper crew ladies he works with."

Carol checks on Sophia out of habit, finding the punk rock costumed girl easily due to Jazz's height. He's dressed completely in black, making a joke about the world's tallest ninja when he hugged Carol earlier. She has his fake katana, apparently knighting one of the other teens.

"I'm just glad Amy took up the offer Cricket made us for long term protection. I'm not ready to be an aunt just yet."

"Andrea is thinking the pregnancy thing's a bit contagious."

Carol laughs. "Only contagious if you want it to be."

"I keep expecting an announcement from you any day now, actually."

She turns to look at Jacqui in surprise. "Seriously?"

"You love kids. He loves kids. Granted, he's got grown kids and now the surprise grandbaby, but he's still young enough."

Andrea shrugs. "Does seem to make sense." Carol isn't sure why she's finally settling in, maybe giving up on her interest in Rick, but she's glad to see it.

"We've talked about it. I think once we get a few of these babies here safely, maybe it'll be time."

"Well, if Daryl's an example of Dixon caretaking, you're in for a treat." Jacqui's watching where the tall former ranger is carrying two laden plates to where Lori is next to Miranda Morales. The two women seem to have found a common ground finally in their pregnancies.

"Not to be rude, but how the hell does that work?" Andrea flushes when even the men turn to look at her. "Not Daryl and Lori as a couple. That makes sense with his daughter as a matchmaker. But the whole rectangle, square, whatever around the baby."

"Honestly, they're just deciding the baby gets four parents off the bat."

"Probably not a bad thing, in our world," Dale says. He's been helping out with the school children, so he's probably acutely aware of how many are full or partial orphans. "How is Patricia doing tonight?"

"Tired more than anything. I think the thrill has worn off to a countdown now that she's in her third trimester. She was joking earlier that a Christmas baby might be more fun than a January one."

"Would that be safe?" Jacqui is frowning in concern.

"Based on her scans, anything after December 20th should be okay, but she's due January 7th by the ultrasound best guess."

"So, January, February, and March? What about the newest lady?"

"Ellen will fall between Lori and Miranda, just earlier in March. The irony is that her husband is one of the few people here who has actually delivered a baby. He handled an emergency delivery when he was a deputy, before he switched to a state job."

"What about the doctors?"

"All three nurses have assisted in deliveries during their training, but Christopher delivered a baby working in the E.R. when the doctor didn't arrive fast enough. Caleb did an OB rotation, but just regular deliveries. Edwards assisted on two C-section deliveries during his residency, which is a relief to Hershel."

"We aren't expecting C-sections, are we? I mean, best be prepared..."

"Carl was a breech baby, so Lori's had one before. She's going to try labor, but the infirmary will probably be crowded with standbys."

"Gonna be one nervous as hell community that day," T-Dog mutters, and Carol agrees. Patricia's age and Lori's medical history both make the first two deliveries to Homestead interesting ones.

"We're going to call it a night," Jacqui says. Dale and Jim agree, although it seems they're wanting to check on a project at the garage with Jacqui tagging along. T-Dog is called away to sit with his team now that Scout and Shane have taken seats and he bids Carol and Andrea goodnight.

The blonde follows his path as he settles across from Shane, laughing at something the former deputy said. From this angle, you can see where the married couple has their hands laced on Scout's thigh.

"I always wondered why you objected to them, back at the quarry," Carol says before she can curtail old curiosity.

"Honestly? I thought she would toy with him and he was already vulnerable with Rick back. I was the queen of the one night stand myself, and to be honest, a guy raw after a breakup was my favorite type. Just figured she was too much like me to be good for him."

"Sounds like you harbored some affection there."

"Affection? No. Maybe a little attraction, if I'm honest, but we were too small a group for me to rock the boat there."

"That the reason you had your eye on Rick?"

"Not my finest hour and caused me any number of fights with Amy. But probably so. Trying to stick to the no strings attached, no baggage guys now."

"Could settle down and try out something a little more permanent."

"Maybe. But remember that trick where you imagine waking up every day, doing all the mundane things together? I've done that and no man here clicks for that."

"Maybe you shouldn't just consider the men."

Carol has to laugh at Andrea's nonplussed expression.

"Would you? If you weren't with Merle?"

"Maybe. I could claim I was making up for missing my experimental phase in college."

"I'll keep an open mind, but I think I'll stick to the men for now."

Carol finishes her drink. "I'd apologize for abandoning you, but that young Grady cop's headed this way."

Andrea's expression turns anticipatory. "Definitely worth a repeat effort," she says with a wink as Carol leaves her to go bid the baby goodnight as his mothers gather up for the night.

The drowsy baby reaches out for her as she approaches and she gives him a cuddle before returning him to Tara's arms. She finds herself pulled into Merle's as they leave, with him leaning against the wall so he can cuddle her.

"Scout's gonna keep an eye on the younger two for us. Saw you favoring that shoulder you jammed up yesterday. Good hot bath and a massage sound good?"

Oh, it definitely does.

~*~ TD ~*~

"Want to finish watching that movie?" T-Dog asks. Honey's in costume from the Halloween party Carol arranged, her brother's football jersey not as big on her frame as he would've thought.

"Sure. Borrow your bathroom to wash this off?" She motions to the eye black on her face and he nods. She heads for the bathroom while he sets up the movie, snagging a soda for each of them out of his fridge.

She's tugged off the jersey and football pants too during the bathroom trip, emerging with a fresh scrubbed face wearing a tank top that says 'I flexed and my sleeves fell off' over dark leggings. The bad thing is, he can't poke fun at the tank top, because her shoulders and biceps show the payoff of years of lacrosse and now construction work.

She kicks her shoes off too, wriggling her toes as she settles beside him on the loveseat that's about as large as a couch can be in these units.

"You borrow his shoes too?" he asks, amused.

"You ever seen the size of his feet? I'd look like I had clown shoes on. Figured my own lacrosse cleats were close enough." She flips a shoe with her toes so he can see the cleat set-up has a few more than he's used to.

"You should try to get a few teams together. Mini sports league. Got enough of us to pull off most of them."

She looks thoughtful enough that he figures Carol's going to get more social activities for the calendar. Tonight's party was nice, falling in after the trick or treating. He's a little buzzed, a drink past his normal two limit because he hadn't wanted to say no to the excited new brewers.

He knows Honey drank a little, but she pawned half her mug off on Zach after declaring beer too boring to be fun.

She fiddles with his remote, tucking her feet under her as the movie restarts from where they were too tired to finish it two nights ago. By the time the romantic subplot's taken over from the action, her feet have moved to where her toes are slid under his thigh.

That's not unusual for her - she's tactile like every Dixon he's met - but the fact that she's twitchy is. He reaches down to grab one of her ankles and she turns to look and smiles enough that he knows it was on purpose.

"You bored with the movie?"

She shrugs and shifts unexpectedly, moving so that she's kneeling next to him on the couch. He doesn't get the question voiced about what she's up to until she's kissing him. It's not inexperienced either, because she nips at his bottom lip until he parts his lips by habit. The kiss that follows is heated, with her maneuvering to be astride his lap.

A warning flickers in the back of his mind, a reminder of her age, but it's losing ground with the sheer joy of being kissed and touched after many months without. That need to be touched carries him all the way through his shirt and hers coming off, where he discovers the little hints of piercing are true, both her nipples sporting delicate silver jewelry in addition to the navel ring he already knew about.

Exploring them leads to the discovery she's that close to finishing, because she shudders against him with a hoarse cry. His conscience begins its reminders anew as she slides to the floor and begins working the fastenings of his pants. He might have failed to resist temptation even then, but she turns her head as she frees him from his briefs. The light catches the little 'gem' on her daith piercing and he realizes it's a Pokemon ball.

It's like a bucket of ice water to the libido he let free, to know he was about to let her... "Stop, Hannah, please."

The use of her given name has the effect he needs. She lets go of him, one arm going back to cover her bare chest. She doesn't move from where she's kneeling, but he can see the dawning realization on her face that he's calling a full halt, even before he covers himself up.

"Honey, we can't do this." She's eighteen years old. He graduated high school before she started kindergarten.

"Because I'm too young and inexperienced for you?" She doesn't look away or give him any relief from those disappointed blue eyes.

"_I_ am too old for you. I'm thirty-two."

"And if I were twenty-five you wouldn't be worried about a fourteen-year age difference. This isn't before, with all the milestones like college." Her stoicism fades a little and she reaches for her shirt, which ended up on his tiny coffee table.

She tugs it on and rises enough to sit on the edge of the coffee table. He's not sure how to counter that, so she speaks again.

"I should have said something first, but at least now I know, at least a little, what it would be like."

Based on his body's cold shower reaction when his mind caught up, he knows he can't give in to the yearning look. She's a beautiful young woman, and he knows this fucks up their friendship maybe beyond repair, but he just can't forget the tearful girl from the quarry.

"I'm sorry, Honey. I shouldn't have let it go as far as I did." If he stopped her at the kiss, she wouldn't look so heartbroken, maybe.

"I'm not as sorry as I should be."

She stands and leans in for a chaste kiss that he allows despite his misgivings, and then she's gone.

He doesn't know where he missed her interest, perhaps under the impression that her lack of flirting with him meant she categorized him with Shane and the other older men, but his chest aches with the idea he's upset her.

He doesn't need the cold shower, but he goes anyway.

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane's sprawled on the couch reading through the Chamorro language book Cricket gave him while he waits on Scout to come back from a run up to the main house to find the movie she forgot up there earlier.

The knocking at the door is rapid enough to worry him, so he rolls to his feet and gets to the door. He definitely didn't expect to find a weeping sister-in-law on the porch, but he tugs her inside anyway.

"Scout should be back in a minute," he says, but she doesn't seem to care. She's wrapped around him and crying in earnest now. He leads her to the couch and coaxes her to sit and wraps Scout's fleece blanket around her when he realizes how chilled she is.

He just lets himself be her pillow until she finally calms. "You need to talk, che'lu?"

"I wish I was older," she says plaintively.

"Can't help you there, I'm afraid." He thinks he knows what's going on now though. "Tee found out about your crush?"

"More than found out."

Oh Lord. He's not entirely sure he wants details. "I'm sorry."

"I don't want to talk about it. It's too embarrassing."

"Your sister will be back soon," he repeats.

She responds by snuggling close to him. "It's not that. I like talking to you. I just don't want to relive it yet."

He wracks his brain for the sort of things he used to see on TV for women after a heartache and remembers the DVD set Cricket left after Scout's PTSD episode when she brought the little TV. "Can't offer you ice cream or chocolate, but how about popcorn and _Gilmore Girls_?"

She raises her head to give him a puzzled look, which he meets with a smirk. It makes her laugh, so he goes to stick the popcorn in the microwave and grab the DVDs.

That's how Scout finds them half an hour later, Honey still curled into his chest while she helps him make fun of some of the show's dialogue. He remains surprised how much he actually likes the show. They've demolished the bowl of popcorn already.

She takes a look at the still miserable look on her sister's face and mouths, "T-Dog." He nods and she slides the DVD she went to retrieve onto the counter and fetches the popcorn bowl for a refill.

Even when she returns, Honey makes no move away from him. Scout slides between his feet to sit on the floor and hooks an arm under his leg to take her sister's hand.

It's way further into the night than it should be with runs planned tomorrow when Scout coaxes Honey onto the camp cot to sleep.

"Mind if I go check on T-Dog?"

"Go." Scout kisses him and smiles. "I hope you know how much I love you for looking after her tonight."

He's careful with the door behind him and makes his way to the little Village. If T-Dog's light is out, he'll wait until tomorrow, but he sees the glow before he reaches the stairs.

"She okay?"

T-Dog startles him, because his voice comes from the patio table. "Yeah, she's good."

He sits across from the obviously miserable man. T-Dog is turning a glass bottle in his hands, but Shane's pretty sure it's Honey's favorite drink and not his friend's.

T-Dog sits the empty bottle down. "Just how long have I missed she wanted more than friendship out of me?"

"Not that long. Couple of weeks since I noticed anyway."

"Went to get a drink and realized half the items in my kitchen are because she likes them. How did I end up dating a teenage girl without knowing?"

"I think it makes you a decent man that you didn't assume her attention was more than platonic."

"Wasn't a good man tonight." He sounds more miserable than Honey did. "Shane, I should have stopped her when she kissed me, not when I did..."

Shane leans over and grips the other man by the forearm. "Hey, Tee. It's alright. Even if you slept with her, it's alright."

"Didn't go that far. She's too young for me."

"If you think any of us are going to fault you if you are interested, put that aside."

He listens as the man details out exactly what did happen, as little as he wants that level of detail about his younger sister. T-Dog needs a friend, and he hasn't forgotten the man stood by him after Rick's return.

"Wasn't even thinking, wasn't prepared for any woman in my place. That could have had consequences."

Shane can at least absolve him there. "Not an issue with her. With her sisters? She's been covered since she was fourteen." He knows that exact detail due to council meetings, where offering birth control while they have it includes girls as young as fourteen. "And man, far be it from me to tell you what to do, because if you aren't attracted, you just aren't, but you might want to remember she's not the sweet little teen she would've been six months ago."

"I keep seeing her crying that night in the quarry, about me not going back for her dad."

"I don't think nine extra years helped Scout much in seeing her daddy laid low. Think that'd gut Honey at fifty as bad as eighteen."

The other man shifts a little, still playing with the bottle. "Back when I played ball, had teammates in their twenties that saw girls young as sixteen as fair game, long as they weren't jailbait. Never could understand it."

"I get it. Had those same types of teammates. Hell, might have been one of those assholes if it wasn't for a preference for cougars back then. But that ain't you, not now even more than then."

T-Dog sighs. "I don't want her to hate me."

"I think you give her a bit of time to forget the embarrassment factor, and she'll be fine."

"You sure about that?"

"You've met Gage, right?"

"Redhead farm boy that goes back and forth between the farm and building crews?"

"Dated Honey for a year and a half. Broke up last spring."

"She's been matchmaking him with Beth."

"Just goes to prove she won't hold a not-relationship against you." He rises from the chair and reaches out to pat the younger man on the shoulder. "Get some sleep, man. It'll turn out alright."

He leaves him still sitting outside, but Domino passes him on the steps, so at least he's got the lanky dog's company. His own dog falls in at his feet. "Been chasing rabbits with the other dogs, Maverick?"

The staffie just gives his usual goofy doggie grin to getting his ears scratched and they trek back home in the crisp October air.

~*~ LG ~*~

Lori grimaces as the baby tap dances on her bladder and slides out of bed. She knows she probably woke Daryl, but that just means she'll get a few kisses as they settle back down.

She thinks about the cabin today, about his hints toward her taking up her art seriously again. It's been a long time since she considered anything leaving her sketchbook. Her choice to major in art didn't sit well with her parents, who ended up almost relieved that she ended up pregnant and married young with Rick in a steady career.

Rick never discouraged her art. He even bought art supplies as gifts the first few years. But over the years, it fell by the wayside except when the PTA needed posters or a T-shirt designed.

Being turned loose on the cabin without any worries of whether or not it fits a certain preset view of the home feels wild and bohemian. She almost feels her fingers itch in anticipation and wishes paint fumes weren't an iffy issue right now. She'll just have to trust her guys as her brushes, for now. And there's other art she can do or learn.

She tucks herself back into bed and Daryl rolls sleepily back into place. "Whatcha smiling about?" he asks huskily after lazy kiss.

"Would you teach me to carve?"

He takes her hands to explore her fingers. "Could. Wonder if it'd soothe that anxious thing you do with your hands like it does me "

"Is that why you learned?"

"Some. Uncle Gio thought it would help me focus. Had some trouble with motor skills for a while, after the attack. So, when we went to Guam that year, Gio took me to the oldest damned man I ever seen and he taught me to carve. He survived the Japanese occupation of the island, had some nerve damage himself."

He's quiet for a few heartbeats, placing a kiss on each of her cheeks. "I think his stories helped as much as the lessons. He survived years of hell, of literal torture because his skin was too light and they thought him part American. So, it helped to know he got better and had a good life anyway."

"Then I really want to learn. That's a legacy that should be passed on." She rolls to get back to their usual sleeping position. "Teach Abby and Carl and Asskicker too."

"Bet that'd make that old man laugh, all these haole kids carving like his granddaddy taught him. But yeah, any of our kids want to learn, I'll teach." He kisses the back of her neck with a gruff, go back to sleep, woman, and drifts off himself.

One day she needs to ask Merle just how much Daryl had to recover when he was twelve. The scar under his hair isn't the only one she's found, and she hates ripping open wounds she knows from the fight with Scout have never really healed. It'll hurt Merle for her to ask, but she thinks he'd prefer it to be him.

Pushing away the worry, she goes back to sleep herself.


	33. An Explosion of Temper

A/N: Warning Note: Chapter contains accidental violence toward/injury of three females when they try to intervene in a violent scene.

**November 12, 2010**

~*~ GR ~*~

Tim's alert comes across the throat radios and everyone stiffens. "Got a military vehicle on the move, big one. Can't get a good look at the driver, but there's at least two passengers."

Glenn sighs. "How far out?" They're in Gainesville today, having moved east when they either tapped out Cumming or left a few places for the Terminus folks to glean from. Shopping centers like this one - close to a freeway - always make him tense, because he figures if they're going to have encounters, those are the more likely areas. But this one has an Aldi, a Tractor Supply, and some bargain shopping place that are all prime targets.

"Just pulled in over at the gas station. Checking out the pumps."

Which means they can't see Glenn's group, because they're on the backside of the shopping center as usual. He's a little sad for them if they're a good group, because most of the fuel they've been pumping out of the gas stations lately has been contaminated with water. They've been keeping it anyway, since it's sort of usable with some work, but he sure as hell wouldn't put any of it straight in a tank. Daryl's marina diesel is much better with the older type of diesel fuel.

They're really out of luck at that gas station though, because Scout's teams drained it dry when they swept through yesterday.

"Keep on loading. I'm going up to take a look."

Jacqui nods and takes over the store teams. Glenn shimmies up the rope Tim left hanging and creeps across the roof to join the sniper.

"Anything new?"

"Think it's just three of them. Hard to fit anyone else in that truck cab and the back's uncovered. Big guy there? He's military or former military. Clothes probably aren't just a fashion statement. Other guy's a civilian, and of the dumbass variety. Ain't even armed."

"And the woman?"

"I'm going to say jury's out on her. She's got training, but dressed like that in the damned apocalypse? Doubt she's military or law enforcement."

Glenn assesses through his binoculars as he lays prone beside Tim. He has to agree with the comment on the woman. She's wearing a few pieces of military clothing, but the effect is more costume than the realistic. It's hot today, in the seventies despite being mid-November, but stripping down to a tank top like both the two armed members of this group in an unprotected area? Scout would eat them alive.

But as he watches her move with her larger companion, he thinks someone's trained her somehow. She has a lot of the confidence he sees in Maggie and Tara.

It doesn't take them long to find out the tanks are a bust. But the gas station gives more of the truth to them. The woman reemerges with two bags of supplies, her expression concerned.

"He's smarter than I thought, because he's checking roofs," Tim murmurs. He's studying them through his scope, a habit that always creeps Glenn out a little.

"He can't see us, can he?"

"No. We're in too much shadow from the air units. Won't spot us unless we want him to."

"Small group, woman looks healthy. We probably should say hi, but I'm thinking their choice of vehicle leaves a lot to be desired."

Tim snorts. "Think they're gonna try the Aldi. Must have enough fuel to get by for now."

His team hasn't hit the Aldi yet, finding the agri supplies higher priority. "Guess we'll meet up with them. You good for now?"

The sniper nods, gaze intent on the truck now making its way across the parking lot. Glenn keeps low as he backs away from the line of sight and taps his radio to update Jacqui and the teams. He stops by their scout vehicle to radio Homestead and waves to where Sasha's using the truck cab of the semi as a watch perch. Augustus is with them today, head near the gapped driver's window of the scout vehicle. No one will make it down the alley today undetected.

Might as well keep loading. Grocery store is going to keep their attention more than a Tractor Supply, unless they hear the forklift. He considers the issue but decides faster loading is better, especially since this one's got several of the truck bed fuel tanks and the animal feed amazingly not spoiled or invaded by rats. Last time that happened, he found a mama cat and kittens in residence, but no strays so far today.

They're done loading the first truck when he gets back and Jacqui grins at him. "One of these days, we gotta tradeoff for more brawn."

"Or not let Daryl borrow Quinton's team." The former ranger picked three of his people to form a new run team, but Scout hasn't firmly decided if the third team is his or Daryl's yet. But the fish are plentiful and biting right now, so Daryl's got three teams out on the lake, plus another half dozen teenagers, just like he has all week. It's funny watching former game cops grin about 'what limit?' when unloading fish.

"Got all the pet food and supplies on there. Let Carol and Hershel sort what's useful. Zoe's got a pallet over there loading footwear. Wish they'd had more winter gear, but since the place shut down in May, I'm just glad we didn't find starved chicks here."

Glenn shudders. That's the worst part of farm and pet stores... not all employees set the stock free.

He knows Bryce was loading backroom stock with the forklift and Shelby checking his future loads. "Where is Antonio and Christopher?"

"Loading up the loose cleaning supplies and garden supplies in boxes. Best stuff for garden is outside, plus more fencing for the zoo."

"Not sure it qualifies as a zoo when it's mostly farm animals." Glenn leaves Jacqui on guard, since her position in the center aisle lets her see all the doors especially with half the stock gone. He starts loading one of the big rolling toolboxes with supplies from the automotive aisle. They aren't as much priority now, but since they can't load the outside just yet, might as well keep busy.

He listens as Jacqui cycles through check-ins with Sasha and Tim, glad the theory the Aldi would hold the strangers' attention is holding.

They get the second truck loaded and now comes the part that is going to give away their presence. Glenn takes up watch while Sasha and Bryce climb in the trucks and start up the rumbling diesels.

"Any signs on your side?" he asks Tim.

"Not yet. If he's military, he's not coming out in the open without more information."

Glenn glances at Jacqui. There's nothing they direly need inside the store and the other two semis are at the end of the building. They intended to load up the supplies in the fenced area of the parking lot, which is why he brought a semi with a flatbed, but it's completely unprotected if the three strangers are unfriendly.

"Let's see if we can lure them out," he decides, and Jacqui nods. Sasha and Bryce maneuver their loaded semis out to block most of the sightline to the part of the parking lot they need to be in. Jacqui pulls the empty semi and trailer to finish off the protective triangle and Christopher follows with the flatbed with its piggy-back forklift. Glenn pulls the Subaru and its trailer further behind the makeshift barrier.

Tim left his perch on the roof for one on Jacqui's trailer, and Glenn blesses Scout's precautions that he's semi protected by modifications while he keeps watch.

"They're curious, but cautious," Tim reports.

"Drivers stay put. Antonio? How fast can you move that forklift?"

The Vato just laughs, sliding from the passenger seat of the SUV and getting the forklift underway. Glenn motions for Shelby to take his seat in the SUV and goes to help Zoe with the tie down straps.

"Big guy's damn near out the door. Don't think he realizes I'm here." Tim sounds amused. He hasn't gotten to use the perch before on people, since the Terminus encounter was with obviously untrained people.

"He seem trigger happy?"

"Not yet. Can't see the woman or the creampuff."

They actually get the flatbed loaded while the man lurks in the Aldi, so Glenn figures what the hell. "Get the fencing and posts in the trailer."

As a further lure to their watcher, he sets Augustus loose. The big dog does a run around the trucks on command, then jumps up to join Jacqui in her truck.

"Man's at the door now, keeping in the shadow of the soda machine."

"Might make him less nervous to see a woman," Jacqui suggests.

Glenn doesn't like exposing anyone that far, but she's right. Zoe glances his way, putting a hand to her shemagh. Her bright blonde ponytail is more distinctive than Jacqui, Sasha, or Shelby's short hair. He nods and she tugs it down to her shoulders, taking a quick pass by the gap between Jacqui's truck and Bryce's.

"He noticed. Talking to someone."

Glenn walks near the gap to see for himself as the massive guy steps cautiously out of the Aldi. He's tense, with gun in hand, and Glenn's got no doubt that the unseen woman is covering her partner just like Tim's covering him.

He steps out enough to show his weapons are holstered or sheathed and tugs off his own shemagh. "You folks local or passing through?"

"On our way north."

"Well, not much for fuel here. Haven't cleared the stations on the northside yet, and the Aldi's secure for food and water."

"You the leader of these people? You aren't military."

"The ones here right now, yeah."

"Who do I gotta talk to above you?"

Glenn thinks over Tim's military assessment and the partial uniform and decides on Scout versus Merle. Hopefully the guy doesn't outrank her, but there's always Welles in a pinch. "Can call in to the staff sergeant."

"Need assistance getting information to Washington."

Huh. Well that ought to be interesting. He climbs Jacqui's truck and she hands him the handset to her radio. He notes the man's risking coming closer now, probably because of the radio.

"Watch, this is Hermes reporting in. Need someone to fetch the staff sergeant."

"Decided to make it a short walk," comes Scout's reply, her voice pitched to that deeper pitch that makes her gender unclear. Makes sense that someone went to get her with potential military.

"Got a name?" he asks over the hood of the truck.

"Sergeant Abraham Ford. Army out of Texas."

"You are a helluva long way from home, sergeant," Glenn says before keying the mike. "Got a Sergeant Ford out of Texas needing assistance getting information to Washington."

"Awful small contingent for making it to Washington," she replies and he sees Ford understand his group was already spotted. "Put him on."

To his credit, he steps up on the running board and takes the mike through the passenger window Jacqui rolls down.

~*~ LG ~*~

Lori slides food in front of the big Army sergeant while Honey serves his two companions, all of whom look shocked at the contents of their plates. She figures after months on the road, the pita pockets stuffed with roasted vegetables probably seem like manna from heaven.

Abby trots over with bottles of juice, but Lori takes them to deliver to the table. She recognized the signal Scout gave Tara when she left the three travelers to go to the council meeting. They seem friendly and gave up their obvious weapons outside the community center, but she's not stupid.

The folks casually in the room now are all the least noticeable of their military and police. Two of the Grady cops, the really young guys, are playing cards with Karen. Zoe and Bryce have their own plates a table away, and Abby pops into a seat by Bryce that puts him between her and their visitors.

She isn't sure what has Scout alert enough for precautions, but not enough for clearing out Abby and Lori. She'll do her part, just like Honey, who is seated across from the trio now, giving every impression of an innocent teenager.

Rachel's behind the counter as if she always works lunch shift, humming as she makes up more pita pockets for the rest of Glenn's crew.

Lori takes a seat, but lets Honey do the talking.

"All the way from Texas? Geez, I thought us making it up here from Florida was impressive."

The leader is too tense to bother with conversation, but the other man seems intrigued by their setup. "I'm amazed at how much of civilized life you're maintaining here."

"We had a good head start. Can you believe my dad and his work crew built this building in less than a month? Electric, plumbing, the whole shebang."

"And there are no dead here?"

"Inside the boundaries? Never." Honey looks affronted. "It would take a tank to get through our borders. Plus, the supply teams keep the dead cleared out of the land around us."

"Even the herds?" It's the woman who asks that one.

"Well, if they spot a herd it gets monitored. Gotta decide if it's worth the ammo and stuff. But yeah, even those."

"Just what kind of stockpile do you people have?"

Honey giggles. "Did you know their heads are so rotten a high-power pellet gun will take most down? Pellets are easy to collect and easy to make."

"Air rifles. I would never have thought of such a method for such a dire predator." Lori's hands itch to get ahold of the man's mullet.

"That's because you're from Texas. It's all about the big guns down there."

"You're the staff sergeant's sister, right?" Rosita asks.

"One of them, yeah. Lori here is my aunt, that's my little cousin, and the gloomy gus holding up the wall by the entrance is my sister-in-law."

The far door, the one used for farm deliveries, opens and Jazz and Jimmy come in with heavily laden bushel baskets of sweet potatoes. Honey grins and points. "Big one's my brother, blondie's from down around Senoia."

Their loads delivered, each teenager gets a pita pocket and thanks Rachel for the snack. Jazz stops at the door to call back to Honey, "You gonna be long? Gonna try to get a game together."

"Can I play?" Abby asks, scrambling to her feet.

"Sure, munchkin, long as it's alright with your mama."

Lori nods when Abby gives her a pleading look. "Mind Jasper and wear your helmet." The kids disappear after Honey assures them she probably won't be too long.

"Helmet? Is the little girl playing football?" Eugene asks.

"Nope. Lacrosse."

"The oldest organized sport in America. I understand it is growing in popularity among high schools and colleges."

"That's because it's an awesome sport. So much better than football or baseball."

"I would understand from your reply and his request that you play?" The other two seem mostly content to let Eugene banter with the young woman.

"Since I was twelve, yeah. Community league, then the high school team."

As the discussion evolves into a detailed discussion of the sport that Eugene seems to have an academic knowledge of, Lori glances to the man's companions, who've cleared their plates.

"There's more, if you're still hungry."

Rosita looks to Abraham, who is watching the conversation between Eugene and Honey as of it's the weirdest thing he's ever seen. "We'd appreciate it, if there's enough to spare."

"Oh, there's certainly enough. Food is the one thing we have in blessed abundance."

She gets up and takes their plates to the counter for Rachel to refill. When she makes her way back to the table, she sees Rosita's eyes on her stomach.

"You can ask, you know."

"You aren't far enough along to have been pregnant before, are you?"

Now they have Abraham's attention and even Eugene's.

"No, I'm not. I'm due in February."

"And you think it's safe, to bring a baby into the world?"

"We're no worse off here than many women in third world countries who dealt with war and famine and disease. We're better off, because we do have medical care and facilities."

Honey nods. "We have two doctors, three nurses, a medical student, a veterinarian, and a paramedic. Plus, a couple of people continuing medical training for nursing."

Abuelita appears in the entrance, rapid-fire Spanish leaving Lori out of the loop, but Honey pops up and goes to fetch whatever the elderly woman needs.

Abraham doesn't seem to follow the conversation, but both Eugene and Rosita do, so Lori makes a mental note of it.

"How many elderly do you have that she wants twenty fruit cups for afternoon snack?" Rosita asks incredulously.

"Twenty-two, actually. An entire nursing home was abandoned in Atlanta, left with just a janitor and a single nurse as staff and some grandchildren willing to stay and risk the city. We brought them with us when we came home. It was quite an effort to build a facility here to house them safety considering the virus' nature, but we weren't going to abandon them."

It's further proof that Scout - or Merle - wants the trio to see the Homestead as safe, because Lori knows the nursing home has plenty of fruit and snacks in its own kitchen. Abuelita thanks Honey and kisses the girl's cheeks before leaving with her loot.

Eugene looks both relieved and strangely terrified all of a sudden, and it clicks into place for Lori before the man's words fully register.

"I'm not a scientist." He's on his feet, babbling in his pedantic fashion, and while Rosita looks crushed and horrified as his confession progresses, Abraham goes still and blank in a way that puts every cop in the room on alert.

Lori doesn't need any of them to tell her to put the counter between her and the big redhead. Honey doesn't follow, and Lori realizes the blithe, chatty girl is gone, replaced by the catlike watchfulness she associates more with Scout.

Abraham's punch is both expected and unexpected, and Tara and Honey are closest. Both of them leap to restrain the man as the others surge forward, only to be flung away. Rosita tries to help and ends up tumbled away as Abraham tries to continue the attack on Eugene.

He fights against the cops and Rachel with a fury that is terrifying, but then someone tases him and he goes down hard. By the time he stops jerking, they have him zip tied and on his belly, with Rachel with a knee in his back.

"Start fighting us again, asshole, and I'll trade my taser for the gun and put a bullet in your brain." The former marshal's voice is dead serious.

The big man goes voluntarily limp as Honey tosses the taser in her hand, sliding it toward the counter. Lori realizes it was the teenager who deployed the weapon to disable him and wonders where she got it from.

Honey and Rosita both hover over Eugene, and Tara radios for medical. The damage to the man's face is horrific, but he appears to be responding to the women.

By the time everyone is cleared out of the community center, Lori is shaking herself. She follows to the infirmary because she didn't miss that Honey had her left arm cradled against her once the adrenaline faded. She has to make sure the girl is okay.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol opens the door to the equipment barn and stares at the man slumped against the tire of the backhoe, still bound hand and foot. When Shane and T-Dog stuffed him in here, they cut the zip tie on his hands and added cuffs to secure him to the boom of the small backhoe.

"I trust you've been using this time to think about why you're in here?"

He doesn't raise his head. "He lied to us for months. People died to get him here.'

"Were any of them forced to come? You can't know that they wouldn't have died in some other way. And since his goal was a safe haven, if they had made it, his lie would've led them to safety."

"Are you defending him?"

"Not so much defending him as understanding him. You've never had to be defenseless in the world, Sergeant Ford. It can make people do a lot more than lie when they need help to survive. He's not a pretty woman or a helpless child or someone cute and appealing for others to help. So, he made himself important."

Abraham raises his head and she thinks he's been crying. He studies her. "You're speaking from experience."

"When I left my abusive first husband in a camp outside Atlanta, he waited until dark and came after me and my daughter with a loaded gun. Scout - the staff sergeant - put him down herself. We don't tolerate abuse of those weaker here, Sergeant."

"I've never hurt Eugene before."

"And will you again?"

He shakes his head and she believes him, as much because of his companions' testimony as his own.

"You didn't just hurt him today."

"Who else? Rosita?"

"She'll be fine. Some bruises. One of the other women needed six stitches in her eyebrow and will have quite the impressive shiner. But you broke my daughter's arm."

He makes a sound of anguish she thinks is genuine. "The girl who helped feed us?"

"Yes."

"How bad?"

"Medical tells me it's a clean break and she'll heal in six weeks or so."

"I'm sorry. I never intended to hurt anyone, not even Eugene."

"I don't know where that rage came from, although with the world around us, I can draw a few conclusions. We'll forgive this outburst, but it's a one-time deal. You go after another person with intent for serious harm and it won't be a taser as your consequence."

He doesn't answer at first and then she almost misses the first part. "I saved him when I was about to kill myself after I found my family dead. Getting him to Washington, it gave me purpose, a way to honor my family by saving others."

"So, you lost the purpose his lie gave you, to save others by finding a cure." He nods. "You should let yourself grieve now. If saving others gives you purpose and honors your family, then we can certainly offer you that opportunity here."

"Can you tell your daughter and the others I'm sorry I hurt them?"

"You'll tell them yourself."

He frowns and she reaches out to unlock the cuffs, then snips the zip tie at his feet. "You're going to get a shower and clean clothes and then you'll face what you've done today."

He nods in compliance and follows her, not seeming to notice the two very armed and forbidding men trailing them. She didn't really need the escort, but after the scene in the community center, she understands that Merle and Shane won't risk another female around him just yet.

She opens the door to one of the unused RVs. "This will be your quarters for now. You'll find clothing, towels, and toiletries inside. Clean up and one of these fine gentlemen will show you where to go next."

"Alright."

He starts inside and she calls his name and gives him her best smile. "I told you the community consequences if you hurt someone again. I'm leaving you with my consequences. Harm a single hair on one of my children's heads again, and you'll pray for a death as easy as a bullet brings. The last sight you'll have on Earth is when I slit your throat myself."

He blinks and swallows, finally noticing her shadows. Whatever he sees in the men confirms her words for him and he nods. "Yes ma'am."

She doesn't stay to see him go inside and doesn't look back.

She meant every word.

~*~ DD ~*~

Daryl's on guard in the infirmary, although saying that aloud would get him a lot of flak by the other residents of the room.

Honey, irrepressible as ever, is actually sitting on the new idiot's hospital bed, comfortable as one can be with a newly broken arm. She's actually challenged the man to decorate her pastel green cast with a periodic table from memory and he's got an audience where Sophia and Abby are watching his work with Sophia's pens.

Her interactive chatter is helping the medical staff, since he's under concussion watch, but Daryl would much prefer she were on another bed. Across the room. Maybe in a different building. Along with the other two girls and Lori.

None of them would welcome his overprotectiveness, not when Eugene's the victim and not the perpetrator. Even Lori gave him a narrow-eyed look when he suggested maybe everyone should go back to the main house. She's sitting with a book in one of the visitor's chairs, keeping a close eye on everything like Daryl is.

Rosita is watching from a nearby bed. She came out of the brawl relatively unscathed, but got put on concussion watch too after the doctor found a goose egg from impact with the floor.

Tara looks the worst other than Eugene himself, who has a fractured orbital socket and a broken nose. Tara missed out on broken bones, but the elbow to her face landed her a set of stitches in her right brow and a black eye to rival a prize fighter. Since she's also being monitored for concussion, she and Cricket are amusing their son with blocks on a tiny table at the far end of the room.

All four will probably feel like utter shit tomorrow when the body bruises finish blooming.

The door opens to the infirmary ward and Abraham Ford steps inside, looking not much better than some of the others. Daryl wonders how many of the injuries are from being brought down and how many are from the fact he can see Merle's knuckles are freshly bruised.

Eugene flinches back, shrinking into the pillow and Honey's glare toward Ford could melt steel. She shifts and puts herself firmly between the two men and Ford backs up a few steps. That's when Daryl realizes her hand went to her shoulder holster and the blade there.

"I'm just here to offer my apologies. What I did, especially endangering others, was uncalled for."

Honey's expression reminds him of the mulish one she favored T-Dog with back at the quarry, but as Eugene speaks, it lessens a little.

"I regret that my lie caused you such grief. You do not need to apologize to me, just these ladies hurt defending me."

Ford gets credit for studying each woman's injuries carefully. "I've never injured a woman in my life before today. It won't be something I ever do again."

Before Daryl can voice the 'you can fucking bet on that' he's feeling, Honey tilts her head. "I'll believe you, but partly because I got to tase you til you pissed yourself."

Tara laughs, and the sound proves contagious. Even the baby laughs, which draws Ford's attention.

"Your son?"

Tara nods, scooping Christian up in her arms on the side away from her stitches.

"He's a good-looking boy." When the big redhead's voice breaks at the end, Daryl wonders if that well of rage the man tapped into today has the same source Merle's had on that Atlanta rooftop. If so, they're probably out of miracles.

Cricket breaks the tense silence. "Have a seat, Sergeant Ford. You get a look over too, and I promise to remember my bedside manner despite the fact my partner has six stitches and looks like she lost a bout in the boxing ring and my sister's arm's in a cast."

He doesn't refuse, but carefully takes a seat on a bed on the side of the room opposite the women. He sheds his shirt and Cricket goes through an exam, declaring him in reasonable shape and to see someone tomorrow if the ribs still ache for an X-ray. She darts an exasperated look toward Merle at that one. She didn't miss his knuckles either.

Honey used the time to coax Eugene into finishing the periodic table on her cast. The man's nervous of Ford being in the room, but not scared as he was before.

His shirt back on, Ford's heading for the exit and his escorts when he pauses in front of Lori. Daryl moves and Ford backs up a step. "I just wanted to ask that she and the baby are okay."

Lori reaches out and snags Daryl's hand and he lets her draw him to her side. "I'm just fine. I wasn't involved in trying to restrain you."

"Good."

He's led away by his looming escort and Daryl sighs. He just hopes these three newest residents don't continue as they began, in angst and drama.

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle sits in the empty chair by his sleeping daughter's bed and studies the darkened room. She could have gone home, the only one of the four with no head injury, but declared she was sticking it out in solidarity and sent Sophia off to fetch 'supplies', which turned out to be DVDs and board games.

Even the new woman lost her reserve under Honey's determination to keep everyone's mind off why they were stuck together. Tara and Rosita lasted through two games of Life and a blackjack tournament that would have ended with everyone in eternal debt to Sophia if it continued. But Carol arrived to shoo Lori and the younger kids off to bed, offering to take Christian for the night too.

Cricket and Tara fell asleep watching some godawful romcom that Rosita finished while Honey baffled the hell out of Eugene by making him play Battle Sheep while teaching him completely random words in Chamorro. He's not even sure she told the man it's a real language yet.

The call Tara put out for medical earlier makes his blood run cold even hours later. Leaving the strangers in the community center seemed a calculated yet safe risk to get to the bottom of the frankly puzzling claim of special knowledge. Washington made no sense. Anyone with real intel would be looking for the CDC. Not that it's still standing, but they should look there first and this group didn't.

The explosion of rage when the suspected ruse was uncovered didn't fit anyone's assessment of Abraham Ford. Rosita's tearful claims and even Eugene himself attested it was unexpected. Having so many cops in the room gave them a clear picture of what happened, so the trio stays, for now.

The asshole at least didn't object to the sheer number of people who would be out for his blood if he lost his temper again. Funny part about the sideways looks he got about the man's sore ribs was that those were mostly from the takedown. Merle cracked his knuckles open when he left hooked him when he stepped out of the RV after his shower. Although Shane's method of putting him against the RV to listen to Merle's instructions on his future behavior could have worsened the ribs - and one shoulder.

Any future reprisal would be of the Disney sort. He suspects his daughter will keep that colored cast in the man's line of sight often. Maybe he should get her a taser of her own, too.

Eugene isn't asleep, but he doesn't seem willing to start any conversation that might disturb the sleepers. Merle sighs and rummages in Honey's bag for the deck of cards. He's puzzled about Merle's silent offer to play, but accepts.

As for Merle, he just hears the echo of Honey's words before she slept when he asked her why she stayed focused on distracting - and protecting - Eugene all evening. He didn't miss the move toward her blade earlier.

Her quietly whispered reply?

"He talks like Jazz did, before his speech therapy."

And the more Merle watches him, the more he sees all the same signs, plus ones he's seen more in books than in his home.

He just hopes this beaten up underdog deserves the champions he's unknowingly won. Where Honey goes, all the other ducklings will follow on this one.

A/N: Consider Eugene's confession to follow the same dialogue as the show.


	34. Baring the Soul

A/N: The rating changed on Ao3 in this chapter from M to E. For the purposes of , it's been edited back to M.

Warning: there's some intense discussion of Merle's past, both with his wife and growing up. He recalls and relates to Carol about an experience he considers dub-con. If that might bother you, skip the Merle POV that follows Carol telling him she's not a college girl out to have sex on all the flat surfaces in the house. Carol's POV after fills in the gaps with less detail.

**November 13, 2010**

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol shifts the baby on her hip as she steps into the hospital ward of the infirmary. It's really earlier than she wanted to wake anyone, but Christian's fussy, and the boy's had too much upheaval not to cater to him a bit.

But apparently she didn't need to worry about waking some of them. Honey's up and emerging from the bathroom in running gear, yawning, and everyone else is in various stages of wakefulness too. So, she passes the excited baby to his mamas, who drop back to their narrow, shared hospital bed to cuddle him. Merle kisses her in passing, a brief, chaste thing, obviously intent on the tiny room Honey just vacated.

"You're going to join the run this morning?" Carol asks, not really surprised that a broken arm isn't slowing Honey down. Scout leads runs six days a week around the property, and every supply team member is required to run fifteen miles a week, plus PT five days a week. Most have worked their way up to the same pace and length Scout and Shane run at most days, three miles, although Carol's not quite there yet. Today's the longer day, which Carol uses as an off day, because if three miles is a bit much, ten's just not happening.

"Yeah. Don't need the arm for running. Don't worry. I'll skip the pushups when we get to PT." She grins and kisses Carol's cheek as she crams things in her bag. She waves at her fellow patients. "I'll see y'all at breakfast."

Rosita frowns a bit as she watches her go. "You do military PT here?"

"To an extent, yes. Most of these people were like me at the beginning, slow, no skills that worked in a rough and physical world. So, one of our Marines who has a sports training background modified a few of the routines Marines use to past their fitness tests for different ability levels." Carol looks her over as she unloads a backpack from the wagon and hands it to her. "Don't think you'll have any problems fitting into the higher levels I'm still working up to. The bag's sort of our 'welcome' package. Toiletries, two complete changes of clothes, a notebook that gives you community guidelines and covers anything I might miss in our little orientation."

She hands Eugene's off to him before continuing. "Normally, you'd get three or four days to rest and adjust before cycling into a work roster of some sort, but due to your injuries, you can take a week if you need, and Eugene, you're limited until you get medical clearance." He looks apprehensive, but has his notebook out and reading already. It doesn't surprise her, as he seems to be the type to need to absorb information as quickly as possible.

"And Abraham?" Rosita asks.

Merle's out of the bathroom now and answers. "Abraham will still get a few rest days. Coming off the road's a hell of its own kind and the mind's gotta try to adjust to not being on constant alert. Main difference between him and you two is that neither of you are required to have a babysitter. We're short on shrinks to help him deal with whatever PTSD he's got going, but it'll be up to Scout how fast he gets complete freedom of the place."

"That's the staff sergeant, right?"

"She doesn't fall back on the rank much anymore, but yeah. Anything security goes through her and Shane."

Carol smiles at Eugene, who isn't speaking yet. "You look worried."

"I am uncertain what I have to offer to your community."

"Well, we have a couple of questions we ask for newcomers. First one is, 'what did you do before?' Second one is 'do you want to keep doing that?' if it's possible. If the second's impossible or the answer's no, then you pick something to learn. I've got cops who asked to retire to simpler duties and an ex-pizza delivery boy leading a combo of supply teams."

"Got a mechanic?" Rosita looks intrigued.

"One who does it full time, a few who help out. He'd certainly enjoy a full-time coworker, if that's what you like, or you can do a mixed shift if you did want to join a supply team or one of the other crews. Merle's always happy to take on another set of hands on the building crew, even if it's just a day here and there."

"What'd you do, Eugene?" Merle asks.

"I was a science teacher."

Carol smiles warmly and the man responds with a weak return smile. "What grade level?"

"High school."

"Well, we don't make the older teens attend classes, but you're welcome to join the teaching staff for the elementary kids, or see if there's areas your training can be put to use on other needs in the community. One of our supply team leaders was a third-grade teacher before, but she wanted to do something more active. You could even just put in a day a week teaching and not commit full time, if you like."

"You're pretty good at cobbling things together and coming up with unique solutions," Rosita ventures. "They got power and water and all sorts of things here that could probably use someone who understands electronics and engineering."

"There's no need to decide today, either. Relax, explore, figure out a niche. And if the first one doesn't work, come to me and we'll figure a new one out. About the only thing you wouldn't be eligible to do, even with medical clearance, is the supply runs." Carol makes sure her smile is kind as he doesn't quite meet her eyes. "You'll need to join in some of the fitness programs, and to be baldly honest, I'd estimate three to six months at a steady training pace before Scout would let you out."

"I would not like to endanger anyone on the outside by being inept and overweight."

"I understand. I don't do runs myself yet, but I'm getting there."

Merle scoffs. "Only because you're too busy learning absolutely everything to spend a lot of time working out."

She just laughs, but either her comparison to her own developing fitness or Merle's joke about her learning everything seems to ease Eugene's tension a bit. "How about we let you two get some clothes on instead of those scrubs you were given at your checkups last night, then I'll take you to find Abraham and breakfast?"

"Gonna go join the first half of the run," Merle tells her with a kiss.

She can't resist. "Getting too old for the full thing?"

"It's ten damned miles, woman. Ten miles ain't happening at five a.m." But he laughs as he heads for the door, leaving her with her newest charges, alone more or less since Tara, Cricket, and Christian are sound asleep despite the conversation in the room.

"They run ten miles?" The astonished question comes from Rosita and not Eugene.

"On Saturdays, yes. Although to be honest, I think there's only about half a dozen people who do the full ten. Most people drop out about halfway, like Merle's planning to do. And I'm still working on the three-mile goal I set myself, so I take today as my off day for running." She's proud of her two-mile runs, even if Sophia's surpassed her to the full three now.

"And the PT?"

"Half an hour, at least five days a week, regardless of whether or not you're a supply runner, within medical clearances. We don't have the luxury of surgeons anymore, so fitness is a priority." Eugene looks disheartened, and Carol can understand. She simply had to deal with being out of shape, not overweight, but some of the others have had to shed pounds too. She takes a seat next to him on his hospital bed, which gets her his attention. "When we get you clear of medical, pick someone you'd feel comfortable working out with and skip the group PT for a while."

He mulls that over and nods, then rises with his backpack and heads for the bathroom. She looks to Rosita, who shrugs. "We didn't do him any favors keeping him protected, did we?"

Carol shakes her head. "Not really. I've heard stories, from Scout's group she collected along the road from Jacksonville, and it was hard at first for them to adapt and change, but those folks are the ones you'd never guess started out the apocalypse without any survival skills at all." She points to the one private exam area. "You can change there if you like. I'm sure you're as anxious to see Abraham as he is to get out of his house arrest situation."

Rosita gives her a grateful smile on the way.

~*~ MD ~*~

By the time Merle's put in his miles and showered, Carol's had their newbies at breakfast long enough to finish and just be sitting observing. It's not a bad process to acclimatize, the people watching, and Carol's natural calming effect seems to work even on the still uneasy Abraham.

"Good morning again," he says, accepting a kiss as he sorts out just what ended up in the two bowls Glynnis handed him, shrugging at the quinoa that the dietician gal works into eggs along with a veggie or two for breakfast bowls. The other's yogurt with fruit and granola, which he's not fond of, but he's also about to spend the whole day putting in fence and posts, so might as well eat what he's given. Carol slides his water bottle in front of him as she usually does, while sipping her own apple juice. He gets several bites underway before bothering to greet their table guests.

"You skipping PT today?" she asks, noticing he arrived about twenty minutes earlier than he normally would.

"Putting in more fencing on the horse farm today, so figure gonna get enough of a workout then. Ain't like the supply runs of hurry up and wait."

"You're fencing more land in? How much is here?" Rosita asks. He suspects she'll be the spokesperson for the trio for a while, both by personality and the fact that Abraham still looks more than a little shell shocked.

"Got sixty-three acres under the secure section. Another forty on the farm part, where you were driven through yesterday. Secure from walkers, maybe not so much if human assholes come along. Horse farm's the newest part. Got it fenced with a stash of high security mesh bound for a new prison and closed us in another forty acres or so."

"And there are animals? Your daughter mentioned it while playing that sheep game last night. Something about her brother planning enough sheep to turn the place into New Zealand. Carol showed us a small flock in an electric pen on the way here." Eugene looks curious, and Merle's glad to see he absorbed something out of Honey's chatter.

"The animals are part of why we had to bring in the extra forty acres. We had space for what I already had here, mostly the sheep, and on the vegetable farm for their pigs. But they've been snatching up every loose farm critter like a modern day Noah's Ark, so we needed more pastures. New place wasn't meant for more than a bunch of pretty horses on existing fencing, so we've been taking a couple days here and there off building to circle in another pasture. Man that found you three? He's a magnet for the weirder critters."

Carol laughs. "So far he's discovered a still thriving rabbit farm, multiple cats, a dozen emu, two llamas, and an illegal deer farm that actually hadn't been overrun yet."

"Illegal deer farm?" Rosita looks apprehensive. Merle doesn't blame her.

"State of Georgia licenses raising non-native deer as livestock, but can't do paid hunts. From the looks of the place, Daryl did a bunch of cussing they didn't get caught and shut down before. They were healthy and safe because of the fencing for the hunts, so we now have thirty fallow deer sharing acreage with about twelve cattle." They'd only found ten cattle left on Hershel's farm, hopefully due to the damn things wandering off and not being eaten by walkers, plus four horses.

"You'll be raising and eating the deer?" Eugene asks.

"That seems to be our youngest boy and our veterinarian's current plan, so time will tell." He turns to Carol. "Give Honey the day to play tour guide. She can probably run the tractor and post driver with the cast, but might as well have a break."

"Farm's winding down on needing a lot of hands, so take Jimmy, Michaela, and Nicole today. Michaela can manage the tractor if Jimmy can't."

He nods and she makes note in her ever-present notebook, which draws the trio's attention.

"Y'all had time to read your little guidebooks yet?" Eugene nods, but the other two shake their heads, so he explains the work credits with Carol, which leads him to finishing his meal and stacking the bowls just as Honey plops down beside him, freshly showered and too damn hyperactive for someone who just ran the same five miles he did plus PT with Jamie.

"One of these days, I'm gonna find your batteries, girl," he tells her and she just bops him with her spoon before delving into the same concoction he ate earlier. "You up for tour guide today?" He glances to Abraham, who flinches a little when Honey shifts the casted arm beside her bowl and stares at the redhead.

"Could. You got a sub for me?" He nods and she keeps staring at Abraham. He thinks she likes him squirming, and it is a little odd, watching such a big guy wilt under the stare of a teenager. But guilt is a powerful motivator, and while he's making a huge gamble on his daughter playing tour guide to the group, he also knows Scout's planning on being the man's shadow today rather than enjoying her day off. "I'm guessing none of you can ride horses?"

Eugene looks a little terrified, Abraham apprehensive, and Rosita excited. The woman obviously understands her companions though, because she sighs. "Maybe another time without the boys?"

Honey laughs. "You like riding horses and Beth will love you forever if you help her out on the days no one needs 'em. They got homebases yet, Mom?"

The casual use of 'mom' toward Carol makes her glow with pleasure as always. She shakes her head though. "Haven't assigned quarters yet."

"Let me guess. You're gonna need one couple and one single." The single is an astute hint to Carol from the young woman, because things are crowded enough now that some of the younger crowd have roommates.

He looks between Abraham and Rosita to see if Honey's assessment is correct and after a moment, the big man nods. It causes an odd look to flit over Rosita's face, and Merle suspects it was the hesitation.

"Well, all things considered, I'll assign Rosita a unit and she can choose solo for the duration of your nighttime confinement to the RV or share the RV with you," Carol says. Abraham stiffens at the reminder that he's on indefinite house arrest at night. The folks who took a guard shift made sure he knew they were there. Merle's willing to give the man some leeway, because he understands PTSD and what this hellhole of a world can take from you, but his people don't go as casually and heavily armed in Homestead as they did in the camps outside the property. It was partly luck that Tara's taser got knocked off her belt for Honey to deploy yesterday, and he reminds himself to tell Shane to issue her one of her own.

Carol consults her book. "Give her number three in Sagittarius, next to Alaina and her granddaughter." She glances up to Rosita. "That'll put you one building over from your new guide, if you need anything. Would you mind being in another building from the other two, Eugene? My single openings are further down, but I think I can swing you one without a roommate since we just had two pairs move into couples units. The closer one doesn't have a private bath or any kitchen facility, but there's another one that does several buildings down."

"I will accept whatever accommodations are necessary, ma'am, but I truly would prefer bathroom facilities that aren't shared."

Merle reaches over and taps the other empty couples unit in the building she just assigned to Rosita. She arches a brow, before he moves a finger next to the empty unit she was about to assign and sees Andrea's name. He sees her understand that bad combination of the awkward man and the often brusque ex-lawyer. They can always switch out the dorm style beds if they run out of couples space, and Eugene could probably use the space. And he suspects Honey will be acting as Eugene's guide far longer than the other two.

"On the other hand, we'll do a different shuffle." Carol smiles. "Show Eugene to number one in Sagittarius."

"Will do." She finishes her food and snags all the dishes with efficiency, made easy by everyone using bowls. Rosita starts to help and gets waved off. Honey trots over and pesters her roommate for a minute before returning.

"I'm gonna go gear up since we'll be going remote if they get the full tour," she tells Merle.

"Alright. Firearms, not air rifle."

She nods and heads off.

Merle levels his gaze at Abraham, who takes the warning with a nod of acceptance. Yesterday was a fluke because no one wanted to hurt the man.

He doesn't think his daughter will make that mistake again.

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle pulls Carol close, nuzzling her throat with small nips of his teeth. She shocked him at supper by leaning over and whispering in his ear that the flowing skirt she is wearing is hiding a lack of panties.

That's what's led to him feeling like a damn teenager as he shuts the deck door behind him and walks her backward toward the bed. He hasn't tested the claim yet and tamps hard on his urgency. Two can tease.

chapter gap

~*~ CP ~*~

He kisses her bare shoulder. His voice is so hoarse she can barely make out the "love you" he says against her skin. He runs a hand across her skin, gently exploring like he always does after making love. There's a quality to the touch, to the way he needs to keep in contact after, that makes her think it's one of those issues like her need to see him during sex.

She realizes they've never had anything along the lines of a quickie that other women share about. Even Jacqui's quipped about Jim. But Merle never seeks anything unless he's got time to lie relaxed against her afterward.

"You're thinking mighty hard."

She rolls to her back and smiles at him, wondering of this is a pandora's box issue or just a quirk of preference.

"Just lost in thought."

He looks thoughtful, but lets it slide in favor of getting them under the covers after a trip to the bathroom for a warm washcloth to run across their skin and donning minimal nightclothes.

"What's worrying you?" he asks softly.

"That we might still be hiding from our pasts." She slides her hand firmly across his abs and opens her pandora's box. "Not being able to see you. It's not as terrible as your imagination might go. After Sophia, after having a girl instead of the son he wanted, he lost interest except when he occasionally decided a real man had a son to carry on his name."

She raises her arm and laughs a little. "It's funny how he never once paid enough attention to know how impossible I made that for him."

Merle reaches up to run his fingers across the bump of the implant. He never focuses on it when he explores her skin, but he would never have missed it or its predecessors for years.

"Ed was a monster in a lot of ways, but in the bedroom, just unimaginative and self-centered. I need... like... to see you because it amplifies everything I feel when you react to it."

"And tonight?"

"Hearing you react is almost better than seeing it."

He grins and she kisses him, enjoying the groan she draws out of him.

"That all that's on your mind?"

Time to find out if her worry is as insubstantial as his. "We've never just had a quickie."

And it's not.

He's struggling with a reply and starts and stops before rolling to his back. But he reaches out to pull her to him and when he's got her in his arms but rolled to his chest, he finally speaks.

"I loved my ex-wife. And I think she probably had as much affection for me as she was capable of feeling, at least in the early years. Didn't really expect the deal she made me to last any longer than my first enlistment. Figured I'd end up with Daryl and that was enough.

"My daddy was the monster Ed wasn't. Pretty sure from the fights they had when Mama was pregnant with Daryl that he wasn't her only me, just the only one that survived the beatings. He didn't want a wife or kids, just got stuck with her and me cos he was a fucking pervert who got a fourteen-year-old girl pregnant."

She hugs him tighter, wishing she could see his face but understanding his need to let this out into the quiet of their dark bedroom and not face-to-face.

"Wasn't even illegal. Age of consent was fourteen, so her daddy just married her off and washed his hands of it so he could sit in church each week and call his conscience clear. So, I went into being married without a clue that routine sex twice a week like clockwork wasn't exactly the norm either. Buddies in the service who were married bitched about getting laid once a month if they were lucky, so I figured I had it made."

He shifts and she realizes he's trying for the nightstand, so she moves to let him retrieve a worn photo album from the bottom drawer. She's seen it before, but never opened it. He flips the lamp on and settles them so she's nestled against him at the headboard.

He opens it past the first few pages, but she gets a glimpse of a pretty blonde teenager with a curly-haired toddler before it's gone so he's on the page he wants. Unlike the other albums or photos in the house, this one has images of a woman who is unmistakably Lilliana Dixon from her strong resemblance to Honey more than her other children.

What surprises her is that she didn't expect to see a smiling woman from all the scraps she's collected of her. It's not the bright enthusiasm of her daughters, but Carol goes still when she does recognize it in her son. She reaches out to trace the edge of a Polaroid of Lilliana and Daryl, her smile on the boy and not the photographer as she holds the beautiful blond toddler close.

"She loved him." Everything in Lilliana's body language in that photo and the others she can see shows obvious affection.

"She did," he admits, turning the pages almost absently. It's a normal family chronicle with the only photos of Merle are the occasional family shots. She suspects all the ones with just Merle and any of the kids are in the albums she's already seen. These have been hidden away to protect Daryl and Scout.

Scout appears to make most photos a happy trio, but Merle stops about two pages in once Cricket's in the images. Carol sees what he's waiting on her to see.

Lilliana Dixon no longer smiles in any of the photos and after the hospital photos, every image of the baby has her in Daryl or Scout's arms, never her mother's.

"It's funny, how pictures can tell a story you miss when you're in the middle of living. I sorted things out, put away all the pictures of her, and saw when it went wrong."

He's quiet as she takes over flipping the pages. The only hospital photo with Honey has the baby in Daryl's arms and the two other girls posed with him, all sitting on an empty bed in a semi-private room. Lilliana's in the background in the other bed, curled on her side and facing away from the children.

It's the last photo of the woman.

"Lil was Catholic. Deep belief in no birth control but abstinence, and it's probably just dumb luck and military deployments that there's five years between the older girls. She had such an easy pregnancy with Cricket that we didn't really clue in she was expecting til the baby started moving. I don't think she intended to get pregnant then, and I know she didn't with Honey."

Carol feels a wave of sorrow roll through her. Merle adores his daughters, and to think of him not having them is abhorrent.

"I came home from Iraq with a load of PTSD and precious little help from the Marines to deal with it. Sex helped, and Lil was good with it, so we went from that careful schedule to a lot of barely good quickies. She got pregnant and it was a horror show at first. Ended up in the E.R. a couple of times due to dehydration because she couldn't keep anything down."

"Hyperemesis."

He closes the album and nods. "I got my discharge and we moved back to Georgia because while most of my father's family was the sort of white trash no one wants around, my Mama's grandmother was a good woman and still living. She didn't mind having us underfoot and Lil had some help while I was working."

"What happened to your great grandmother?" The woman wasn't mentioned when Merle told her about Will Dixon's attack.

"She was 84. Had a stroke about two weeks before Honey was born. She was in the assisted living place when everything happened with Will. He probably found us cos we were living in her house. Granny encouraged me taking the kids to Guam, so I did. She died of another stroke while we were over there."

Carol hugs him close, mulling over the checkered history he shared with her to sort out how it relates to her comment about their sex life. "So, you don't like quickies because of how things were after you came home from the Gulf?"

"That's the start of it. Half the married guys in my unit ended up with a kid within a year of coming home, so I know I wasn't the only one who coped like that. But I don't have a taste for sex that involves a quick orgasm and walking away to finish up your day, no."

"I don't mind. I'm not a college girl who needs the challenge of having sex on all the flat surfaces in the house."

He snorts in laughter. "Probably best considering how fast we'd get caught."

"You said it was the start of it?" She wants to lance the wound completely if she can.

~*~ MD ~*~

It's not something he really wants to relay to her. It's easier to leave Jazz's conception as the same whitewashed story of trying to work things out and whoops, baby.

The reality is that Merle resisted all Lil's earlier offers for sex in the six weeks they were in contact. But the last night he ever saw Lilliana, she met him at the door dressed to entice and he just gave in. He was angry, knew she wanted security and not him, not their kids.

It was rough and close enough to pushing the lines of consent to make him sick to his stomach to remember it. Lil beneath him, just watching with those dark eyes as he chased a climax neither of them really wanted. He still remembers seeing her skin irritated by the fabric of his jeans rubbed against her thighs. He buttoned himself up, left the updated no-contact papers and the first payment toward making sure she stayed away, and spent the rest of the night too drunk to remember his own name.

Detailing the earlier issue with his PTSD, he didn't mind. He knows, looking back, that their sex life was never normal in the truest sense, not with Lil's careful scheduling as if regular sex was part of a checklist of a normal marriage someone scripted out. But it was good between them even if not particularly passionate. Even in those tough months after Iraq, the sex isn't exactly a bad memory.

Hell, during one of his worst spells, when he was in the kitchen barely holding it together after a fucking car backfired, she bundled him off to the laundry room. He'd sought forgetfulness within her soft warmth and found it, along with a quiet forgiveness as she kissed away his apology. He'd thanked her on his knees, making sure she at least enjoyed the after.

As many times as she dragged him off to that laundry room, he's pretty sure Honey was conceived on top of that fucking washing machine. Whatever once made her a good mother was broken by then and their marriage was dying, but he had loved her and she'd still loved him to the best of her ability to do so.

He's never told anyone about that night, letting everyone believe he was just stupid about his ex and led around by his dick. But he wants Carol to know, so the words come out in fits and starts and he can't watch her as he speaks.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol is about sure her heart's going to break as Merle speaks about his last night with Lilliana. He's ashamed, making himself small beside her in a way she didn't think possible with a man his size. All she can think is that she's glad she ripped this open tonight, because he doesn't deserve the shame he's carrying.

She takes the photo album and puts it safely on the nightstand before sliding into his lap and hugging him close for a moment. "She intended to have sex with you. She had a goal or at least a hope. I understand why you would never want him to know he was conceived when you were hurt and angry and his mother mercenary, but it wasn't something unforgivable." He doesn't look convinced. "If she had asked you to stop, would you have stopped?"

The look on his face tells her he would have, not that she needs to ask the question. He's horrified at the very thought. She's called a halt to sex twice when it went long enough for her to get too sore to enjoy it. Her 'I need to stop' is a bucket of ice water for the man.

She solved that issue after an uncomfortable talk with Lilly that ended with the advice neither of them were as young as they once were and a sample bag of lubricants that makes her wonder just which supply team slipped in an adult store on a run.

She cups his face between her hands and kisses him gently. The shameful look fades as she pulls away and he studies her.

"You were still in love with her then, weren't you?"

He nods. "Tried for years not to be."

"Then that's the only thing he ever needs to hear. You loved his mother and reconciliation didn't work out, but you still got a wonderful blessing out of the attempt."

She thinks there's a part of Merle that will always love his ex-wife even as much as he knows he shouldn't. There's too much evidence of his inability to move on, and she doesn't think it was all focus on his kids' happiness. And she understands.

Ed wasn't always a monster, and she's healed enough now to be able to remember loving the man he once was and not feel sick from it. She got Sophia from that time, before he changed.

"I love you."

She smiles and whispers it back to him repeatedly between small kisses until he's smiling beneath her lips and that haunted look is long gone.

Then she aims for distraction. "Did I see a tiny little Merle in that album?"

He mock groans but reaches for it and opens it up to introduce her to the dozen or so pictures he has of his mother and himself as a child.

Carol looks at the images of the too thin teenage girl and understands a little why none of her pictures are in the albums the family has access to. As she ages in the photos, the signs of her abused life aren't always hidden. But as few as he has of her, she also understands why he keeps them.

"She was a baby with a baby, but she loved me. She never finished school. Wasn't allowed to after her 'disgrace'. So, she taught herself instead, read every damn book she could at the library. He disappeared for weeks at a time, whoring around, and those were the happy times. We lived in this little shotgun house on the edge of town and she cleaned houses to make enough money to keep us going."

He looks through the photos and points one out that has the edge of a rickety porch in it and the tiny, narrow house in the background. From Merle's gap-toothed grin, he's maybe six, proudly next to a small bicycle with his mother.

"Sixth birthday. Her parents would always come round with a present as if it made up for the rest of the year of ignoring what her life was like."

"What was her name?"

"Ava Catherine."

"Daryl looks so much like her." She hesitates to say it because the implication that Merle looks like his father lurks in that, but he smiles.

"He does. Sweet like her too." There are no pictures of a baby Daryl in here, but there is one of Ava in a worn rocking chair, her belly round and heavy. He nudges the Polaroid.

"She had him at home. Will was on a raging drunk. Went after her with a broken bottle." He touches the jagged twist of scarring on his collarbone and she knows its source now. "She locked us in the bathroom and patched me up. She was too scared to leave when she went into labor."

"That must have been scary as hell."

"Yeah. And she wouldn't let me help her cos it wasn't proper I might see. Draped herself in towels and made me sit with my back to her. He was tiny, wasn't breathing at first. She gave him mouth to mouth, got him started, and it was like it never happened. After my father disappeared, I took her to the hospital. They checked out fine and the old man stayed gone for damn near a year cos he thought he'd cop charges for cutting me up."

Carol wonders how different life would have been for Ava Dixon if she'd taken her boys and run during that year. She was only thirty-two when she died. And she understands even better now why even out of his mind on grief and cocaine, Merle protected Sophia and Carol.

It's probably the absolutely worst time, and not a romantic story for anyone to know, but she moves the album to safety again and sits astride his lap. He arches a brow, curious about her intent.

"Marry me."

She wants that final step, the one he's told her he'll take the second she's sure. She wants the rest of her life with him, with the man who grew from that determined boy who put himself between his pregnant mother and a deadly weapon and who went on to recognize the same lost soul as his own forming in Carol's daughter.

Although their lovemaking doesn't usually involve a second round, he gives it an enthusiastic try. She's a puddle of aftershock pleasure when she feels him slide something on her ring finger. When her eyes finally focus, she sees an antique ring set with a ruby framed by tiny diamonds.

"Mama's family wasn't from the wrong side of the tracks. This was my great grandmother's ring, and that loveable harridan would adore that it skipped the daughter-in-law she feuded with to make its way to you."

"Guess that's a yes then," she teases.

He just smacks her bare ass playfully and then tucks them both in. "Love you, darlin'"

"Love you, too."

A/N: Age of consent in Georgia was 14 until 1995. Very much UGH.

Bottom of Form


	35. The Witching Hour

**November 13, 2010**

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane laughs as Scout snags Rick as he walks by their table. His brother startles but lets himself be pulled to a seat next to Scout.

"Shane? Your wife has me by the belt buckle."

"Could be by the balls, so count yourself lucky and do whatever it is she's caught you for." He smirks at Rick, who looks between him and the firm grip Scout has on his buckle.

"Meet your new neighbors," Scout finally says. "Abraham and Rosita are streetside and Eugene's next door."

When he offers a hand across the table, she finally turns him loose with a pat to his stomach. After he told Scout of his worries about Rick's loneliness, it's like she sent out a Dixon alert. The males are less obvious with their shoulder bumps and such, but Rick still looks a little panicky encountering the suddenly no-personal-space Dixon sisters.

"Rick and I were partners in the sheriff's department before." Translation for Abraham: there's a cop in your building.

Rosita is sitting between the two men and she looks curious. "So how long have the two of you been married?"

"Do we give the cutesy answer of how many days or be nice and say almost two months?" Scout asks.

He laughs. "I know damn well you'd hafta go count up the days."

Rick rolls his eyes. "They got married near the end of September."

"So, you knew each other before?"

"No. Met in a survivor camp outside Atlanta. She proceeded to tell me I was serving up a buffet with people living in tents."

"I did not!"

"Baby, you called my people burritos."

Scout looks to Rick, who grins and nods that she did, indeed, refer to the quarry campers as burritos.

"What these idiots are demonstrating is that first impressions can be overcome," Cricket says as she comes to a stop behind Rick. She reaches out and fluffs his curls. "Can give you a haircut tomorrow if you like."

Rick nods and she takes the seat beside him. Around them, about two-thirds of the tables are being folded up while people dash outside to bring in various more comfortable seats for the movie.

"I'm going to turn you loose, sergeant," Scout says. "I've seen enough today to understand you aren't going to be staging a repeat of yesterday's incident."

"No, ma'am, I have no such intentions."

Scout smiles, but is called away by Glenn to review a change for tomorrow's run before she can say more. She sheds her flannel and drops it in his lap on the way.

He knows from the looks on their faces that they've seen the burn scars with that tank top she's wearing.

"Napalm?" Abraham asks.

"IED in Afghanistan last year."

He can see the wheels turn and remembers some of the issues he's heard from Jamie and Scout both about female NCOs. Jamie put it best with, _"Men are trusted to be competent until they prove otherwise. Women, the opposite."_ He wonders which side of the line the Army sergeant falls on. He's old for his rank and Scout young for hers, and with his obvious alpha nature, it could brew problems.

Abraham is assessing her the same way Tim did, and the former sniper ended up one of her most loyal, so Shane's hoping it'll go the same way.

The man makes a power play against Scout, though, and they'll never find his body. Shane's 100% sure Carol will help him with that.

Cricket breaks the silence with a question. "Your trip started in Houston, right?"

Abraham looks away from Scout on the other side of the room to her sister. "Eugene and I, yes. We met up with Rosita and her people in Dallas."

"Did they bomb the cities there?"

Abraham shakes his head. "Can't say why they didn't."

She seems about to ask something else when she's called away and it clicks for Shane. It's harmless enough information. "Her birth mother lives in Corpus Christi."

Eugene frowns. "I am not sure I want to tell her there was footage of a refugee camp going under there. Hopefully, her mother didn't follow instructions to go there."

Shane agrees, glad Scout was away for the discussion.

"Are these movie nights common?" Rosita asks.

"Twice a week after supper, Saturday and Wednesday. Usually kid friendly. Fridays tend to be more of a music and dance night. Carol's big on offering social opportunities. But if it's not your thing, there's enough DVDs available to carry back to your own place."

He turns to yell at Brady, who's getting the projection equipment set up. "What's tonight's movie?" He's bad about keeping up since he and Scout don't always stay.

"_Up_."

"Oooh, Squirrel!" Honey cries out as she plops down beside him in Scout's empty seat. Rick looks relieved, considering last movie night she perched on his knee and swore she was watching the movie from there. She actually did make it ten minutes in before she grinned and wandered off.

"You are a fan of Dug?" Eugene asks.

Shane mutters, "More like she _is_ Dug," which earns him an elbow to the gut followed by a grin and a couple of phrases in Chamorro that cause him to raise an eyebrow.

She sighs. "You _would_ learn the profanity first."

Eugene and Rosita both look curious, but Rosita speaks. "You were teaching Eugene last night. What language is that?"

"Chamorro. My birth mother was from Guam. Carol's my stepmom. Unofficially, but we all figure if Daddy's ever stupid enough to let her go free, we're keeping custody of her anyway."

"Your father's a former Marine, isn't he?" Abraham asks.

"Yeah. How'd you guess?"

"Guam is a good clue. Figured if he was Navy, your sister probably would be a sailor, not a Marine."

"You have a lot of military here?" Abraham asks Shane.

"A bit. Scout and her two Marines were still active duty, although she was still on medical. We snagged up a group of stray Guardsmen a while back. Got several former military of all branches, and more cops than a place this size will ever need."

"How did so many officers survive? We didn't see that happen in Texas," Rosita notes.

"The bulk of them were overseeing a hospital evacuation when everything went down and the city was bombed, so they closed the place up with their remaining people and held fast until we came across them and got them out of the hot zone. Eight Atlanta cops, although two have more or less retired as far as they can and don't do the supply runs like the others. The lieutenant of the Guard group was already discharged when he reported in to help and wasn't interested in keeping his rank around. He's one of the school teachers here. Other former cops are me, Rick, Tara, and Bryce, both of which were part of the group that brought you in. Quinton, Daryl, Elias, and Ryan were all game wardens." Even if Georgia deemed its men 'conservation rangers', Shane knows most states call them game wardens to distinguish law enforcement from the educational guides in the state parks. "Rachel and Tim were U.S. marshals. Think he might be your only other Army here. Former Ranger."

"We met him yesterday. His little blinds on top of the trailers are intriguing," Eugene says. "Who came up with a design that's so well camouflaged?"

"He worked that out with me," Honey says. Shane knows she enjoys the startled looks. "He came up with the design and I made the modifications."

"Honey's hell on wheels with a welding torch," Shane adds. "Or anything that needs to be built. Or shot." Honey giggles. "Eugene, we've got a few firearms instructors around once you're clear to train. Honey can probably get you started even one handed." The man would probably find Honey easier to begin learning from, unless he's the type that thinks an instructor needs to look like Shane or Tim.

She nods. "I'll get Jazz to demonstrate anything that needs full use of both hands."

"You are a firearms instructor?" Eugene asks. Shane knows he sees what most do - the bubbly teenager - which probably supersedes the fact that he was led around the property by her while fully armed today.

"I was an apprentice shooting instructor, before, for firearms. Certified for archery."

"Currently training with a damned Ranger sniper," Shane adds.

Scout's back and taps her sister on the shoulder. "If you want to skip the movie, Edwards says he's willing to redo your arm tonight. Glenn scored a bunch of that thermoplastic stuff like you had for your arm last time, and he's worked with it before."

"Awesome. This thing weighs a ton." Honey tugs at the sling she's got the end of her cast in. "And showering's a bitch." She glances at the grumpy doctor waiting and bids them goodbye.

Abraham watches her go for a minute. "She is awfully cheerful, considering."

"I've seen her singing Disney songs while covered in walker muck. There's not much that shakes her." In fact, the only time he's seen Honey lose her equilibrium were over Merle on that rooftop and then her rejected crush.

"Is she really training with the sniper?"

"He's trained a few of the women. Says their patience and technique is better," Shane answers. It's part of why they feel safe letting Glenn run such a small two-team group. Sasha, Maggie, and Jacqui are outright terrifying with a rifle and pretty good with their handguns too. While they still prefer the air rifles or bows to keep noise down, no team goes out without the big firepower available either, not after the non-walker encounters they've had.

"The Soviets used female snipers in World War Two. They were the only country who allowed women in combat at that level, and of more than two thousand snipers in the field, only five hundred survived." Eugene's listing of facts doesn't surprise Shane. "The most prominent had over 300 kills and was termed Lady Death."

The movie starts at last, and in the usual odd juxtaposition of their world, they go from talking about snipers to a Disney cartoon.

~*~ TC ~*~

Tara watches as Cricket finishes making notes at the desk, used to her partner's nightly ritual to prepare for the next day by now. She got to where she was before the apocalypse by such habits, getting her bachelor's degree in three years and surviving a year of medical school. It makes her heart ache a little to know she probably never would have met Chris in the world before, despite living less than three hours apart for more than a decade. She tidies up the desk and pauses as she puts away the baby book they worked on earlier in the top drawer.

The former rookie cop knows what's in that drawer - letters from Chris's mother, not just the three years of correspondence between them, but sealed envelopes for each member of the family Lilliana Dixon walked away from. "You ever going to give any of those away, Chrissy?" she asks softly. They're a constant source of contemplation for her lover.

"None of them are ready for those yet."

"You don't know what they say." She knows there's no way in hell Chris peeked, something Tara never would have been able to resist.

"I don't have to know that to know they aren't ready. Honey, maybe, but giving her one means they all know they exist. Daryl's just now starting to live again. I can't mess that up, not for her. I may have made my own peace with her, but I don't owe her anything that would hurt my family." She sighs and closes the drawer and goes to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

Tara looks to the baby monitor, glad that cost is no object when supply runners can just empty out a store. The video monitor shows their little son asleep, legs scrunched under him and diapered butt in the air like always. He's unlikely to wake until the godawful early time of five a.m., but since she usually rises then for her morning run and PT, it gives her a little one-on-one time with Christian. She never considered herself the motherly type, and she certainly doesn't have that ache Chris seems to have to actually give birth to her own child, but somewhere on that trip back with the sickly baby she saved, she fell in love with the boy before Chris ever saw him.

Chris flips off the desk lamp on her way by, but not before she catches Tara's interested gaze. It's not that the other woman is even wearing anything tantalizing, just a Spiderman T-shirt that does little to cover the red boy shorts that hug her lean curves. Tara's not exactly short, and at 5'8" is often taller than most women she's around, but Chris is an inch shy of six foot and so much of that height is in her well-toned legs. The dim nightlight they installed to make getting to Christian easier highlights her as she comes to bed.

"I know that look."

"The one that says that shirt would look so much better on the floor than on you?"

"Yeah." Her voice is husky and Tara knows that's where the shirt's going before it even happens. Chris's easy confidence in her own sexuality is what drew her to the med student in the first place. After Sam, who fiddled around with their relationship out of curiosity and never quite committed to even saying she was bisexual, it makes her feel safe. If this between them ever fails, it won't be because Chris suddenly changes her mind about liking women.

She gets her own night shirt off just in time for Chris to kiss her, one hand going to cup one of her small breasts and grinning as Chris arches against the touch. Despite sharing a sleeping bag on the road, they never actually had sex until their first night here, in their apartment, and she is still as amazed by her lover's lean, athletic form as she was then. She's in good shape herself, even better from months of running and PT here, but Chris's build is from years of athletic training, and she doesn't really have the curves Tara has.

The dim nightlight doesn't provide enough light for color, but she's memorized the blue of Chris's eyes enough to know what the pale rims around her pupils are as she kisses her way down Tara's body. When her thighs are shifted and Chris is putting teeth and tongue and lips to the single-minded task of driving Tara insane, she tangles her fingers in dark hair and cries out, "don't stop, Chrissy, god don't." By the time Chris slides two fingers inside her and hooks them just right, Tara's a writhing mess as she climaxes, riding her lover's hand in aftershocks even as Chris trails back up her body to kiss her hungrily, rocking herself against Tara.

As soon as she's able to form a coherent thought again, she urges Chris up to straddle her shoulders, and the sight of her small breasts bouncing as she rocks through Tara's attentions to orgasm are enough to make Tara want her all over again. The stitches in her eyebrow pull a bit, but it's so damn worth it.

But they've both got an early morning and Chris has a work shift that is going to involve physicals for the newcomers, so Tara puts it aside in favor of lingering kisses as they pull night shirts and panties back on. It doesn't take Chris long to fall asleep, long acclimatized to early rising and thus early bedtimes.

She lays there listening to her lover's quiet breathing and smiles to herself. Chris is her first lover, since Sam never committed beyond heavy petting, but she's not Chris's. Once she would have thought herself to be jealous of the women Chris dallied with during her clubbing days her first two years of college or to the woman Chris lived with for the last year of undergrad before transferring away to her own round of graduate school. But right now, with the glorious post-orgasm warmth carrying her off to sleep as well, she's not going to complain of the source her lover's expertise.

~*~ SP ~*~

Sophia treads carefully down the carpeted stairs from the laundry room into the basement bunk room. She'll be grounded until she's twenty if she's caught down here at night, but she has to talk to Jazz now. She can make out the boys in their bunks, only four bunks occupied, with four bunks empty, now that Carl's been living in the new cabin with his mom and Uncle Daryl and Abby. Thankfully, Jazz has a lower bunk, and it's not in the cluster by the game room with the other three boys, because he and Carl were in the set of bunks closest to the stairs.

He's sound asleep, flat on his stomach with one arm draped over the side to the floor. The bunk isn't really meant for someone his size, and she keeps forgetting to ask why he hasn't moved back upstairs to his own room with the full-size bottom bunk. She reaches out to brush fingers carefully over his shoulder and his eyes open sleepily.

"Sophia?" he sounds confused and drops his palm firmly to the floor to push up and look at her. "Why're you down here?"

"I needed to tell you something." She wants to sit on the bed, but she knows he'll pitch a fit about that, so she sits cross-legged on the floor beside his bunk. He frowns a little, but drops back to his chest on the bed, keeping his head tilted toward her.

"Couldn't wait til morning? Was out with Hershel til midnight."

"Did Pepper have her baby then?" Everyone's been wondering when the little female donkey from the rabbit farm would have her foal. Sophia's still impressed the poor thing has been pregnant for an entire _year_.

"Yeah. A girl. Hershel let me catch it because she was standing up." He's more alert now, the excitement of telling about the birth bringing him awake.

"Wow. I'm sorry I didn't stay." Well, mostly. After she did watch some of the ewes give birth in the last lambing, she thinks it's better he's the apprentice and not her. And she's maybe never having kids.

He smiles sleepily and takes her hand, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles as he yawns. "What did you need?"

Oh, yeah. "I was going to get something to drink, because Isabelle had a nightmare and woke us all up." He nods. Nightmares aren't uncommon for any of them, but for kids like Isabelle and Patrick, who were without any adult help for a period of time, they're worse. "Got to the stairs and saw Mama heading back toward her room from the kitchen. She's got a ring on, Jazz. You know. An engagement ring, I think. It's the right finger for it."

"Huh. Was wondering if Dad would ever get around to it."

Sophia giggles. "She might have proposed to him, you know."

"Yeah, probably." He laughs softly, then yawns again. "Really coulda waited til daylight though."

She huffs and swats his shoulder. "Alright. I'll go back before I get caught. Ain't like the other boys would tell I was down here, you know."

"Don't matter that they won't tell, Soph." He lets her hand go, but only to lever himself up a bit again and lean over to place a sleepy kiss on the corner of her mouth. "G'night."

She makes it to the stares before she covers the spot with a happy smile. They've kissed before, once a closed-mouth kiss she initiated while he panicked, and another he tried and asked if she minded that he thought it kind of weird. But for all that he thinks the innocent full-on-the-lips kisses are odd, he missed her cheek when she turned one day and something about the little kiss just at the edge of her lips always makes him smile.

She tiptoes down the hallway to the kitchen and then wishes she forgot about the need for a drink and used the garage stairs, because she steps into the kitchen to see Hershel standing there. The older man's gaze goes toward the hallway she has no excuse to be in and he clears his throat. So, she stumbles through an explanation, hoping he'll at least wait until morning to tell her parents.

In the end, he just sighs and makes her get her drink, then follows her up the stairs and watches from his own doorway to make sure she returns to her room.

Yeah, she's in trouble, but that doesn't override the excitement of why she went in the first place.

"You're too noisy," Beth complains from the top bunk. Isabelle's in the trundle bed, and Sophia's just glad she has the bottom bunk to herself after Honey got her own place. Isabelle kicks in her sleep. "Where'd you go?"

"Down to get a drink, but I saw something awesome."

The blonde rolls over the edge of the bed too look down at her. Sophia's glad she stopped being jealous of the girl, who is at least willing to giggle about boys with her despite the age difference. "What's that?"

"Mama's got an engagement ring on." No point in telling Beth she also got in trouble. That'll be news enough tomorrow.

"Seriously? That is awesome. Think they'll do another big wedding?"

"Doubt it. Mama wouldn't want all that fuss."

"Yeah, probably right." Beth rolls back into bed and then giggles a little. "Think it would be safe to make them breakfast and sneak it in tomorrow?"

"Maybe. But we'll be _real_ sure to knock first."

They both giggle sleepily at that, and Sophia falls asleep smiling.

~*~ TG ~*~

Tim feels the movement on the bed and rolls to look at the clock. It's just after one a.m. and he knows what woke him even before he sees Honey tying up her boots. The new cast doesn't slow her down as much, the lightweight material as much a splint as a cast.

"You do know you're welcome to stay the night." She never has in the three other times she's come home with him in the past couple of weeks. He's under no illusion that this is anything other than scratching a mutual itch while she works through whatever heartbreak she's nursing, but telling her she should stay the night is the respectful thing to do.

"Lydia will worry if I don't." She leans over and kisses him, which almost leads to enough interest for her to stay a while longer, but she looks at the clock regretfully. "You got a breakfast shift in the morning."

Tomorrow's one of Carol's mandated off days for his team, not allowing teams to run more than four days a week unless it's urgent and always with one set of teams left at Homestead, but it isn't an off day because each team also fills in once a week to give other folks time off. Glenn and Tim are breakfast relief tomorrow, which he really doesn't mind, because it means that Tara and Maggie drew the laundry shift this week. But he's got year of shitty sleep schedules under his belt from the Army and then the Marshal Service, so running on the hour he's already slept plus a few more is nothing really.

He's actually a little surprised she fell asleep for the hour she did. He might not be her Mr. Right or really anyone's Mr. Right, but he doesn't give a shit about the eleven year age difference. She's done the equivalent of serving a tour out in the hellhole world, getting from Florida to the Homestead. Sex is always better than drinking to ease the nightmares he brought back from the desert, and he's fond of her damned determination to remain kind despite the shit the world keeps throwing at her. It doesn't hurt that he thinks she'll be an utterly terrifying sniper, if she ever has to use the skill on something more than walkers.

"Don't care, if you want to stay."

She shakes her head and gives him another kiss and heads for the door. His place is one of the tiny triplex units, no bath, no kitchen, just barely enough room for a full-size bed and nightstand, so it's not far for her to go. "Hey, Honey?"

She turns, door partly open. She's shadowed because the moon's still moving back to full, and on the porches, they don't get a lot of light from the street lighting without their outside light on.

"Not sure this is going to really help you forget him."

"Is that bothering you?"

"No. Just wanted to remind you so I'm not taking advantage of the situation."

She laughs, the sound barely audible. "I know you aren't that type of guy." She steps out onto the porch and turns back. He wishes he could see her face. "I'll stay tonight, maybe." And then she's gone, and he reaches out to pull on a pair of shorts to pad out to the porch despite the November cold, not really wanting her to walk even the short distance across to her building unobserved. She's armed, and damned capable as he knows as one of her trainers, but it's just habit by now.

She makes it a stroll too, as he walks down to the corner by Danny's place to make sure he can see. He doesn't think she's aware he always makes sure she gets at least back to her own porch okay. When he sees Augustus pop up out of the shadows where he was probably sleeping in front of Michonne's door in the unit below Honey's, he relaxes. She pauses at the top of her stairs, and he thinks maybe she's spotted him, but she's looking toward the next building before waving. He guesses the newbie in that place must still be up, either out on the porch or seen through the window, but since Honey doesn't pause to talk and heads inside, he waits to hear the click of her door in the quiet night air and then goes back inside where it's warm.

He flicks the TV on, setting it to play some stupid cartoon DVD on repeat now that he doesn't have the warmth and sounds of another person in his space to keep the darker times at bay. He sheds his shorts and after a moment of hesitation, reaches for the pillow that Honey slept on and tucks it to his chest. Her perfume adds to the reminders of where he is, and he falls back asleep surprisingly fast.

~*~ JD ~*~

Jazz is almost back asleep when Jimmy's voice comes out of the darkness. "You're kind of a dumbass, Dixon."

He rolls to his back so he can see where the older boy is leaning out of his bunk to look at him. He likes Jimmy, most days, but unlike Patrick, who might be older in years, but younger in personality, or Al, who's only thirteen, Jimmy's a bit of an asshole at times when it comes to girls and sex. Either the conversation with Sophia or Jimmy's words have woken the other two, because Al blinks sleepily from the bottom bunk under Jimmy's and Patrick just pulls the pillow over his head in the other top bunk.

"And you're a jackass, Lawrence. Just because you're sleeping with Ashley, doesn't mean everyone's only out for that." He knows what the dumbass comment is about, because Jimmy's used it before when he realized Jazz was interested in a younger girl. He's ignored the boy's musings about sex with the college aged girl, knowing from multiple sports locker rooms that some guys just have to fucking brag. And at least he's not talking about the fact that he slept with Beth and her daddy still doesn't know. Jazz had to get threatening to get him to shut up about that. He doesn't want to hear that about his friend, and he knows Patrick, at least, of the other boys was grateful. Beth's his friend, too.

"I just don't understand it. You could get laid multiple times if you just winked at half the older girls here."

"All you ever do is think with your dick." That comes from Al, who's sitting up and looking a little angry. Jazz wonders if Jimmy remembers the things Al saw at Grady. He doesn't think the older teenager remembers how it was when Al first came to stay, when all the horror show of the hospital came out in a rushed confession one night to Jazz and Carl, before Patrick came.

"You're too young to understand," Jimmy tells him.

"Ever think that maybe we all are?" Patrick says from under his pillow. "Jazz is barely fifteen. Were you getting laid at fifteen?"

"He was probably obsessed with it even then," Al says, getting up to drag his bedding over to the bunk across from Jazz instead of the one under Jimmy's. "It's probably contagious too. Gonna sleep over here." He rolls into the bunk and follows Patrick's example by stuffing the pillow over his head.

Jazz knows he could have moved back to his own room when his uncle completed the cabin and moved his little family out, but he normally likes the dorm style atmosphere of sharing with the other boys. He's always been the odd one out in his family, too young to remember Daryl sharing a room with him while he was still at home and that wouldn't have been the same anyway with a fifteen year gap between them. And Patrick and Al both still have nightmares they don't like to bother the adults with.

"Seriously, man, that new girl Edith thinks you're the prettiest guy she's ever seen. She'd be all over you, and she's got boobs to die for."

Jazz isn't blind, and Edith is the type of beautiful that has all the boys and some of the younger men gawking. And he isn't immune to wondering what sex would be like that doesn't involve his own left hand. But he likes Sophia too much to find out. Maybe it means three or four years until she's old enough he won't feel like the world's biggest pervert. Kissing's awkward enough that he's glad she listened when he told her it was weird, her wanting to French kiss like the others do. His dad didn't have to have the boundary talk with him for him to know he wasn't about to push any limits. If she thinks he's a little slow with the whole puberty thing, whatever.

Patrick fists the pillow harder over his head and Jazz is angry now, not just for himself, or the disrespect to Sophia just being disregarded as important to him because she's so young, but for the fact that Jimmy's a dipshit who won't shut up in front of the obviously distressed other boys. So, he gets to his feet and goes to the older boy's bunk and grabs him by the T-shirt. It shuts him up, just like it did when he had to have a _chat_ with him about sharing personal details about Beth. When he's sure he's got Jimmy's attention, he leans in and hisses low enough he hopes Patrick, especially, can't hear him.

"Did you forget why the men that caught Patrick's group were killed, dumbass?"

When Jimmy's blue eyes widen, he knows that yes, the other teenager did forget about the Claimers and what those men threatened to do to Chloe and the two teenage boys in their group. He mouths an apology and Jazz lets him go.

"Go talk to the twins or Troy or whoever you need to when you want to brag about Ashley or who's screwing who, Jimmy. Cos if you start this again with me, I'm gonna kick your ass." Jimmy nods and Jazz is almost back to his bed when another thought occurs. "And then I'm going to tell Patricia you need to sleep somewhere else and why." That makes the older boy look more worried than the threat of physical harm, and he rolls to face the wall.

Jazz retrieves his bedding off the floor and settles back down to try to sleep. Tomorrow's an off day for chores for him, but he knows Daryl's going to check out another of those deer farms to see what survived and he really wants to go along. He's about half asleep when he hears Patrick's quiet thank you and realizes that his words to Jimmy got heard anyway.

He wonders if anyone other than the boys in this room and Carl have ever talked to Patrick about the Claimers. He knows Al's talked to Carol and Patricia both, backing out of the room when he's come across the intense conversations to let the younger boy have the privacy and mothering of the two women.

Tired out of his mind, he reminds himself to ask his dad in the morning. After he verifies Sophia's right about that engagement ring, of course.

~*~ EP ~*~

Eugene watches the girl who got hurt defending him yesterday and served as tour guide today as she comes to the top of her stairs, which he can see from the little windows that face out toward what they all call their 'porches' here. She spots him as she makes the turn toward her door and doesn't seem disturbed by the fact that he's there. He returns her wave and smile and doesn't move away from the window until she gone inside. The big dog with her didn't follow, but instead plops down to stretch out in a massive heap of spotted fur in front of her door.

He is actually surprised to understand she's not as young as he first guessed, but he's a skilled enough liar himself to understand the scene they put on for his group yesterday. It worked, because while he's spent the last couple of weeks frantically sabotaging their journey where he safely can, they stumbled upon a safe haven like he envisioned Washington might be. Maybe it's not a government enclave, or even a huge one yet, but he's smart enough to realize the potential.

Scout made no attempt to hide the military stockpile she's collected on their tour, and the longer he followed the two Dixon daughters around, the more he realized that the younger one is being trained to be just as skilled as her sister. They both remind him of Rosita in that potential for violent defense lurking under the surface, which makes sense, considering the Hispanic woman's ex-military. Homestead's as secure as any human settlement can be outside of a governmental bunker these days, and to be honest, he wouldn't want to live underground anyway.

He finishes shutting the slate colored curtains, the whole reason he was actually at the window. He's aware of his own inclinations toward voyeurism, which certainly got fed well and heavily with travelling with Abraham and Rosita. But there was no way he could have known Honey would be coming home back then. He wonders what that means about the slim man she left the community center with, the sniper who unnerves even brash Abraham. It was that exit that prompted Scout to mention her sister's age, because she caught Rosita's concern at the teenager wandering off with a hand crammed in the older man's back pocket. Maybe he's like most good-looking guys and doesn't realize he's lucky that a woman actually wants him to touch her.

He pushes away the thought to focus instead on his own little pocket of privacy. He'll miss the thrill of getting flashes of Rosita's bare skin as Abraham fucks her enthusiastically, but for the first time in months he has his own space and he won't have to scramble out of the comfortable bed to run from cannibalistic monsters before morning. He moves around the small space, opening and closing cabinet doors to see the things issued from stores neatly put away. He's not sure how much he'll cook in the tiny kitchen, but he likes having the _option_. The bathroom's a miracle itself, and he's almost tempted to take another shower after being assured water's plentiful and that the storage containers are well insulated and don't carry sound to the neighbors unless you just really bang on a wall.

That's actually what woke him. It's barely audible, and he probably only really 'hears' because he's so familiar with their noises, but he shares a wall with Abraham and Rosita, who apparently needed a midnight christening of their new bed. The thumps of the bed against the outer wall, if theirs is set up like his, were almost indistinct, but the thump against his wall, probably the couple rolling in their bed, was pretty clear. It's a little reassuring, that that part of his life isn't entirely gone.

He looks to the small table that holds a stack of books he selected from stores. Carol smiled kindly and told him they were building a formal library of sorts, but in order to do that, they keep ending up with copies, and those are fair game for personal ownership. He makes a note on the little notepad he was given about the library. It's something he might help with.

It's too quiet to sleep, and despite the painkillers he was issued and did take, his face aches. He's used to the sounds of a city around him, or later, at least the sounds of other people in his space. So, he reaches for a book and remembers Honey dropping it into his stack with a quip that it's a loaner and proof she wasn't messing with him last night. He has to laugh a little when he sees it's a textbook on Chamorro and carries it to the bed to read.

~*~ AF ~*~

Abraham opens the door just enough to let smoke trail outside. He prefers cigars to cigarettes, but one of the areas they aren't as accommodating on here is vices that might impact health. Smoking isn't forbidden, but they don't stock anything for free issue like the furnishings, clothes, and basic items for the kitchen fridge and cabinets. If he wants actual cigars, he'll either have to join a supply team or make a bargain with someone to bring some back. One of the Guardsmen had pity on him and gave him a couple packs of Marlboros, so he's set for a little while. Alcohol is better available, but he's on probation here even if no one puts it that way. He'll keep a clear head for now.

But since two rounds of fucking Rosita didn't exhaust him enough to sleep, he's left with the pack of cigarettes and brooding on the tiny loveseat near the cracked door.

He's always had a temper, but yesterday was the first time he ever hurt someone who didn't ask for it first. Even the lighter cast on that girl's arm and her absolution of him doesn't erase the fact that he slung her hard enough she broke her goddamned arm when it hit one of the support struts of the cafeteria seating. The other woman, the one with the baby, looks like she lost a fight with Muhammad Ali. He understands Rosita jumping in. She cares for Eugene despite finding out he's a goddamn fraud. But he remembers enough through the haze of rage and grief to know the other two didn't hesitate to intervene either.

A large part of him wishes that lady marshal shot him like she threatened.

He hadn't struggled at all when the girl's father and brother-in-law put him into that wall and read him the riot act. All things considered, he got off light, although he knows the big deputy nailed him with something hard, probably not police gear, in the kidneys, and he's surprised all Merle landed was a single warning blow. Even after a day spent with the woman in charge of his fate here, he still doesn't quite understand the Dixon dynamic. There's a story there, to their reason for giving him a second chance.

He finishes the cigarette and watches Rosita instead. She's naked under the blankets, probably cold with him having the door open, so he nudges it shut. She's given him as much reason to keep going as Eugene's false mission did, but now that they're somewhere reasonably safe, he wonders if he should be truthful with her. She's told him she loves him. He knows he harbors no such feelings for her at all, and he doesn't see that changing. Fucking her is one thing. Moving on from Ellen? That's not going to happen anytime soon.

A better man would break it off. He's seen enough of the atmosphere here tonight to know casual sex happens, even if there are also dedicated couples like the Marine and her husband or Merle and Carol. It's not like he'll go celibate if he ends things.

He signs and returns to the bed, and when she rouses sleepily and kisses him, he decides he'll work on being a better man tomorrow and slides back between her willing thighs.


	36. Capacity for Survival

A/N: There's some heavy details of the attack suffered by Daryl & Scout as children as far as injuries and recovery in this chapter.

**November 22, 2010**

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol drops the empty office boxes in front of the big file cabinet. Merle's going to move it to her office, but first, it needs to be emptied of years' worth of personal and business legal papers that are now effectively obsolete. He said she could throw them out, but it feels wrong, so she's going to store them in the attic instead.

The first two drawers are all a miscellaneous history of Blackbird Construction. The name makes her smile, wondering how many people got the name in connection to Merle's own. She tapes the two boxes closed and labels them.

The third drawer is all paperwork related to the kids' daily lives, neatly labeled. She wonders if he's ever misplaced so much as a progress report since he became their sole parent. She's knows artwork and more personal items are already stored, but these will go with them.

The last drawer she hopes is just a sign of how much Merle trusts her, or maybe needs her between him and the memories it can evoke.

She tucks away the divorce papers and the amended custody paperwork, including copies of the succinct yearly reports Lilliana was sent about the children while they were underage. It's a checkered history of his determination to keep his kids from someone he's afraid will hurt them. It does provoke one question, though. She knows Blackbird was wildly successful in the last seven years, and he worked in a well-paid field before that, but the payments to his ex-wife are substantial even in the early days.

The answer comes in the next folder she packs away.

The little boy who grew up so poor alongside his teenage mother that he didn't even have his own bedroom in that little shotgun house inherited his mother's family's entire estate.

She pulls the personal letter from Hannah Austell to her oldest great grandson out of the legal paperwork. That can be stored, but the sweet words of an apologetic grandmother should stay somewhere more personal. Maybe there's something to the concept of karma, because the stubborn old lady outlived her husband, son, and grandson to pass on everything Merle - and Daryl - were denied when Ava Austell 'shamed' her father by taking up with Will Dixon.

He sold off everything except the investments and used the money to start his company, to raise his kids in a comfortable life far removed from his own, and set up trusts for each kid that make her realize that Cricket would have been a rare debt-free doctor after medical school. And he paid for _years_ to keep Lilliana away.

She sighs as she tucks that one into the storage box and turns to the ones she truly dreads. The state of Georgia's error in setting Will Dixon free too early ended in a settlement to cover medical and therapy expenses for his two young victims. She doesn't think it's enough for what she's seeing in the images in the settlement files. Part of her wants to hide the folders away. Another needs to bear witness to what the psychopath did to harm two people she dearly loves.

When she's done, she tucks those folders away too and puts enough box tape on that box to need a welding torch to get in. Maybe Merle was right that this one should be destroyed.

Then she locks herself in the office to cry for those two terrified children whose ghosts still live on in Daryl and Scout. Will Dixon died too easy a death.

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle relaxes into the deck chair, his feet up on the rail. Like most November days, the temperature feels nice outside, although that will change rapidly as night falls. Shane's at the table too, although he's sitting more upright and nursing a glass of Maker's Mark. They're watching the remainder of the Dixon clan, sans Carol and Lori in the kitchen, chase after escaped lambs in the distance.

"Sure you don't want to go help?" he teases.

Shane snorts. "Hell no."

He turns when he hears the kitchen door open. Carol and Lori step out, but oddly enough are holding hands as if one or both needs support.

His feet hit the deck and Shane turns too. "Everything okay?"

"Just... needed to ask you something."

They both sit and Carol reaches out to take Merle's hand. "I cleaned out the file cabinet in your office today." He nods, aware that she was going to. "I looked at things to sort what to keep and what not to."

And now he knows why she was quiet at supper. "You saw the case files for compensation from the state."

She nods. "I didn't read them all, but the photos..." He sees tears well up in her eyes.

Lori looks stricken, and he hopes like hell it's sympathy and not that she saw them too. "I've been meaning to ask you about it," she says softly, "because Daryl's said some things here and there and there's the scar." She runs her fingers over the spot in her head where Daryl's worst scar is.

"Nowadays they call it traumatic brain injury," he begins, voice hoarser than he likes. "Based on the pattern of the skull fracture, they're pretty sure Will kicked him in the head while on the floor, and neither he nor Scout remember most of the attack, thank fuck."

"He was twelve, right?" Lori says shakily. Shane's quiet, just watching, and Merle wonders how much Scout's opened up to him.

"Yeah. Scout was nine." He sighs. "They did surgery on them both, but Daryl's was the worst. Had to remove skull fragments and a blood clot that nearly killed him all on its own. They kept him in a medically induced coma for a week. He had to relearn how to walk and his fine motor skills were shot to hell for about two years. Had seizures for about that long too. Maybe the only saving grace of him being a kid was a doctor told me they think it's why he recovered fully since the brain's even more adaptable.

"They told me he could have mood swings, be angry, depressed, anxious, you name it. Remember telling the hospital shrink, 'no fucking kidding.' He settled most on anxious. Had to know where the girls were all the time. School district made accommodations for them to learn at home, even let Cricket. Was the school counselor and not the damned expensive bitch y'all heard about during the fight that was the most help. She suggested Guam, because Daryl associated that with safety from Will Dixon. Didn't matter that he was dead now to Daryl's mind. He didn't watch him die like Scout did.

"When he was tiny, I told him we were getting on a plane to go far away to a special place Will could never find. Didn't think he remembered it, since he was only two, but the counselor thinks it settled into his psyche because he was safe and pampered there. She also thought his issues were compounded because each time Will became his nightmare, he lost his mother."

He glances out to the pasture areas, where for some reason catching lambs has devolved a mass wrestling match. The carefree looks of it makes the darkness recede a little.

"He struggled in school for years until they let him take his GED. Something about classes at the community college worked better for him."

"It's why the other kids have all the athletics and activities and he doesn't, right?" Carol asks.

"Yeah. By the time he was fifteen or so, he probably could have, but he didn't have the grades to be allowed. Ironic that he ended up with his first college degree by eighteen. He took that environmental tech degree and went to work for the state. I was both shocked as shit and not when he came and told me he was going to the DNR Academy. Thought he gave up on wanting to be a cop, but it made sense he took that route."

"Less exposure to the day-to-day shit like domestics," Shane comments. "Might be a lot more exposure to drunks though, working the lakes, especially. Assholes always think DUI don't apply on a boat."

Merle laughs. "Sounds just like his favorite bitch about the job."

Carol's not part of the brief levity, and he understands. Those images are fresh in her mind, which is evident when she speaks. "The head injury isn't all of it."

"No, but it was the worst, and I think it overshadowed his other injuries enough he never even thinks about the rest. He got his ribs broken a few years back in a tussle with a poacher and actually said something about he was glad it never happened before."

"The report said he had seven broken ribs."

"Yeah. Plus a broken collarbone, broken cheekbone, broken arm, and damage to his liver and kidneys."

"He was trying to kill him," Lori says softly and Merle meets her gaze evenly.

"The one thing Scout did seem to remember was Will screaming he was gonna finish the job he started. He probably would have if he hadn't lost a fight with his own body and a nine-year-old girl. He broke her leg bad enough she needed surgery to fix it, along with ribs and jaw. They didn't really even question her because of that last one."

"He thinks she saved his life."

"They don't know how much of Will's injuries were from Daryl and how much from Scout, other than they can confirm she hit him in the head hard enough with an aluminum baseball bat that he had a skull fracture of his own. Her bloody fingerprints were the only ones on the bat. Daryl's hands show signs he fought as hard a hundred-pound kid can against a grown man.'

"Defending the girls he hid away. Cricket said Scout thought Daryl was dead," Lori says softly.

Shane makes the connection. "She wasn't trying to defend Daryl. She was trying to kill Will."

Merle nods. He can still remember the absolute fury in Scout's eyes. "Her broken leg showed signs she was upright, probably worsened it herself."

"He died of a stroke, officially?" Shane asks.

The 'officially' makes him remember what one of the responding officers told him. It hadn't mattered what the outcome of the autopsy was, Will Dixon's cause of death would not implicate his traumatized daughter. The cops were livid a violent murderer was free after only ten years in prison.

"Officially, he aspirated on his own vomit following a stroke. Far as I know, it's even the truth, because Scout's recount of after is that she waited til he stopped breathing after he started vomiting before getting her sisters and going for help."

He lets them decide on their own about that stroke versus the man's close contact with a baseball bat.

"I don't think I'll ever know how Josefa, her grandma, worked her back from being a ball of constant fury to the control she has now. Woman survived the Japanese occupation of the island as a kid, so I suppose she had some expertise in trauma the shrinks lacked."

"Daryl says the carver he worked with told him stories about the occupation. Says he felt if the old man could survive all that, he could get better too."

"Sounds about right. I thought it a little crazy, putting a knife in the hand of a kid with seizures, but it did him a world of good. With Scout, Josefa talked and her grandfather, Robert, taught her to run. They ran all over that damn island."

And none of them ever batted an eye about the fact that Scout couldn't sleep unless it was in the same room with Daryl. He thinks these three would understand, but he's never forgotten the pain Carrie caused his brother by implying there was something incestuous about the fact that Scout shared a room with Daryl until they moved to this place when she was fifteen. He'd look in on them where they kept the heads of their twin beds pushed together. Daryl would sleep on his stomach, and Scout would have one hand gripped around his arm at the elbow, fingers on his pulse. In the earliest days, she'd count softly to fall asleep.

It stopped when Jazz arrived, but probably because the baby spent his first year sleeping in a crib between twin beds in their room. Merle relocated the family here after someone made it obvious they still lived a little close to where the less savory Dixon reputation remained. The three years here, in the original house, are the only ones in her entire life that Scout shared a room solely with her sisters.

An enlisted man's pay rarely stretched to three bedroom rental prices easily. They weren't even eligible for a three bedroom on base until after Daryl turned six, which wasn't until their second base after Guam. Keeping a bunk bed in Daryl's room even when he was separate was a necessity, because Scout usually preferred his company to her much younger sister. Daryl only lived with them here a little over a year, already over eighteen at the time.

He relays that, trusting none of them are the pervert Carrie was.

Shane actually smiles a little. "She still does that in her sleep. Wake up all the time with her fingers right here." He touches his inner elbow.

"Nurse at the hospital taught her that, because it can be done unobtrusively and works well on children."

"She touches a pulse points a lot," Lori says, looking thoughtful. "The people she loves. Ankles, knees, wrists, elbows. I don't think she consciously realizes she does it."

Merle knows what she's talking about. Last time they had a family movie night, Scout was using Shane as a backrest like she usually does, one hand around the back of his knee. The other reached out periodically to toy with baby Christian's foot - at the ankle - where the baby was in her sister's lap above them on the couch.

Carol's touching her own arm with a slight smile, putting two and two together about Scout taking her by the elbow when she wants to talk.

Merle turns and sees the lamb wranglers trekking back. "Carol? I'm not sure they left any mud down there."

She stands and giggles. "That's gotta be on purpose. There aren't any muddy areas deep enough to fall completely in."

He grins. "Go threaten to hose them down in the yard then."

"Merle, it's November!"

"It was over seventy today. They'll live."

She swats him and hurries off to guide them around - and to shower facilities that don't involve walking through living areas.

"You distracted her on purpose," Lori says and he nods.

"It's harder for her to see, but you two probably can. What happened to them? It was horrific and there are echoes even today. But it's a building block of who they are. Long as you can accept that, it's another thing that adds to the healing."

He stands to go after Carol, but stops with a hand to Lori's shoulder. "Keep taking care of him, Lori. You both deserve the happiness you have now."

He's not glad he had to relate the struggle, but he is glad the two people most important to Daryl and Scout are better informed now.

~*~ DD ~*~

Daryl grins at Scout where she's helping with the fencing that is going to enclose both their cabins so that Asskicker can roam free between her homes.

"You know we're going to have redo your place, right? And better before the baby than after." With no one else around, he doesn't bother with English.

They escaped Carol's herding folks to shower by lieu of still wanting to get in some work before dark. With supper not til seven, there's plenty of time to get half an hour on the fence and still shower even if they use work lights to get in another half hour.

The fence is panels, ones Merle deemed not quite what he wanted for exterior fences, but they're testing out using it for smaller scale security. It goes unsaid between them that if walkers ever get loose in Homestead, heavy duty fences around safe havens will save lives. There's no other reason for using the six foot fencing.

"Yeah. You volunteering to help?" She flashes him a grin as she shifts a panel into place, and he feels a familiar rush of relief to see her moving strong and casually after so many months of recovery.

"Considering how much you and Shane helped here, you really going to ask that?"

"You know what they say about assume..."

"You are an ass." Then seeing the smirk on her face, "don't you start talking about your ass, _sister_." He drops back to English to emphasize the familial word.

She laughs and is quiet until they've got another panel firmly in place. "Your guys from Thomson call us your siblings."

He shrugs. After the divorce, when he took the transfer his sympathetic boss offered, it just seemed like so much bullshit not to call it like it is. "Funny thing is, that is what my birth certificate implies you are."

She hums a little. "Makes sense with what you've been calling me since Atlanta."

"World ended. Fuck any ideas that says I'm something else than what I am. Who's gonna bitch anyway?"

She drops the tool she's using back into its spot on the belt, and it's not enough warning for him not to have to drop his to the ground in order to return the unexpected hug.

"I'm so sorry," she says, sounding young and plaintive.

He rubs her back, puzzled as hell what she's apologizing for, so he asks.

"For taking the second enlistment instead of coming home."

"Was never mad about the second enlistment, so much as what you were doing with it. Couldn't even just come see you easy." Hell, if she'd been stateside when he realized he was truly losing Abby three years ago, he probably would have relocated to where she was. Instead he got her for two weeks between Cyprus and the Philippines. She was in the middle of MSG School for the divorce, with a flight straight from Virginia to Tanzania.

He leads them over to sit on the ground next to one of the completed fence panels. They lean against each other and he marvels a little at how childhood habits come back. Maybe it's the weeks spent helping her in San Antonio that brought it all back so easily.

"So fucking glad you weren't over there when this went down."

"I'm guessing they probably recalled most military before it got really bad. I can't see them risking leaving assets for other country to appropriate, and you know they knew how bad it was going long before the local governments did."

He smiles a little. "No telling who you would have dragged out of North Carolina with you. I'm kind of partial to the folks you did bring though."

"Like Lori?"

It isn't something they've discussed yet. The first time he told her, she kissed his cheek and teased him about being glad he didn't stick to the better off alone vow. Then she acted as if Lori's been his partner all along.

"Well, technically, I found her before you did.". He nudges her a little. "And him. Although could have gone without knowing exactly that they were up to in the woods."

She turns to him, eyes merry and attempts shock. "Are you saying you saw my husband naked?"

Daryl groans. "That makes it worse, not better."

She just laughs and reaches for his hand, bringing it to her cheek. She leans in to it, fingers pressed against his pulse. "I'm glad she makes you happy, but this time, I promise I will not be wandering off if things don't work and you need me."

"Can live with that." He thinks about how happy she is now, as if the darkness that has been a passenger for so long has disbursed. "If I knew you had a thing for cops, would have lured you home years ago with one of my buddies."

It's worth the smack. She snuggles close and sticks her cold nose to his collarbone. "Missed you all that time."

He just holds her close. The damn fence isn't urgent. "Missed you too."

He knows he shouldn't have such a clear memory from age three, but he does: Lilliana placing the newborn in his arms and whispering, "She is your treasure. Guard her and she will grow up to guard you too one day."

Scout was such a tiny baby that Merle quips she only topped five pounds because a nurse had her thumb on the scale. Her skin was still newborn pale enough that his sun browned skin actually looked darker. Even in his own small arms, she seemed like a wisp of thing, a scrap of magic stolen from one of the stories of fairies his first mama told him.

It doesn't matter that she's as tall as he is and probably could take him apart without much effort. Times like this, feeling her breath against the side of his neck in imitation of the baby she once was, he remembers that feeling of stolen magic and smiles.

~*~ LG ~*~

Lori tugs the quilt into place, wriggling to find a comfortable spot and thinks she might worship Jacqui and Glenn for bringing back a full body pregnancy pillow for each of the pregnant women.

But Asskicker has a new trick tonight. As Lori tries to settle, the baby hooks her foot into Lori's ribs and shoves outward. Her "ow, ow, dammit, ow" summons Daryl, who looks torn between sympathy and amusement at the distortion of her pregnant belly.

He does help her roll to her hands and knees, which dislodges Asskicker's position. Then he leans in to chastise the baby. "Karate's one thing, baby girl, but leave your mama's ribs where they are."

As if she's responding, the baby thumps right on cue. Daryl laughs and helps her settle back down, going to rub her back without any need for her to request it. "Next checkup's after Thanksgiving, right?"

"Yeah. Saturday, since both yours and Shane's teams are off." She's almost 27 weeks now, and Cricket is starting off the third trimester with an exam. "Every two weeks going forward."

He hums as he works and she drifts sleepily as strained muscles relax. It's a little amazing how much he seems to enjoy the massages, working from her back to her legs with skill he could have made a living from before the world ended. She asked him once where he learned, and the sad smile came along with the fact he learned as part of Scout's recovery.

"You and Scout okay?" she asks. Carl seemed pensive when he returned from his failed errand to remind them about supper.

"Just needed a little quiet time," he replies, settling behind her. His arm tucking around her belly brings the surgical scar on his forearm in her line of sight. She's seen it many times, but tonight it is almost too vivid a reminder of Merle's words. It's not just the injury, but the worry that tinged his voice as he told of the recovery period and Carrie's ugly implication.

"Merle told me today, about everything."

He doesn't even stiffen up. When he speaks, she realizes he's relieved. "Didn't want to have to talk about it, but it's good you know."

She reaches up to cup the back of his neck and he takes it for the request it is, kissing her tenderly. Rather than dwell on the awful parts, she asks about Guam. "What was your favorite part of living there?"

"Being outside. In the ocean, it didn't matter my legs didn't always cooperate. I could just float. Had to watch out for jellyfish and stone fish and such, but I might've lived on the beach if they let me. There's reefs that keep the current out, and the water is so damned blue and full of fish. Always wanted to take Abby one day."

"Sounds like she would have loved it too."

"Yeah. And my Nana would have loved her.". There's a wistfulness in his voice when he mentions his grandmother. "Carrie always said it was too long a plane ride when we were married. Probably right. So, the times I visited, they didn't go along."

"How long was it?"

"Depends on whether or not you wanted to fly through Korea or stay in the states. Couple hours to a western airport like Houston, then eight hours to Hawaii, eight more to Guam, thereabouts."

She can understand that counselor's idea now. To a little kid, all those plane rides definitely would seem like putting a lot of distance between him and his monster. She hadn't realized it was so far away, thinking more like trips to Hawaii a few of her luckier friends made.

"Tell me about your family there."

And she drowses as he describes his fierce half-Chinese grandmother, her laidback half-American husband, and the aunt that sounds like most people describe their mother. It's so different from what she imagined, even after getting over herself when she came here. So much tragedy he could be angry about, yet he's focused on the time he taught his baby cousin to build sandcastles and walked through the jungle with his grandfather.

She doesn't think she would have managed such faith in people, but with the benefit of his warmth around her and his voice lulling her to sleep, she's glad he's the survivor he is.

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane closes the door behind him and at the sight of Scout curled under the blankets on the bed, feels a tendril of worry take hold. Carl came back from a trip to remind the two missing family members they were missing supper with a request to bring something home.

He slides the container into the fridge and goes to kneel next to the bed. She stirs then, reaching out to cup his jaw. As her fingers press into his pulse, he remembers Merle's words from earlier and holds still to let her keep count. Normally, he doesn't hold still long enough for the full count, going for a kiss after a few heartbeats.

He can see in her eyes that she recognizes a change in his response.

"I need you."

He moves away, rocking back on his heels and beginning to tug away his clothes while she watches, eyes dark with a need to forget. When he pulls back the blankets, she's not naked after her shower as he expects, but wearing one of his shirts. He eases the well-worn Kings County shirt over her head.

Now he kisses her, sliding his own fingers against her pulse point and feeling her react with a moan he feels more as a vibration against his fingers than a sound against his lips. Despite her words, he doesn't rush, tasting her skin both pristine and scarred.

chapter gap due to rating

He rolls them to their sides. With a kiss on her shoulder, he asks what most people would have before sex, but he knows by now is better to wait with his wife. "What's wrong?"

She catches his free hand and brings it to rest along the bottom of her ribs. "Just reminded of my own selfishness and couldn't get out of the dark mood."

"Something happen with Daryl?"

"Not really. Just cleared the air a little. It reminded me how if that damned IED didn't send me stateside, there's no real telling where I would've been."

He hates that she suffered, but he's never going to regret meeting her. "You would've found a way home."

"Maybe. I was so selfish. My family needed me, my big brother needed me, and I just kept chasing the next promotion."

"Can't change the past, but you're doing a damned good job of looking after them now."

She giggles suddenly. "You traumatized Daryl you know."

"How's that?"

"Sex in the woods with a hunter on the roam, how naughty."

"Jesus Christ. Tell me he didn't."

"Oh yeah."

That's just not something he wants to think about, even if she finds it funny he got seen screwing with his ex by her own relative, so he goes to fetch a warm wash cloth. By the time he has them both ready for bed, she's drowsy instead of amused.

"Shane?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"If I go off kilter, forget what's important, you'll bring me back, right?"

He thinks of the little girl so fierce and vengeful, grown into a woman who rides the edge, and knows that just like himself, there's a darkness harbored within. He knows she's his conscience, and he's hers.

"Always."


	37. Thanksgiving, Part 1

**November 25, 2010**

~*~ GR ~*~

For the first time in a while, breakfast is solely quick-fix foods - oatmeal, muffins, and some egg/sausage mix that Glenn's fairly sure is from the freeze dried buckets they've stockpiled as they found them that just need hot water and no babysitting. He's not going to complain, since he knows everyone with any sort of skill has been working in the various kitchens on the property since yesterday to produce a feast that will probably put the wedding food to shame. Maggie hooks her leg around his almost as soon as he sits down and he still feels the thrill of that contact.

Breakfast tends more than any meal to be less family, more team or workmates, letting everyone wind up for the day ahead. Those without any strong team usually drift to their partners, like Rosita and Eugene eating with Abraham since he joined Jacqui's team after Bryce decided he was going to cycle over to the building crew for a while. While he knows Merle eventually wants Abraham on his crew, maybe even leading a second, separate construction crew, it's fallen to Glenn to make sure the big man knows the ropes on moving outside the walls. He works surprisingly well under Jacqui's direct leadership, and the other two women on the team seem to enjoy his addition to their numbers.

He has to laugh softly because they don't have a run today. Thanksgiving would fall on his teams' true off-duty day, but he doesn't mind. Even Scout's big conglomerate of teams is staying put today and only essential work crews are running - animals, farm, and food.

Tara plops down with a grin and the biggest bowl of oatmeal he thinks he's ever seen anyone eat. "Fun part about Thanksgiving is getting to raid cranberries for oatmeal," she announces. "Wonder if they could grow those here, because it's gonna suck when we run out of the dried ones and the canned sauce."

Maggie shakes her head. "Gets too hot here to do much with them, I think, even if we could find the bushes to get started with. It'll be raisins for us next Thanksgiving. Cherries might be close though, if you dried them."

"Do you have cherry orchards near here?" Rosita asks. "Like those apple orchards Carol had you raid?"

Those are actually a lot more fun than Glenn expected, rolling his team through the closer orchards. Abraham's first run had been to do the final picking at one of the farms up by Ellijay. Apples were certainly always going to be a big staple of the Homestead, as long as they could get teams out to pick during the harvest season.

"If we ever find one, we'll probably be pushing way up into the mountains," Maggie said. "I remember when my stepmom would go through the seed catalog, Dad would always tell her they wouldn't do well where we were in South Georgia. Kinda like cranberries - they need the cold and don't like the heat much. Might find trees here and there in people's gardens versus an orchard. The Eldridges would know best. Daddy raised cattle, so our food growing was just the personal garden really."

"They've planted everything we dragged back from the box stores and plant nurseries," Glenn says, remembering his orders to grab everything. "The greenhouses even have citrus trees, kiwi, and pomegranate."

"Can't say I understood being on a supply run team that I'd be grabbing fruit and plants as much as cans and boxes," Abraham muses. He's done with his breakfast, disposable bowls and spoon stacked and two empty muffin wrappers on top.

"Planning for the future, man. Gonna run out of canned goods one day and no more coming." Glenn shrugs. He doesn't mind, because it livens things up to not just always be loading up boxes, boxes, and more boxes.

"What's the weirdest farm thing you've brought back that wasn't for your zoo?" Rosita asks. She smirks at his grumpy look for the zoo comment.

"Earthworms. I never knew that people _farmed_ the things before, much less used them to help with compost."

"Vermicomposting. They have that underway here? I would be interested in how it compares to other types of composting." The Dixon encouragement of Eugene's odd collection of knowledge has the man bouncing around the property faster than some of the not-yet-apprenticed teenagers trying to find their niche. The fact that he's usually got Honey, still off building duty, tagging along seems to further settle his comfort level. The man's damned weird at times, but Glenn really can't criticize. His life before all this was a bit weird too.

"Ask Honey to take you down to the farm when Lenore's available. That woman will give you all the facts you need about farming and probably a bunch you never wanted to know."

Eugene nods and turns back to the textbook he has with him. He's eating more slowly than everyone else, reading as much as he eats, so the conversation continues around him of foods they're going to miss and foods they're glad will stick around. It's the staring off into space that finally gets everyone's attention, so much so that Jacqui reaches across the table to nudge his book and get his attention. "You okay?"

He startles and actually blushes a little. "I was thinking. There are hostile groups out there that might hear things over the radio, positions, hauls, and people, correct?"

Glenn nods. "Yeah. We try to be careful, but monitoring the channels we use is only good if someone's dumb enough to talk on them. People being on ham frequencies is less likely, so that's why we use it as well as the distance being better."

"Perhaps a language that's less common for the masses?" the man suggests. He tilts up the book he has with him, showing the cover of a Chamorro textbook. "It has a lot in common with Spanish, but this textbook doesn't indicate it to be a creole. The original base language is like nothing most denizens of Georgia would ever know. Enough people here are bilingual in other languages, so they're already wired to learn a third. So as long as the watch and the run teams all have at least one person, it would work as a code language."

"Like the Navajo code talkers?" Jacqui asks and Eugene nods.

"It's worth talking to Shane and Scout about it. He's been learning himself, so he'd have a good idea of the learning curve." Glenn mulls it over, exchanging a look with Maggie and Tara, who he knows has just started picking it up because Cricket uses both English and Chamorro with the baby. "We don't have anyone on our team, but I'm betting Tara and I could pick it up. And there might be others we could use as well, although I suspect with Cricket and I being the only Korean speakers, that's limited."

"How many languages does your partner speak?" Eugene asks Tara. "I know that Hannah only speaks three and calls herself the lazy linguist of her siblings." Eugene's insistence on calling Honey by her given name is another quirk that puzzles Glenn a little, but since Honey doesn't care, no one's asked him why.

"Five, if you count sign language. She grew up with English, Chamorro, and Spanish. Took sign language as her language credit for high school and then Korean in college. The joke about Honey being lazy is because she took classes in high school for a language she already spoke for an easy A. Pretty sure Merle's only got the three too."

"What about the others?" Rosita asks. "If three is lazy, and Cricket speaks five, I'm afraid of the rest."

"Scout's got seven. The usual three, French, Arabic, Turkish, and Pashtu. Jazz has four, sorta. He was taking Mandarin Chinese in high school. He still practices it with Honey's roommate, so she's not so homesick. Not sure on Daryl, but Jamie and Glynnis speak Chamorro and Spanish both."

"He knows four fluently," Honey says from behind Glenn, grinning when she startles him. "The usual three, as Tara calls them, plus French. He used to help Scout with her homework and learned it that way."

"The Chamorro makes sense, but how did everyone end up fluent in Spanish?" Rosita asks.

"Daryl and Scout had a Spanish-speaking babysitter when they were young and just soaked it up. The rest of us just learned because they liked to use it, I guess."

It makes sense to Glenn, more so than just being forced to learn something for high school credit. His Spanish class was picked as the easy option since he couldn't follow Honey's footsteps and use his native fluency in Korean. Most of his classmates struggled, coming to a new language in their mid-to-late teens, but it really was an easy class for him, although he let his fluency lapse badly once he was out of high school until he needed it again as a delivery driver. The sucky discovery then was that most high school Spanish is based on European Spanish, at least where he went to school.

She reaches over and steals one of Glenn's muffins and drapes an arm around his shoulders to wink at Maggie. "Why are we talking about languages this morning?"

"Eugene has an idea about using Chamorro as a code language for the radios."

"Huh. Kinda surprised no one's thought of that before." She drops her wrapper in Glenn's empty oatmeal bowl, keeping the muffin she's bitten into, and lets him go. "C'mon, Eugene. Let's go make our erstwhile security leaders work their brains this morning."

It's all the encouragement the other man needs. Rosita reaches out with a laugh and takes his bowl, giving him time to save his own muffin before he hurries off at Honey's side.

"Every time I see those two wandering around, I keep thinking they'd make a great plot for an odd couple type show," Maggie muses.

"Not sure I'd guess which one's Felix and which one's Oscar," Jacqui adds.

Glenn takes note that Abraham is not only quieter than usual, but disconnected from the conversation after his earlier comment about runs. He's not had any of the violent outbursts that characterized his first day, and if Merle didn't want him for a construction foreman, he'd suggest Scout and Shane give him his own team in a few weeks. He's a solid worker and an absolute menace the few times they've had to clear wandering walkers who moved in after the big team blew through.

Glenn glances over his shoulder to see what has his attention, if anything, and it's Abby, who ended up between Lori and Quinton's pregnant wife for breakfast, to her obvious delight. He wonders, not for the first time, who the big sergeant lost, and he suspects from his expression as he watches the blonde girl chatter, that there's a child among his losses.

He's debating if he should say something when Rosita startles Abraham back to awareness when she takes his bowls and bumps his arm. Abraham catches him looking, and he sees for a brief glimpse, the sort of grief he has no personal concept for. But the man looks away, attention toward the others, pretending nothing happened, so Glenn lets it be.

He thinks this is a wound that needs more experience than he has to offer.

Maggie catches his own distraction and nudges him, arching a brow. He shakes his head, but then leans in to softly say, "Can you ask your dad to maybe talk to Abraham?"

She looks toward the redhead and nods thoughtfully. He hopes that Hershel, who endured losing his wife and son to the disease, can offer insight Glenn can't.

~*~ MD ~*~

"Not supposed to be working today, mister, yet I find you out here staring at a half-built building."

Merle turns and smiles as Cricket makes her way to him where he's leaned on a saw horse, not truly seeing the scene in front of him. It's a school house, actually. He considered bringing in another portable from somewhere, but after hearing some of the women muse about the beauty of the old time school houses, he figured why the hell not. There's room for beauty among the usefulness of what they build.

So, the building before him looks like something out of a Laura Ingalls Wilder book, although it's not a true one room schoolhouse. The teachers will have the option to divide the room as class size needs or allows, and it does actually have a small shared office and storeroom space in the back. Below the building is something that certainly didn't exist in old school houses - a reinforced storm shelter.

They've got twenty-six kids between five and twelve now, and while he thinks the odds they'll get more declines with each passing month, being prepared is how they survive here. Andre and Christian will need school one day, and the four babies due soon will only be the first.

"You know me, sweetheart. I always think better around the smell of sawdust."

She slips arms around his waist, leaning into him. It's what he missed the most when his kids were missing, the random sweet hugs they all deliver as easily as they breathe.

"You need me for something?"

"Not really. Just left the community center and saw you leaned up out here." She tilts her head, studying the school house. "You gonna paint it red and give them a bell?"

He laughs. "Should I?"

"Might as well, although I'd personally prefer green or blue. Put a pretty fence around it and it'll be perfect for the kids."

"Carol's already got a run earmarked for next week to fetch playground and classroom equipment. I'm almost thinking I should have made it twice this size and put a daycare on one side."

"Maybe, but not really enough kids for a dedicated daycare yet. The casual system works for now. She sending them to the elementary school in town?"

He shakes his head. "We decided stripping too much in Conns Creek is a red flag. They noted a playground equipment place down in Canton that should have what we're looking for. Playground for the school, smaller stuff for the little kids to go over by the nursing home. Amuses the hell out of those old biddies to watch the kids play. Carol's so excited by the idea that she's going out on the run."

"That'll be an interesting experience for her."

"She's looking forward to it. Time gets away from you. Realized last night that Sophia's been out when she hasn't, going on the fishing runs with Daryl's teams."

"She ungrounded yet?"

Merle laughs. "Yeah, her mama finally had mercy last night and let up so she can go on tomorrow run with Daryl. Getting grounded off the runs was about the worst thing she could imagine."

"Best part of all those roommates on both sides, you don't really have to worry."

"Day I gotta worry about _that_ with your brother is the day the world's really gone round the bend. It's your sister that's going to worry me bald."

"She's just sowing her oats. You should probably be glad you weren't really around for mine or Scout's phases like that, although neither of us were nursing a bruised heart behind it."

"She talk to you much about what's going on in her head right now? I got no real objection to her taking up with Tim, even if she decided it was a long-term thing."

"She's still avoiding the subject. Not sure if it'll pass or she'll crash, but I'm sure glad you revised those upper level porches so both sides have access. She and T-Dog are awkward as hell without her having to trek by his door to go home when she does. Lydia says that's only about every other night."

"Just watching and waiting then." He tugs her up for a hug of his own. "All this worrying about your sister. How are you adjusting to surprise parenthood?"

"He's a really good baby, just like Jazz was. Other than this new habit of staring right at you and dropping toys and expecting them to be picked up. Then he reminds me more of you."

"You implying I'm ornery, baby girl?"

"With every fiber of my being, daddy." She giggles. "I hate that his mama died, especially the way she did, but hopefully there's some sort of afterlife and she knows he's still loved and cared for."

"Tara still good with it? I know the baby fever was more you than her. Awful early in a relationship for a baby."

"Yeah. She's still a little stunned sometimes about how happy she is with it, but it does help that he's so content and we have an army of help. Her sister and niece think they got Christmas early."

Merle thinks about how much time he spends with all the kids except Cricket, whose duties and studies keep her near the infirmary and rarely with time for the other work crews. "I do actually need to check on how some of the new fences are holding on the horse farm. Want to ride with me?"

"I haven't been on a horse since we got home."

"Best to remedy that before you forget how. Still got Moonshine. She's probably missed you." The buckskin mare's getting up there in age, enough so that Hershel hesitated to use her as a brood mare at first. But she's a healthy Morgan likely to throw a strong working foal from that Percheron frozen sire they chose, and none of her three prior offspring are on property. She's also the first horse he ever bought the kids, then a three-year-old filly who loved kids and hated trailers so much she couldn't be regularly transferred.

"You gonna ride Imbri then?"

"Damned horse would hunt me down offended if I rode any of the others." The black 17-hand Friesian/Percheron cross is a puppy in nature, but she decided Merle was her person and only hers when he adopted her and two others from a rescue society. He's been relying less on the Polaris or work trucks and more on the mare, even if she is two months in with a Clydesdale-cross foal. None of the future horses at Homestead were bred just for riding.

"I'll go tell Tara we're going out and grab some water bottles."

"Meet you at the barn." The only hard part of getting the two mares up from pasture is making the third mare stay put. With Hershel's horses here too, he's sent all but the three expectant mares to the old horse farm. Best thing about that expansion so soon is that it came with barns Merle didn't have to build. And when the pretty paint horse from the Eldridge farm dances prettily, he figures what the hell, she can go too.

It's a beautiful day for a ride and once his task done, he'll be better settled for the sheer mass of people sharing the holiday.

~*~ LG ~*~

Lori finds her rhythm as she trims, rinses, and slices her way through the bushel basket of brussels sprouts. Abby's still giving the task a disbelieving look, because she isn't yet convinced the vegetable is an edible one. The first harvest came in just in time for Thanksgiving, with Lenore arriving pink-cheeked from her chill morning in the field with Lori's prize.

It probably won't be the most popular dish today, but she's always had brussels sprouts at Thanksgiving, and the Eldridge children are certainly excited about them. The fact that thirteen-year-old Anne is assisting enthusiastically is keeping Abby's attention.

Their vegetable will be one of the last ones prepared, since she wants them fresh and tempting. They hit a motherload of still good prosciutto in one of the markets, so after she steams them in the big commercial steamer for a few minutes, they're going on the flat griddle en masse in the drippings from browning the prosciutto.

Although she has to admit this is the first time she's ever cooked twenty-five pounds of them at once.

"What all goes with these on the griddle?" Anne asks. The petite redhead, Lenore Eldridge's oldest child, looks like she's younger than Abby rather than two years older. But Lori's seen the girl shifting bushel baskets of vegetables that make her wince, so there's power in that tiny frame. "Mom usually does creamed ones."

"I used to as well, but I saw this recipe on TV and it actually gets Carl to eat brussels sprouts."

"See, Abby, if Carl will eat it, it'll be good."

Abby looks a little more lively in her task of mincing garlic with the little hand chopper, so Lori answers the original question. "Just garlic and onions while it's on the griddle, then mix it with the crisped prosciutto in the serving bowl."

"And we get to help with that part too?" Abby asks.

"Sure. It's a lot of sprouts, so extra hands will be good." Both girls are old enough to safely be near the griddle.

"There's Daddy."

Lori looks up to see Daryl carrying in a double stack of covered pans that he carries to the steam table and slides into place. It's getting closer to time for lunch, and more and more dishes are appearing like those. She's guessing his are Carol's, which is confirmed when the woman appears with two pie carriers on top of a casserole dish that Lori knows is a massive peach cobbler. Today's big meal is somewhere between a potluck and a cafeteria style meal, and Lori's looking forward to the variety.

He swings by the table, taking care that she pauses with her knife before he kisses her and Abby. "Need an extra set of hands? Can wash up and help. Carol and Patricia are done up at the house and Jazz ran everyone off while he's finishing up.

"Sure. You can dice up the prosciutto." The meat is in slices in a container, waiting on Lori to finish the sprouts to dice it since neither of the girls helping has the knife skills yet. He detours over to the kitchen hand station to wash up and comes back with a knife of his own.

"Glad we're using disposables tableware while we have 'em. Dish duty's still gonna be huge," he remarks. His work with the prosciutto is with the same precision he does any knife work, and Lori finds herself a little distracted watching his hands for a minute until a giggle and nudge from Abby brings her back on track.

"What did Carol make?" Anne asks.

"Glazed carrots in one pan, that mashed turnip and apple thing in the other. Plus pecan pie, sweet potato pie, and peach cobbler."

Lori looks to the long table beyond the steamer tables that is starting to run out of space as pies, cobblers, and desserts make their way in. Even the small container apartment ovens can just fit a pie, so dessert duty was shared out more than the rest.

"Did you make a pie?"

Abby answers before Lori can, actually excited about the pie, even though one of its ingredients is fairly new to her palette. "Strawberry rhubarb. It's gonna be yummy."

"Which one?"

"The blue pie pans in the front corner closest to the steam table," Lori answers. "There are two." The pie is actually Rick's favorite, and when Carl brought it up, Daryl encouraged her to make it. She has to admit he's probably right that his own favorite will overload the tables. It is pecan pie in Georgia, after all.

"What's Jazz bringing?" Lori asks. The boy was still assessing his purple binder yesterday when Lori called it a night, and with Carol's access to food stores, the indecision didn't matter much.

"He's waiting on it to come out of the oven, but it's a pasta lamb dish. Kinda like the moussaka from his birthday but with pasta. Got both ovens full and running while he preps those little hand pies everyone likes."

"Nothing sweet then?"

"He taught Beth and Carol how to make baklava earlier. There's like three trays of it on the table waiting to come down when Beth does." He smirks at her. "I may have snuck a couple of pieces away for later."

It's a new favorite for her. With Carl, she craved tart, sour foods, including a weird stage where Rick made three or four midnight runs for sour gummy worms and finally just started buying them ahead of time. With Asskicker, it's honey. Not just sweet foods, it _has_ to be honey. Luckily, it's something they have an indecently large supply of. She can't imagine if it was those damned gummy worms again. The forethought earns him a kiss, especially since she knows he and others will make sure she ends up with some at lunch today too.

"Every time I see Patricia, I'm glad we have ultrasound, because I'd swear she's having twins otherwise." Lori's words come as the older woman makes her way across the cafeteria toward the permanent table with the better chairs. Her fosterlings are following with dishes as well. Lori's most curious about the banana pudding, between the rehydrated freeze-dried bananas and the homemade vanilla wafers, it's bound to be different, but Patricia's a wiz with adapting recipes, so it's probably good.

Patricia's thinner frame, much like Lori's, carries the pregnancy prominently. She's got the healthy glow they use in all the old advertising, but looks like she should have given birth last week rather than six weeks from now. But it doesn't seem to phase her as she oversees her kids settling their contributions in the correct places. Her arrival makes Lori check the clock and now she's glad Daryl helped.

"Let's get this started. Griddle's clear."

Daryl helping is still a sweet addition to her routine. He's a decent enough cook himself, claiming he didn't want to live on frozen meals and takeout, enough so he's cooked for her a few times when they both wanted to dodge the hustle and bustle of the community meal. It's always included some sort of game he's taken while out on a run, but despite the fact that she never ate quail or grouse before, both were quite appetizing. Although if she's really honest with herself, the man could walk in with the much beleaguered tree rats again and she'd eat them just for the thrill of watching him move quietly around the small cabin kitchen.

The fact that he reserves his cooking nights for times the children are occupied elsewhere might have a lot to do with that.

Watching him work under her direction with his two young 'sous chefs' makes her regret it'll be hours before she can whisk him away home for privacy. So, when the sprouts are on the steam table and the girls dismissed to go have a little fun before lunch, she lures him out of the path of various bustling folks and kisses him til he's grinning silly and a passing Merle can't help but quip at them to "get a room".

"Having a good day then?" he asks softly.

"The best, so far."

His grin fades to the softer, crooked smile she adores. "I'll make it even better later, mamacita."

And with that unusually coy remark, he escapes, leaving her to go join Patricia and squirm a little in future anticipation.

~*~ EP ~*~

Eugene eyes the massive horse warily, wondering why he didn't escape faster when he realized Honey was going to offer to take the horses when Merle and Cricket came riding back into the main Homestead from their fence check. She's got the smaller two horses by the reins and leading her into the barn, expecting him to lead the behemoth along as well. As if the horse knows he's losing his mind a little, she headbutts him with that skull that makes him think some big dinosaur is in her bloodline. T-Rex maybe. But she's intent on making sure he follows the other horse and young woman into the barn, so he does, before she demonstrates the T-Rex suspicion is correct.

The horse needs little direction, going to a stall that he assumes is hers and waiting patiently for the slow-on-the-uptake human to open the door for her. Honey's in the next stall, already taking off the riding gear and chattering to the horse as if she understands every word. He sees that the third horse is unbridled and in her own stall, content to nose at the water available. That bit of inattention earns him a nibbled shirt from his own charge and he turns, thinking it shouldn't be rocket science to get her bridle off at least.

It's not until he hears Honey giggle a little that he admits it's not as easy as TV makes it out to be, but he's got it off the mare and she hasn't eaten him. The solid black animal is nearly as tall as he is at the shoulders, and he wonders just what breed she is.

"Give me a minute and I'll help with the saddle," his friend calls out. "It weighs a ton, custom made for her."

"You're sure she's a horse?" He has to admit she's beautiful, solid black and with intelligent eyes that are judging him quite a bit at the moment. She nuzzles at her feed bin and then huffs at him.

"Yeah. Just a really big one for a mare, but that's because she's half Percheron. Draft horse, kind of like the Clydesdales. If you go check that shelf by the tack room, there's some horse treats and probably a few apples left from what Beth brought up yesterday. She's not a nippy horse, so you can just put one flat on your hand and let her nibble it off your palm."

The idea is testing his resolve to not hide from new experiences. Compared to flesh-eating humans, an overly friendly horse should be easy, right?

So, he takes both an apple from the little basket and one of the treats from the Tupperware container, realizing they're homemade, some sort of oat and carrot mix by his best guess. The mare's watching him intently, but patiently, from her stall when he returns. He offers the smaller treat first, gathering up more courage than it ought to take to let the horse grab the snack.

"I did not expect it to tickle that much," he says in response. The mare just chews happily, flicking her tail.

"That's part of the fun. At least she's not slobbery, like some can be."

"What's her name?" She's nuzzling him now, apparently smart enough to know his concealed hand holds another treat of some kind.

"Mare Imbrium."

"Like the lava plain on the moon?" It does suit her.

"Sorta. It's from a book series, but the mare in the books is named after the moon feature. We call her Imbri."

"What about the other two?"

"This pretty lady is Moonshine. She was our first horse here, the one I learned to ride on when I was six. The little paint belongs to Lenore Eldridge's son. He's a bit horse mad, but young enough her name's actually Spinda, like the Pokémon." Honey finishes brushing the horse in her stall and comes to rescue him from the affections of the giant horse. "These are the only three up here in the main barn anymore, because they're all in-foal. Dad, Hershel, and the other farm-oriented types are planning for future transportation when fuel's scarce or gone."

"You have the biodiesel unit at the farm that you showed me." He even offered a couple ideas for improvement that Gage Eldridge made notes about and thanked him.

"True, but biodiesel's dependent on crop production we don't need to eat. I know they'll try to work acreage not under protection for that, but it's always a good idea to have multiple plans, right."

He moves to take the saddle from the horse now as she's ready for it, grimacing a bit as he realizes she got the saddle off the other horse without his help. He gets it on the saddle rack outside the stall and returns to watch as she brushes the horse. Even with her height, she looks dwarfed by the mare. She works quickly, keeping a running commentary to him or the horse, he isn't sure which. The brush seems a secondary part of the grooming, as she's using her hands as much as the brush on the dark coat, so he asks about it.

"It's more to check for injuries or strains and the brush is more brush out any tagalongs or dirt she's picked up. Gotta check her feet too." She lifts one of the mare's hooves, motioning for him to look. "Healthy here, shoes in good shape. No stones or debris. If there was, I'd use a hoof pick." The remaining three hooves check out similarly, and she steps out of the stall and does a wipe down of the tack outside the stalls.

"Are they going to stay in the barn?" He notices that none of the stall doors are closed, although neither of the other two seems interested in anything other than their water and hay.

"No, we'll take them down to pasture and turn them back out until nightfall. No sense in keeping them cooped up or having more to muck out than the morning critter crew has to."

"And they'll just follow you like puppies?"

"More or less. They like being out there, just like they like coming to the barn because they're going to get a bit of grain and maybe some treats." She goes into Moonshine's stall and guides the mare out. It's a signal to the other two, because the smaller horse follows almost immediately.

Imbri nudges him in the shoulder as if _she_ is taking him to the pasture. He figures it's wisest to follow and marvels at the easy walk of big animals down to the gate they wait patiently to be opened. All three trot out into the field with undisguised joy, Spinda even taking a roll in the grass, before trotting off to the pond. Honey latches the gate before curious poultry can escape.

"You wanna be worried about any of the critters, it's those geese to keep an eye on. They can be mean little bastards sometimes." She's smiling, so he's not sure how much worry he should actually have.

But perhaps his Alice in Wonderland approach is going to pay off. The experiences he's tried so far would have fallen under believing in impossible things before, but now, they're possible, and he's starting to feel like he might one day leave the coward behind who led Abraham and Rosita across multiple states.

"C'mon, Tex. We don't hurry, the really interesting stuff will be eaten."

At least friendship with Honey isn't an impossible thing.


	38. Thanksgiving, Part 2

**November 25, 2010**

~*~ SW ~*~

Although they declared it a PT free day, Shane isn't a bit surprised when Scout rolls out of bed at the indecently late (for her) hour of six. He rolls out of bed to follow and for the first time since they set a regular schedule, they're the only two running. He finds he likes the quiet pacing alongside each other, and he wonders if they met before the world ended, if they could have had mornings like this one.

It's an interesting daydream, picturing how she might slot into his old life. To be fair, he knows in reality, it would have been him slotting into hers, with her commitment to the Marines. But it's easier to picture her in his life, tolerating his often-shitty work schedule, going on runs together around the high school track. Maybe it's easier because she's actually been inside his little house back in King County, helping him pack away what memories he did want to keep. The cabin here was never her personal home in the same way.

He supposes this life's just as good in its own way. At least now there's no paperwork when he shoots a man no longer fit to live.

The circuit they run is well trodden by now, especially by the rule that everyone runs in pairs at minimum. It also gives them an easy perimeter check of the remote areas of the nightmare thicket (he still finds Honey's term for it suits better than anything else). There are game cams out here, but it's not as monitored due to the river itself combined with the thicket. If danger ever threatens, the odds are that it'll be from the direction of the Eldridge farm and dry land. It's part of why instead of putting another gate in the thicket and bridging the river to reach the horse farm addition, you have to go the long way around through the Eldridge property and skirt the riverbank that way.

Technically, it leaves a wedge of unfenced property between the main Homestead at the newest portion, shaped much like the Homestead acreage, but on the opposite side of the river. Shane suspects one day, they'll have that brought into safe hands too, but for now, no one wants the river bridged.

The entire perimeter is around a mile and a half, and they use that for the long run once a week. Today they're doing the 'shorter' route that doesn't encircle the upper twenty acres where all the housing is.

Their first circuit shows they aren't the only ones up early, because Jazz is headed down to the sheep pastures for morning milking with Patrick trailing along. The sheep aren't part of what the kids call "critter duty" since Jazz considers them his personal project, but the pairs rule applies, so one of his roommates always gets to tramp down with him if Sophia doesn't. The two boys make an odd pair visually, with Jazz the image of a tall, strong athlete and Patrick the image of every geeky sidekick Hollywood ever envisioned, but in personality, they're sweet kids and very similar.

Both boys wave as Scout and Shane pass, calling out greetings.

"When's the next lambing?" he asks Scout. He can never remember exactly, other than the fact that there are two separate flocks of ewes pregnant down here right now, and another flock nursing lambs still.

"Late January."

They're starting to reach the sheep paddocks and the usual greetings of friendly ewes. Out of habit, Shane scans for the guardian dogs. He doesn't see Lettie, the female, but it's likely because they've got a litter of pups only about two weeks old. Boomer, the male, moves from behind the flock to eye the runners with disinterest. Of all the dogs on the property, these two interact the least with people, but he sure as hell won't forget Boomer's echoing bark back in September when he came to 'fetch' help when an ewe had trouble lambing. Jazz lost the ewe in the end, but both lambs survived with their adoptive mothers.

"Ought to move an RV down here because you know Jazz at least is going to want to stay closer."

She makes a noise of agreement and he'll hopefully remember to suggest it to Merle and Hershel.

They finish the run in what's probably record time without pacing or checking on others and tumble into their shower. It's unlikely anyone will come looking for them with the holiday atmosphere, and he wonders if he could coax Scout into a morning spent in bed. Neither of them was asked to provide food for the community meal, although Shane makes a pitstop by the kitchen counter to tip ingredients from fridge to crockpot before following Scout into their shower. His addition to the family supper tonight should be a good one.

chapter gap due to rating

After, she's laying against him mostly asleep, a novelty for them when morning sex is a rare luxury.

"Love you," she mumbles before making an unexpected play to nip his right pec.

He yelps. "Love you too. What was that for?"

"Mmm. Needed some teeth to match the nail marks."

"Jesus, woman, get some sleep." But he's laughing as much as she is.

A nap does sound good, naked together in their snug little cabin. Today is a day to be thankful after all, and more than anything else other than the baby girl on the way, this _is_ what he's most thankful for.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol can't help the automatic headcount she does, verifying all the family's here, although Scout and Shane have the look of a couple that spent their morning off in the sort of activities that leave one dehydrated but happy. She's starting to wonder how long their honeymoon phase will last, because they've been in it in some form or another since July. She kind of hopes it's a long time, but she knows the baby's arrival will rearrange a lot on both sets of parents.

It reminds her of the exam she had with Caleb yesterday. She covers shifts for the non-doctor medical personnel to have a day off each week, and yesterday placed her with the quiet young doctor. He was a little surprised, since most of the women prefer Cricket's oversight for all things gynecological. But her original checkup hadn't been with pregnancy in mind, and since she knew the exam would by necessity discuss private aspects of her sex life, asking her stepdaughter to do it was a little bit weird.

It had taken him less than ten minutes to remove her implant, coaxing it out with nothing more than the tip of a scalpel after an incision so small he didn't even stitch it after. She wishes the clinic she had the prior ones replaced at had been as skilled. Her arm is sore, but the healing incision under an X of steri strips and a Wonder Woman band-aid that he winked at her about. He sent her home with prenatal vitamins and ovulation kits to cover the next three months, and a request to add a couple of in between meals snacks to her day because he feels her weight is borderline low still.

Merle was so tired from a day spent reinforcing the Eldridge fencing after Terminus radioed in about a herd on the move their way that he was asleep before she got out of the shower last night. His team borrowed Glenn's two for extra hands and they got the entire three-quarter mile stretch done, even when it meant eating supper at the fence sides as they ran welders as the light faded.

Since she needed to be up early between preparations for both meals, she left him to sleep. Tonight's soon enough to tell him.

"Relax, darlin'. The family's all here, even the extras, and based on the lack of leftover seating, I don't think anyone's loose in the place except the watch standers." The two people on duty were the two older men from Grady, both as happy to spend the noon to six shift together as in a group. Carol's already sent them heaping plates of everything and an entire pecan pie to share. Merle tugs her to sit and motions for Hershel to stand.

The room quiets as they see the white bearded man move to the head of the long buffet of food. Religion might not play a huge part in their daily lives, everyone left to their personal observances, but Hershel's willingness to sit with anyone in need of counsel or advice leaves him as the defacto spiritual counsel for Homestead.

"I'm not going to make a long speech, because I can hear the tummies rumbling from here as we smell all this wonderful food that so many have brought to share with us. Much like the fabled first Thanksgiving that most of us learned about in elementary school, ours is an example of how people can come together in a foreign land to not only survive, but thrive through taking care of each other. Many of you embarked on a perilous journey to arrive here, just like the Pilgrims. Our old world is gone, but we've already proved we're able and willing to overcome adversity to build a new one in its place. So today, we remember those who could not make it to be with us, but we give thanks for those we still have around us and all the blessings our community has offered us.

"I'm not going to lead you in prayer, but I find there's a verse out of the book of Jeremiah that suits our community. _And out of them shall proceed thanksgiving and the voice of them that make merry: and I will multiply them, and they shall not be few; I will also glorify them, and they shall not be small._"

He smiles kindly over the large group. "Now how about we let these hungry little ones take a shot at the food. Then the ladies, and with luck, gentlemen, they'll leave enough food for us or have pity on us and feed us by their own hands."

The teasing quip is unusual for Hershel, but it sets the right tone, and excited children pop up all over the room, with the mothers of the smallest ones accompanying their trips. In the shuffle of getting plates filled, Carol ends up with Hershel across from her and she finds she really enjoys the man's smile. He offers a hand across the table to her and she realizes his immediate family managed seats alongside him: Maggie, Glenn, and Beth. She takes his hand, letting him lead a quiet blessing of their meal, but the surprising part is feeling Merle's large hand slip into her free one. He squeezes it on the 'amen' and returns to his food as if he hadn't participated in the prayer.

From the movements along the table, everyone joined in, and she smiles at her food, feeling that sense of calm that prayer has always given her settle over her. Their large family isn't all at the one table, but having that sense of the twelve of them who are at this table together is enough.

Some aren't family, although with the Dixon personality, Carol thinks she should append that to 'yet', like Honey's roommate Lydia or T-Dog. Eugene's inclusion may be as much the empty seat and the willingness of both Honey and Lydia to find his speaking habits charming.

Jamie's with Amy and her sister, not so far away that Carol can't see his tall dark figure between the two blondes, Dale nearby as always. Scout's other adopted Marine is with Jamie's group, although she worries for his sanity since he's obviously flirting with Andrea. He hasn't even turned twenty yet.

Patricia's inability to sit on the stool seating at most of the tables means she's at the better table and her four ducklings followed. She looks happy enough with the two other pregnant women and their families. Christopher, who normally isn't far from Scout at most meals, is sitting with his family, who have the young woman whose mother was Bryce's coworker on the local police force among their number.

Lori's at this table though, as uncomfortable as Carol knows she'll find the seat, between Daryl and Carl. Rick seems to finally be accepting that being Carl's father and Shane's best friend is going to bring him into the family orbit, because he's next to Scout on Carl's other side. He's carrying on a debate with T-Dog across from him that is keeping both men and their closest table mates entertained. She's still not entirely sure how Sophia ended up so far away, between T-Dog and Jazz, but she suspects the youngest Dixons are providing an expanded buffer zone between Honey and the man.

That particular Dixon doesn't seem to care, so perhaps the hurt's faded enough for friendship to be premiere again. She's enthralled with Andre's chatter next to her anyway, where the toddler's booster seat allows him to sit between his mother and the teenager. With Abby on her other side, she won't lack for enthusiastic conversation.

She wonders at Lilly and Meghan not being included for a minute, finding Tara's sister and niece sitting with Felipe and Miguel among the elderly mobile enough to attend the group meal. The body language between the two nurses makes her wonder if she's missed a budding relationship.

"Eat your food before it gets cold, Mouse." Merle reaches out to fill her glass and then Hershel's and Maggie's before passing the pitcher of sweet tea down the table. "You look like you're gonna eat your weight in spinach."

She grins. "I've missed it. There's nothing like fresh spinach, and creamed spinach is my favorite way to eat it."

"Could build you some cold boxes up at the house to have some of your own, if you want."

The casual offer to just build her something from nothing is so perfectly Merle that she leans out to kiss him instead of responding.

He's smiling she draws away, one hand on her knee. "Guess that's a yes, please?"

Maggie's giggle saves her from the small fit of embarrassment, but she's still blushing a little when she responds. "Yes, please."

Hershel watches them with amusement mirroring his daughter's. "Might be something for the younger ones to tackle. Most have enough skills to build raised beds for the cabins and planters for the Village so that people can grow their own herbs, greens, even tomatoes or peppers later when it's warm again."

"Or flowers, Daddy. Don't forget the flowers."

"There's pretty flowers that make good foodstuff and medicine too, so yes, flowers too."

That's probably the reality of their life for a good long time now, beauty and utility rolled into one. Carol finds she doesn't mind. The idea reminds her of her Dixons, every one of them.

~*~ LG ~*~

"Here ya go, Tiha."

Lori straightens a little at the term Jazz uses as he slides a dessert plate with two pieces of baklava on it. There's extra honey beyond what she knows he normally drizzles on the sweet, and he's got a little of what she terms 'Dixon mischief' in his soft smile.

She knows her place in Daryl's life, even if they haven't even talked about making it anything formal. And Abby's a given, with her constant use of 'Mama'. But the rest of Daryl's family simply uses her name, although the insulatingly polite 'Miz' is dropped by now. But she doesn't want to embarrass the sweet kid who just called her aunt, so she thanks him and dips her fingertips into the honey like a naughty child. He laughs and joins in a seemingly fierce debate between Sophia and Carl about which dessert is the best.

Her son is advocating hard for the strawberry-rhubarb pie, probably as much to make his father smile as any true liking for the dessert. They both know the boy's favorite is sweet potato. Sophia's advocating for pecan pie, and Jazz attempts to lure both to his side of things by offering bites of the rather tasty looking banana pudding on his plate. Since he's offering and she was curious about it earlier anyway, she snags a bite using Daryl's spoon, since her fork doesn't really work for pudding.

"Hey, woman. That's my spoon," he objects, stealing it back.

"Shouldn't leave it unguarded around a hungry pregnant woman then."

He snorts, pretending to hide the utensil on the other side of his plate before picking it back up to eat his own pudding. It really is very tasty for the bananas not being the soft, near-overripe mess that Lori knows is the preferred state before banana pudding.

She shifts on the uncomfortable seat and it draws the attention of the three closest males. Daryl's she understands, but the two teenagers' is a bit cute. "No worries, boys. I'll survive one meal without a cushion, I promise."

"Bet Mama would loan you her tub if you wanted a long soak," Jazz suggests and Daryl nods.

The thought of that lovely clawfoot tub does sound tempting. Carol and Merle both have repeatedly offered the use of their bathroom to both Lori and Patricia. Daryl did manage a tub in their cabin, but it's a small one meant more for Asskicker's future baths than a bulky pregnant woman of Lori's height. Lori also knows that the various members of the family have collected a veritable treasure trove of luxury bath products in Carol's domain. The way they say I love you is in so much more than words. She's even seen Scout trek through the deck door with a bag from one of the truly expensive beauty product lines, and that would have had to been a deliberate side run.

"Alright. It does sound perfect." She's not due any cooking for supper since Carol's declared the evening meal to be one both pregnant women attending spend time enjoying the company and not working in the kitchen. That makes her feel a little guilty, despite her contribution to the lunchtime meal, except that even Carl seems unusually excited about being one of Carol's kitchen crew. It should be an interesting meal, and she knows it's the first time Carol's ever headed up a family holiday with such freedom to look after everyone she loves.

Daryl slips off his seat and goes down a few places to drop an arm across Carol's shoulder. He apparently relays the request during the half-hug, because Carol leans backwards in full confidence he won't let her fall and grins at Lori. "Try the chamomile or lavender oil and take a bottle home with you. It'll help with leg cramps," she calls down the table.

Something to help with that certainly sounds like heaven, so she nods and smiles, while Daryl spends a few more minutes speaking softly to Carol before he lets her go and hip checks Merle into the table on the way by. Merle roars with laughter, so she wonders if he said something to Daryl that didn't carry.

Daryl doesn't make it back to his seat though, because Abby slides one spot over and giggles as her father pretends to huff at her. But he smiles and kisses the top of her head as he sits next to Honey instead. Abby leans carefully into Lori, arms going around her in a hug. It's very sweet until she provokes Carl into joining the hug as more of a hug war than a cuddle, but Lori can only laugh and enjoy the embrace of her two kids as they compete over who can hug her best.

She glances over Carl's head when they settle down finally to actual hugs and catches Rick looking at her. Looking over Carl is getting harder as he hits his growth spurt, but for this Thanksgiving at least, he's still young and small enough to see his father's smile no longer holds any hint of sadness or wistfulness when he looks at her and Carl. Despite the beard, it's finally more what she remembers from their youth, when she first grew to love the pretty blue-eyed boy with the soft curls who included her in everything he and Shane did.

When he reaches out and takes her hand from where it's around Carl's shoulder, she squeezes it a little tighter than she probably normally would.

Her first love's going to be better than just okay. This moment, bracketed by both her children and the men who gave them to her, might just be the happiest she's ever been.

~*~ TC ~*~

Tara feels drool sliding slowly down her chest and into her cleavage, but she doesn't care one bit. Christian's stuffed as full as a baby can be, pampered with so many bites of food between Cricket and Shane in his little high chair at the end of the table that he didn't even need a plate of his own. But once he got a full belly, his eyelids got heavy and he reached for Tara.

Aside from the surge of contented love that having the baby sleeping on her shoulder gives her, she's being pampered by Chrissy, who thinks holding a sleeping baby means she gets her pie hand fed to her, bite by bite.

She argued with Lilly a bit, when her sister said they'd spend the meal separate, but her sister won in the end, like always. She knows the pair were welcome at the Dixon table, and they'll be at the supper later, but she has to admit that Lilly's probably right that Meghan's cheerful chatter is bringing enough joy to the elderly attendees that Tara's surprised they haven't had to perform CPR from too much sheer happiness among those folks.

Her niece has gone from a sickly grandfather who couldn't remember her, with Alzheimer's ravaging his brain for most of Meghan's life, to being an honorary granddaughter to at least a dozen of the nursing home residents. The last few months are the first time she's heard Lilly use their mother's native language with her daughter, and Meghan's learned fast. It makes Tara miss her mother and curse the cancer that took her from them the year Tara graduated high school.

But she thinks the woman who survived a perilous and illegal crossing to America all the way from Colombia would be happy to see where they are today. Lilly's happy for the first time since their father got sick and her husband bailed as soon as the reality of caring for a man losing the basis of who he is set in. Tara never intended to join the department where she grew up, wanting a place in a bigger city like Atlanta, but she was incapable of leaving her sister behind to care for David Chambler alone.

Today, seeing her sister smile and Meghan laugh and feeling Christian drool on her damned boobs, she looks at her partner and gives all her thanks to the courage it took her to yell out from that rooftop and fire the shot that saved Cricket's run partner from an unseen walker. They were strangers and a possible danger to her family, but it was the best risk she ever took.

She thinks her late mother looked out for her family that day.


	39. Thanksgiving, Part 3

**November 25, 2010**

~*~ DD ~*~

Daryl grins as he sees Scout and Shane entering the kitchen, each carrying big crockpots like the two he and Carl just delivered to Carol's domain. His is the sole meat dish Carol isn't cooking herself, two roasts from one of the wild boars his team took down when they started moving too close to Homestead property for the former game wardens' comfort. Damn things could be a menace in enough numbers, and with no real predators right now, those numbers were going to grow. He doesn't even think a walker could do much damage to a good size sounder of hogs unless they were strongly outnumbered. They're too fast and too willing to eat anything.

"Stuffed cabbage rolls," Shane explains to Carol. "Made them vegetarian so they'd be more of a side dish to whatever you've got going that smells so good in here."

"You made them, not her, right?" Daryl teases. Scout smacks him in the arm, but she's smiling.

Shane laughs. "Yeah. Did the prep last night and stuck them in the crockpot this morning. Should be enough for everyone to have a couple, if they like. Got mushrooms, lentils, rice, garlic, raisins, tomatoes, bit of spice."

Carol's peering into one of the crockpots and sniffing appreciatively. "I don't think I've ever had them without beef, but they smell heavenly. Thank you. Now shoo. I'm pretty sure they're waiting on you two to start up a lacrosse game out back." They head out to the backyard, and she turns to see him still leaned on the counter. "Not going to go play too, Pookie?"

"Nah. They got enough to play around. Might later." It's not that he doesn't enjoy the sport, actually more than the games of soccer or touch football that get scrambled together in the backyard fairly often, but Carol's dismissed her team of teenage prep cooks outside and he can't quite bring himself to leave her. Even Beth and Patrick are out there. "Where can I help?"

She looks around thoughtfully. There are two crockpots on the counter in addition to the four that came via him and Shane, but he doubts they need any attention. He's already peeked and seen she's got sweet potato casserole going in both. While they'd had enough turkey between a couple of captured ones from the poultry flock and the half dozen Daryl's team have hunted over the past two weeks for the community meal, Carol's taken out two of the more ornery geese from the poultry flock for the family dinner. Both of those are in one of the ovens, although she said when he came in it's probably another 45 minutes before they're done. The other oven has the biggest pan of dressing he's ever seen. She has four burners of the stovetop occupied as well, and there's a deep fryer on the counter.

"You ever done dinner rolls?" she asks, looking at the bowl of dough on the island counter, covered with a dish towel while it rises.

He shakes his head. "Know biscuits and cornbread, but not yeast rolls."

"Guess you can learn then." She pulls him over to the island and tips the dough out on parchment paper after punching it down, rolling it quickly into a long rope. "Just cut it like this and roll it into balls for the pan. When you're done, spray it with the garlic butter spray. Cover it with a towel and it'll finish rising while the geese cook." While he starts on the dough balls, she sprays three pans and sets them beside where he's working.

He hears her open the oven door to check on the dressing. "What all's in yours?" Growing up in the South, he knows every woman has some special recipe of her own. He doesn't think he's ever eaten a dressing that tasted the same if the cook behind it was different.

"Cornbread dressing with apples and some of that wild boar sausage I asked you for from the hog hunt. Got mushrooms, sourdough and cornbread, onions, and helped do away with another bottle of that awful white wine. Glynnis did the bread and cornbread yesterday for the dressing."

"So, I see she wriggled something in?" he jokes.

"That and she did all the pies earlier this week and froze the ones that could be. I'll need to cycle some of them into the ovens as we eat. Got two pumpkin, two bourbon-pecan, two berry, two butterscotch, and two lemon cream." Carol nudges him where she's measuring out ingredients for cornbread. "Glynnis said to watch you, because you could eat one of the lemon all by yourself."

He laughs. "Probably. But so could Jazz. Might do a key lime at Christmas to surprise him. He likes all the citrus ones."

"I had noticed his love of anything lemon already."

"What's in your veggie pots and pans?" With covers on some, he could only easily identify one big stockpot that is obviously future mashed potatoes.

"Potatoes, cauliflower with broccoli, and butternut squash on there right now. In the coolers, I've got glazed carrots, crowder peas, spicy green beans with kale, peas with pearl onions, and spicy collard greens. Merle's out back with the grill for the corn and frog legs that Shane took the kids hunting at the fish hatchery."

"Jesus, Carol. You're gonna make us pop." And he can see the evidence of her planning in the little notebook that even sideways from this angle he can see has a timeline and quantities. He thinks in the right life, Carol could have run a restaurant like that lady from Grady did that took over so Carol didn't have to do meal shifts all the time.

"I couldn't narrow it down," she says, blushing a little, but she's smiling, so he didn't upset her. "It's the first time I've ever gotten to just do a menu all out. Well, some limitations for things we can't get or aren't in season, but it's a lot of people to feed anyway. And the kids were great prep cooks in peeling and chopping. Plus, you and Shane cooked, and Glynnis did the pies, and Maggie and Beth made two cakes." She indicates two covered cake stands already on the table. "Jacqui's bringing corn pudding when she and Jim come up, and Cricket brought enough cookies we'll be eating them for days."

The idea of _why_ she never got free reign on a menu like this bugs him, so he takes a break from his rolls to sneak in a hug. She makes a little surprised sound, but hugs him back readily. He's back to the rolls and she's moved on from cornbread - now set aside to bake when the dressing comes out of the oven - and starts coating okra.

Daryl works quietly for a minute, then starts laughing a little. "Did you ever think you'd be having a Thanksgiving dinner that included wild boar and frog legs on the menu instead of turkey?"

She gives him one of those sly grins of hers. "I never ate a single frog leg until that quarry camp, despite living in Georgia all my life. No squirrel or rabbit either."

"And now you're just a regular ole Dixon, nibbled on everything. We ever venture south, gonna find a gator just so you've tried it. Or head up to the mountains and find a bear. Figure those could survive a while too, like the hogs and deer." Sadly, the things that don't survive the walkers well are the household pets and penned up livestock. Daryl isn't going to think about those particular sights while in this amazing smelling kitchen.

"You've eaten bear and gator? Why doesn't that surprise me?"

He just laughs as he finishes the rolls and follows her direction with the spray and towel. "Some of it I've hunted over the years, but a few were at wild game charity dinners. Like for Rotary Club or Boy Scouts."

"What's the weirdest thing you've ever eaten then?"

"At a dinner? They don't get too crazy. Exotic, but a lot of 'em don't even do squirrel. Had Rocky Mountain Oysters, of course." He waits for the grimace to set in and smirks at her. "Eaten bobcat and crow at different times. Figured if I killed it, should at least give it a try. Think the weirdest that I don't want to repeat would be karaoli yahni. That's these little wild snails they catch on Cyprus that Scout made us try that trip we went over there. They catch 'em wild like people go clamming or crawfishing, then cook 'em in tomato sauce. Go into a market there and you can buy them fresh, but the damned things are actively trying to escape their bins too."

"I don't know whether to say ewww or be jealous you got to go to a foreign country and try things like that."

"You should ask Scout sometime about her duty tours. Think a lot of her mementos are in the attic here. She usually brought a bunch home since she always lived in the barracks and it didn't allow for storage space. And I know she's sent all sorts of things home." His own small collection is part of what he collected from Thomson on his trip.

"I'll do that. I always worry about asking sometimes, in case something's a bad memory."

"Just ignore Afghanistan and you'll be fine. She's good with the others."

Carol nods as a timer goes off for the oven with the dressing in it, so she scurries to check it while Daryl sidesteps out of her path. When she declares it done, he gets the pan out of the oven to the trivets on the table while she pushes her two pans of cornbread into the warm confines.

"About half an hour on the geese. Wanna check with Merle on how close he is? Take him a cream soda too." Carol passes him a cold drink from the fridge.

"A'right." He leaves her to the okra she's still breading and steps outside to the little outpost of the deck that houses the big grill. From the massive stack of foil wrapped packages, Merle's nearly finished with the corn and starting on the frog legs.

"Carol send you looking for her veggies?" Merle asks, reaching out to take the soda bottle when it's offered.

"Yeah. Geese got a half hour she says. Dressing's done and the cornbread's in the oven."

The older Dixon nods. "She's gonna drop like a rock tonight soon as everyone's gone. Told her she was taking at least a half day tomorrow to rest up a little, but she probably won't listen."

"She's just excited."

Merle smiles softly, and Daryl likes the expression, one he hasn't seen on the man outside of his kids in decades. "Yeah, she is."

There's no one else on this part of the deck, everyone involved in the lacrosse game that looks like it's evolved into contact rules if the fact that Jamie's just been bowled over by a crowing Maggie is any indication. He supposes it's a good thing they fetched all that gear from the high school and everyone's following Hershel's rule of helmets to play. The veterinarian swore he had no wish to deal with concussions from anyone getting a ball smacked into their skull.

"Who's winning?" he asks. The antics on the makeshift field don't really tell him much other than Jazz is in at goalie on one end and Beth at the other, taking the spot Honey would normally play but can't due to her broken arm.

"I'm not entirely sure they're keeping score. Or staying on the same teams. Could have sworn ten minutes ago that Maggie and Glenn were on the same team, but then she stick checked him and scored, so who knows?"

"Guess that's what happens when you let Honey be the referee. Doesn't matter if they're all happy. Abby still playing?"

"Sorta. She's benched herself for now to pester Honey. If they were taking score, I'd say she's distraction for a larger plot."

Daryl laughs. Yeah, he could see that as a plan. Merle plops the last of the corn packets on the big platter and stretches before going back to the frog legs.

"You and Carol set a date yet? Sophia can't seem to stop talking about wanting it done yesterday."

"She's thinking Christmas. Doesn't want anything big, just a ceremony in front of everyone."

"The fuss would embarrass her," Daryl agrees. "But you best make sure she at least gets a pretty dress for it."

"Not stupid, Daryl." But he grins. "Use all the excuses I can for that. She's a hard woman to spoil." He looks at the platter and back through the glass toward Carol. "Best take that corn in before she comes looking for it. Bring me another platter out for the frog legs, will ya?"

Daryl nods and lifts the heavy platter of corn. When he looks back over his shoulder as he opens the door, he catches Merle's affectionate study of Carol moving around the kitchen and just has to smile at the happiness so evident in both of them.

~*~ CP ~*~

"I ate way too much," Carol groans. She's not sure she can move for the next two or three hours. She isn't the only one. They've wedged in enough seating for everyone, although the younger ones are actually up on the balcony area that overlooks the living room. From where she's leaned back against Merle, she can see at least three of the kids sprawled on the floor in their little food comas.

What seemed like a mountain of food is decimated enough that they might have some interesting leftovers for everyone to take, but nowhere near as much as Carol feared once all the food was on display. The desserts, however, may end up in the take home containers, because she's not sure even any of the men or more ravenous teenagers have managed dessert yet. There's time yet to the evening, she supposes, but is certainly glad other folks are tackling the dishes.

"So, who's up for board games?" Honey calls out. She's sprawled against Christopher's knees, and from the looks of the two empty paper plates in front of her, Carol wonders how she has the energy to perk up like she is. Teenage metabolism, she supposes.

"Drag a few out and see who wants to play, once the food's put up," Merle suggestions.

Honey rolls to her feet and snags the disposable plates and utensils from everyone in her vicinity before going off to return with an actual garbage bag to offer up to everyone else. She's grinning and Carol's puzzled until Merle leans in to mutter in her ear. "She's taking trash duty so someone else gets to put away food and do the dishes."

It makes Carol giggle softly at the young woman's forethought. Honey's a hard worker, but she likes to joke a lot about working smarter, not harder. She has the balcony diners roused to throw away their items as well. Normally, Carol would hate to toss the plates when no one's eaten dessert, but she doesn't suppose they use them often enough to worry about landfill levels in a world that's lost almost all population.

Honey's also got the others moving. Jazz, Sophia, Isabelle, and Carl come trotting down the stairs and begin sorting food into takeout containers, each treating the food like a buffet again. She realizes they're setting up variety plates for people to take with them and figures if anything's left more than they want to eat, she'll take them down to the community center fridges. There's always someone looking for a meal off-cycle that will take care of leftovers. Beth and Jimmy go to divvy up the pies and cake into clear little clamshells, and Carol wonders who planned ahead for that so she can thank them.

It takes the teenagers less than ten minutes to have all the serving dishes and pans empty and stacked along the counter by the sink. Stacking the food that can't sit outpost into the fridge takes a little more creativity, but they manage with what she hears Jazz mutter is like Tetris with food boxes.

What impresses her the most is that no adult seems to be directly involved in the process, but she wouldn't be surprised if Patricia arranged it ahead of time.

With the table wiped down, the game cabinet is raided, with the usual favorites landing on the table. Carol knows for sanity's sake, the kids are probably going to pick a few and head downstairs, leaving the adults to play. They do, although a couple of adults join in, when Christopher, Jamie, and Amy follow. Honey stays upstairs, surprisingly, coming to steal the seat Maggie vacates as she volunteers she and Glenn for dishes.

She curls into Carol's side, a little bit of a feat since she's as tall as Merle and about six inches taller than Carol herself. She has her head on Carol's chest as if she were a much smaller child, humming softly. Carol angles her arm up to pet her hair like she would if Jazz or Sophia curled up against her, enjoying the extended contact. Honey's as tactile as her siblings and dispenses hugs freely, but she's never just relaxed against Carol like this.

As the others start splitting off into smaller groups to play cards, a board game, or even debate if anyone wants to sit through a movie, Carol glances up to Merle and sees he's smiling down at them both. He leans in for a kiss, the movement of which causes Honey to grumble.

But then there's a quiet question: "When will you two actually get married?"

She doesn't sound worried, although a little subdued. She was as excited as Sophia when the ring made its appearance, but it seems their lack of forward progress or discussion is making her pensive.

They haven't set an official date for it between them, although they've thought about Christmas, since everyone will already be festive. So that's what she tells the girl curled against her.

"Good." She reaches out and actually brushes her fingers across the ring and doesn't seem like she's worried about moving away anytime soon. Carol wonders for a minute if her clearing the younger ones out of the room was deliberate so she could ask the question. She could see Honey designating herself as the seeker of information for their children as a collective.

Carol looks up at Merle, knowing she committed the date, but he's smiling and reaches down to play with the ring too, so that she ends up with them both holding her left hand.

This is a tiny slice of heaven, she thinks.

~*~ GR ~*~

"You got a minute, Glenn?" Glenn turns from putting away the last dish he dried as Cricket's dish helper and nods.

Hershel leads them out onto the back deck. No one's ventured outside, even though the weather's actually quite nice for November, so they've got it all to themselves when Hershel motions for him to take a seat at the patio table.

"Did you need something?" he asks. He's been with Maggie, _lived_ with Maggie, long enough now not to feel completely anxious about a private conversation with her father, but there's still a little ball of it taking up residence in his gut.

"Just wanted to have a little talk, it being a family holiday and all. You did good sending me to talk to Abraham." The man's steady gaze is kindly in a way Glenn never experienced from his own father. "He's not the only one might be missing family on a day like today. You got anyone out there, son?"

"Not sure. My family was up in Michigan. Dad, mom, four sisters. I came down here for college and never went back." He wasn't entirely welcome, after dropping out of college. He could go home, but it would be back to the expectations he only partly escaped in coming to Atlanta.

"We can always hope the government held things together better up there, or they found a safe haven. Four sisters is a lot of family. Guess that's why you fit in so well with the Dixon girls."

"Yeah. Two younger, two older. Lana, Corinne, Charlotte, and Emily." He rubs at the surface of the table, studying the weathering pattern instead of looking at Hershel. "Lana's an accountant, Corinne a teacher, both married, but only Lana has kids so far. Charley's still in college at Michigan State, had another year to go on her biochemistry degree." He's quiet for a minute, thinking of his youngest sister.

"And Emily?"

"She's Beth's age." He smiles sadly at Hershel. "None of them have the kind of skills you need for this. My parents are first generation immigrants from Korea, but they lived in the city there and here. Add in that Lana's got two kids under five... I want to hope I'll hear something from them one day, but I can't keep hoping for it."

"I suppose that's fair enough. But the dead can't walk forever, so maybe one day you'll find out they're as resourceful as you are."

"I sure hope so."

"Our family, they came over from Ireland. My grandfather was the first generation here for my family. Saved up and bought that farm I raised my family on." Hershel pulls a pocket watch out, turning it over in his hands. "My grandfather brought this over from Ireland with him. He passed it on to my father, and my father passed it to me. Pawned it once, for nothing more than a night of drinking."

He laughs and Glenn does too, a little nervously. "You bought it back though."

"Josephine did. Maggie's late mama. She was always smarter than I was about such things, so she kept it hidden until I sobered up." Hershel opens the watch, running a thumb across the glass face. "She was a good woman, my Jo. Maggie's got all her fire and determination. Got her heart too."

He closes the watch and studies Glenn solemnly. "One thing you won't understand until it's your little girl is that no man is ever good enough for her, until you finally meet the one that is." He reaches out and grabs Glenn's wrist where he's stopped picking at the surface of the table and lays the watch in it. "I've watched you, son. With Maggie, with Beth, with your adopted sisters. That's what you look for in a good man, how he treats the women who love him."

Glenn swallows hard, pulling the watch closer. The weight in his hand feels far more than metal and glass, as if its history weighs so much more. "Thank you," he says softly.

"Shawn would have really liked you. He wasn't my son by blood, but I intended him to have it one day. He'd want you to have it just like I do. He'd also tell you to quit fiddling around with that ring you've got hidden away before Maggie ends up proposing to you like her mother did me." The older man smiles a little sadly. "Now head back inside and enjoy your day with family."

Sliding the watch protectively in his pocket, Glenn does as he's bidden, looking back to see the bearded veterinarian staring off into the distance. He hesitates to leave him alone, until Patricia meets him at the door. She's damn near waddling, her pregnant belly seeming to indicate imminent baby rather than six more weeks. She has a fleece throw over her arm. "Go find your lady, Glenn. I'll go sit a while with him."

Assured that the man who just declared him worth one of his most precious daughters won't be alone, Glenn rests his fingers on the watch through his jeans and smiles.

~*~ SP ~*~

Sophia's sitting on one of the unused bunks, with Jazz stretched out with his head on her lap facing outward. He's fast asleep, but she's still playing idly with his silky soft hair. The big group downstairs is spread out now, the board games long since abandoned in favor of smaller activities. Amy and Jamie are still here, which is why she won't be in trouble for being in the bunk area. The couple are watching a movie over on the sectional. Beth's beside them with Andre asleep in her lap, where the little boy asked to stay the night with 'his Bethy' and Michonne agreed with a smile.

Most of the kids are playing cards, a game Jimmy calls 'bullshit' that involves successfully lying about your cards. The older kids are losing badly to Al and Abby in the game. She thought Daryl would get mad when Abby plays a game that requires her to use a curse word, but he only laughed and told her it was an allowed exception.

Patrick's in his bunk asleep. Like Jazz, he was up really early, so they just kinda ran out of steam.

Carl's sitting on the floor in front of the bunk Sophia's sitting on, playing solitaire. She nudges him with her socked foot. "Gonna miss the five on the six," she hints.

He nods and moves the card just as Honey comes down the back stairway. The older teenager is grinning as she drops down to sit across from Carl.

"Christmas."

Sophia and Carl both frown at her, wondering why she's talking about Christmas already.

"They're getting married on Christmas."

"Oh, wow." Sophia's squeal gets everyone's attention and wakes the two sleeping boys. She feels a bit sorry for that, but it's not the first time Jazz lost sleep for family news.

He frowns at Honey, still half asleep, so she repeats it. "Dad and Mom are getting married on Christmas day."

The excitement spreads in the room. Maybe Patricia's kids aren't 'official' Dixons and neither is Beth and Amy's only half there by dating Jamie, but everyone's grinning.

"We should figure out something cool to do for them," she suggests. "Because if it's Christmas, they're trying not to make a big deal."

Honey nods and most of the others look interested, even Jimmy, who normally tries to play it cool about things like this. "Gonna put you in charge of that, Pipsqueak. Get some ideas together."

Sophia makes a face at her for the nickname she's snagged from Daryl, but they know she'll agree. Honey goes to join the folks watching the movie and Patrick and Jazz return to sleep before Carl speaks.

"Hey, Sophia?"

"What?"

"You think your mom is gonna have a baby like mine? They're the same age, kinda."

Sophia thinks of all the times she wanted a little brother or sister and knew it wasn't safe for one at her house. But now, that's different. "I dunno. But I hope so. It'd be nice not to be the baby of the family."

"You got Abby. And my new sister too, sorta."

"I guess." She leans her head against the headboard. The family tree is a bit confusing. Some days she's not sure if Abby's her cousin or niece and neither is anyone else.

"Sophia?" Carl's voice is lower now, and he sounds a bit sad. She looks up to see he's pushed his cards in a pile, giving up on the game.

"What's wrong?"

"Do you think my mom and Daryl are gonna get married too?"

"They might. You could always ask Daryl. Would you want them too?"

"At first, not really. Not because he's not cool or anything, but because things were so weird about the baby. I mean, there's Dad, and Uncle Shane, and then Scout, and it's just a lot of things changed just in my family. I mean, I thought Dad was dead and then he wasn't, but it didn't fix things." He sighs. "It was really bad for a while, especially with Mom. I guess I'm afraid they'll break up and it'll be bad again."

"Well, that can happen even if they don't get married, right?"

"I guess so. I remember Mom's friend sat on the couch crying half the weekend once when her boyfriend broke up with her."

"I guess it was easier for me cos I really liked the idea of Mama and Daddy together. Daddy was scary sometimes at the quarry cos of the drugs, but never scary like Ed. And Mama smiles all the time now. And sings and hums and she's just so happy. Is your mom happy like that?"

Carl thinks it over for a minute. "Yeah. I think she is. Maybe it'll be okay if they get married."

She fluffs Jazz's hair and smiles at her friend. "Don't think they'll get married before your sister is born though."

"Why's that?"

She giggles. "You are such a boy. No woman wants to get married when she's big and pregnant." Or at least that's what all the magazines and TV shows seem to imply that Sophia's seen. She thinks her mother might not care, but there's a set date now and no baby, so Carol won't have to worry about that.

He takes it as good sense and nods. "She does complain she feels like a beached whale sometimes and says she can't see her feet." He yawns. "You want something to drink?"

When she agrees, he wanders off to the fridge, leaving her to just smile in happiness about the upcoming wedding that she can feel clear down to her feet.


	40. Thanksgiving, Part 4

**November 25, 2010**

~*~ SW ~*~

"Hey, man, you okay?"

Rick looks up and smiles from his seat on the front steps. He takes the bottle from Shane and looks puzzled. "Bottled stuff should all be past drinkable now."

"Barleywine lasts longer according to that book those folks doing the new brewing found. Plus, we got it from that place with the wine cellar."

After looking at the label, Rick snorts in laughter. "Did you hand me a beer with blue balls in the name on purpose?"

Shane just grins and takes a seat beside him, drinking from his own bottle and waiting.

Rick takes a drink and then stares at the bottle. "Blueberries. I get it."

"Didn't answer my question, brother."

"Yeah, Shane, I am. Just wanted a bit of air and Hershel's out back with Patricia."

"Probably the two best people in the house to let you sit and think."

"Was just musing about things. Carl's growing like a damned weed. Went to throw an arm around him after the game and I think he's gained three inches."

"He has. Saw the measurement marking Lori started in the new cabin the other day when I was helping Daryl rearrange the living room."

"Hopefully she won't redo it six times like she did in our old house. Carl sure seems to enjoy the loft. Guess it was probably hard for a kid used to his own room to share space for so long." Rick sighs a little. "He's growing up so fast."

"That little redheaded niece of Christopher seems to be noticing him now that she's coming out of her shell a little." Shane can't imagine what life was like for that poor kid, trapped in an attic with her family all walkers for weeks. Little badass in the making, he thinks, especially with Bryce as an uncle.

"It would help if he noticed that. Boy's only got eyes for Sophia. Worries me that he hasn't given up on it."

"Well, as much as I wouldn't say it in front of any of the teenagers, odds are Jazz and Sophia will last a few months or so. Might be the apocalypse, but teenagers are still teenagers." Even though Rick and Lori started dating in high school, he still remembers his best friend being head over heels for a different little blonde each year the two years before high school. "And if it does last, he'll get the idea eventually and move on."

"At least he's not obnoxious about it. Guess it helps that he's friends with both of them."

The echo of what could have been a triangle with Rick, Lori, and Shane creeps in for a minute, and Shane is glad again that Scout appeared in his life. He decides to tease Rick a little. "You sure it's _Sophia_ he's crushing on? Never see him with just her, you know."

Rick goes completely still and then chuckles as he takes a drink of his beer. "Huh. Guess I shouldn't assume. Not that it changes the current outcome either way."

"True." Shane finishes off his beer and the bottle clinks as he sits it between his feet on the steps.

"Noticed you drink a lot less nowadays. It's good to see." Rick's smiling when he glances over.

"Like it now and then. Just gotta remember the mouthwash later."

"Because she doesn't drink?"

"Because of what happened to her as a kid. She'll say she doesn't mind, but it's there. Think the smell sets off bad memories." He can only begin to imagine. He and Rick wrestled a few drunks in their day that he swore were going to make them drunk just by smelling the fumes. Put that in a kid's head along with a violent attack and he understands the miniscule flinch Scout tried to hide the few times before he clued in.

"Surprised she's not a diehard teetotaler due to that."

"Me too."

The front door opens behind them, and Lydia steps out, carrying a couple of the takeout containers. She smiles shyly at both of them.

"Going home already?" Shane asks. The former exchange student is being absorbed in by virtue of her friendships with Honey and Jazz, but she seems like she's still trying to figure out the noisy, chaotic family.

"I was going to spend some of the evening with the Brasfields, and I've got breakfast shift in the morning." Her English has little of the accent Shane once would have expected from a non-native speaker. Like Honey, the girl's multilingual, speaking both Mandarin and Malaysian as well as English.

"What's on the menu for tomorrow?"

"Applesauce pancakes and waffles. Biscuits and gravy. Whatever canned fruit mix Glynnis wants eaten. Breakfast pizza."

"Sounds real good."

She nods and bids them goodnight, trailing over to her own place first and emerging empty-handed to continue through the village to one of the buildings further away from the Dixon house.

"We still starting on your new addition tomorrow?" Rick asks.

"Yeah. They put in the foundation earlier this week. Got a batch of teenage helpers, too. Jamie said he'd come by to make sure we don't manage to put the walls upside down."

Rick laughs. "Even if we're not all that experienced, I'm pretty sure the teenagers you're probably talking about have done enough to know up from down. Not sure you could do an actual upside down if it's not some kinda kit, could you?"

"Think we're safe there. It'll be the kitchen I'm turning over to someone who won't set the place on fire adding electrical, but we gotta have the addition finished before we take out any interior walls." Shane will be a little sad to see the one-room cabin change so drastically, but while the baby's likely to spend most her nights at Lori and Daryl's, it's just not a feasible layout for an infant. So, they're adding a four-foot extension on the side that'll run the length of the cabin. It'll give them just enough space to add actual small bedrooms, enclose the bathroom, and make the kitchen big enough for a stove and a tiny table.

"Might as well head back inside before your wife thinks we've gone off carousing."

Shane chuckles. "She'd probably encourage it. She's not an obvious worrier like Lori is, but she's been keeping an eye on you."

"So long as that doesn't involve the blatant matchmaking both her sisters keep trying, she's welcome. But I'm doing good, Shane. Probably as good as I've ever been." He gets to his feet and offers Shane a hand up.

Reassured by the truth in his brother's voice, Shane's able to join in Rick's laughter when they emerge into a scene of Scout being lured away from teasing Christian's tiny piggies by the boy setting her on his mothers.

He loves this family's chaos.

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle gets Carol away from the winding down gathering by the simple method of carrying her once she dozed off for the second time. She nestles against his shoulder, trusting him even in her sleep to look after her.

Easing her onto the bed on his side, he gets the blankets turned down on hers. It's a testament to how tired she is that he gets her shoes, socks, and pants off without waking her. He debates leaving the shirt in place, since it's most likely to wake her, but the button-up blouse isn't likely to be comfortable and she hates sleeping in a bra. Moving her to her side of the bed, he tucks the blankets up to her waist before starting on those damned tiny buttons she loves.

Getting the sleeve off one arm is easy, but the other drags against her arm and she groans and wakes. He sees why when he sees the bruising on her arm. It's not bad, and half covered under a band-aid, but he remembers what used to be in that spot. She's fully awake now, watching as he touches the spot as gently as he can.

"Thought you wanted to wait til after the baby boom."

"Decided it was wasting time we might not have," she replies. "And it could take months anyway."

Leaving her arm be, he leans down to cup her face to kiss her. She responds more eagerly than he expected with her exhaustion, but he pulls back reluctantly.

"As much as I would like to at least put in some practice right now, you falling asleep in the middle won't work for me," he teases.

She laughs. "Then finish helping me out of this bra so I can go back to sleep."

Carol's asleep before he gets back to the bed with her nightgown, making him grin and shake his head. She mumbles a bit as he gets her into the soft material, but doesn't rouse again.

He's looking for a new tube of toothpaste when he finds the ovulation kits stashed under the sink, along with other feminine supplies she hasn't needed because the implant shut down her cycle. He can't say he's looking forward to that. He hopes she's not one of those women with a terrible time with it, because she'll push herself regardless and he doesn't want to see her suffer. He went through that enough with Scout, before he got smart enough to get her to a doctor who managed what seemed like a magic fix with that IUD. Before that, she ended up in bed every month for a couple days, too miserable to move. Thankfully, his plunge into that side of raising girls as a single father was easier the other two times around.

He actually manages to get ready for bed before the full impact hits him.

Biology willing, he might be a father again, and this time not of a sassy teenager who has far too much personality in common with him to not be of his blood and raising. It's a thought he put far away after the raw ache faded of not even knowing Jazz existed until he was three days old. No matter how ugly things went between them, to not even tell him about the baby was something he's never forgiven Lil for.

And now he's forty-six, and a grandfather, and there's a small worry in the back of his head about the lack of longevity in his bloodline on both sides for males. He knows he offered this to Carol, didn't want to keep another chance at motherhood from her, but looking at himself in the mirror, he sees hair and beard growth more gray than dark, and the signs of a life spent in outdoor work. He knows that even ignoring Will Dixon's untimely and well-deserved early demise, both his uncles and both grandfathers all died in their early fifties.

It's something he's always planned for. There was paperwork to ensure Daryl raised any of his kids still underage from the time Daryl himself was eighteen, modified each year one of them turned eighteen. He's lived better than those unlamented men did, courtesy of bossy athletic daughters. And other than a few years in his youth and the stupidity of the first two months after the world ended, he's stayed drug free, a novelty neither his father or Uncle Jesse managed. He's just got to keep looking after himself.

The thought of leaving Carol behind to raise small children terrifies him, but as he grips the sink and breathes through the anxiety attack, he starts to laugh softly at himself. There's no way in hell any of his kids would ever let her be alone.

Maybe he's a little too old to be considering new fatherhood, but at the same time, the urge to see Carol heavy with a child - _his_ child - might be one of the strongest he's ever had.

He leaves the quiet bathroom and finds Carol sprawled out from under the covers in her sleep. She doesn't wake as he lays down and tugs her close, resting a hand across the flat plane of her stomach.

None of his kids were planned with his involvement.

For the first time, he'll know every step of the way.

~*~ GR ~*~

Glenn's sitting on the bed in his sleep pants with the watch on the bed in front of him while Maggie showers. He can't quite bring himself to put it safely away yet. Touching it makes him feel a bit like a character in some fairy tale, facing off with a magic object.

"Tomorrow's gonna be a long day with that Walmart in Gainesville. How many trips you think we'll end up making?" Maggie asks, coming over to the bed. She's toweled her hair mostly dry, but he likes seeing it like this, sorta curly from not being brushed out straight yet.

When he doesn't answer, she reaches out to jab him in the shoulder with a grin that fades when she sees the watch.

"Daddy gave that to you?" she asks softly.

"Yeah. It's what he wanted to talk to me out on the deck after supper about."

"You look a bit like he threatened to shoot you, not gave you his granddaddy's watch." She sits beside him and takes his hand. Thankfully it's the one that isn't occupied by a precious object.

"I guess it's the idea of it. I wasn't welcome back home, not by my father, not as long as I didn't follow the path my parents set for me. Your dad doesn't care that I didn't graduate college and was delivering pizzas for a living."

"Of course not. Takes some people longer than others to find their calling, he used to always tell my brother. Shawn never could settle."

And the unspoken words are now he'll never get to, so Glenn puts an arm around her and lets her lean into him for a moment.

"You know you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, right?" he asks.

"You tell me that regularly, Glenn." She smiles, so it's not sarcasm. "If you think I feel in any way unappreciated, I don't. I never have with you."

"I'm glad." He twitches, moving his other hand under his thigh as he tries to find the words.

It serves to bring her complete attention to the fact that he's hiding something from her. "Glenn? What's in your hand?"

Crap. Crap. Crap.

He's never going to find the right words or the right time or any of it if he keeps chickening out every time he tries. He raises the hand but keeps the fist closed around what he holds. "Maggie Diana Greene, I have been head over heels in love with you since the first time I heard you yell yee-haw after kicking a walker off a fire escape ladder. What shocked the hell out of me was when you shared the sentiment." He opens his hand slowly, letting the glittery little emerald ring be revealed. It's flashy in its own way, no diamonds at all, just green stones in silverwork Jacqui assures him is Irish in origins. "And I really really want you to shock me again by saying yes, that you'll marry me."

She reaches for the ring and slides it on her left ring finger, holding it up to let the stones catch the light and giggles instead of answering.

That doesn't do anything good for his anxiety, despite the fact that she's wearing the ring. "Maggie?"

She just grins and goes to shuffle through the little box she keeps various womanly items in like skin cream and comes back with a ring of her own. It's sleek and black, some metal other than silver or gold, with a pattern of red stones set in diagonals around the entire thing. She takes his hand where he's a little in shock and slides it on his ring finger.

"Figured I was gonna have to be like my mama and propose first," she says with a grin before kissing him with all the epic intensity he's used to from her in high spirits.

He does remember to move Hershel's watch to safety, but it's a near thing.

~*~ AF ~*~

Abraham takes another look around the little apartment. It's a cute enough place, if they were the couple Rosita wants them to be. But the more time he's spent behind these walls, seeing how the people here stay safe and _grow_ without ignoring the reality of the devastated world outside, the more he knows he's got to end this. He knew it the first night he spent in this place with her, but actually breaking it off, he hasn't found the words or courage for.

Today was probably the hardest day he's faced since he found what was left of Ellen and the kids' bodies. All the happy families, preparing for a holiday that a month ago he thought no one would celebrate again. He can't begrudge them any of that, because he's addicted to glimpses of the dozens of little kids laughing or one of the pregnant women being pampered by anyone within touching distance.

He hasn't brought himself to interact with the small children yet. The ache's still so very raw within him. So, he's doing his part in making the world safer for them where he failed for his own family.

The older veterinarian asking him to take a walk today was unexpected. He knows, logically, he can't be the only man here with losses, even losses this big. But to hear Hershel speak of losing not one wife, but two, and his son as well, it resonated with that hollow part of him that thinks this isn't survivable. The man put his life back together twice.

He doesn't know if it's religious faith that helped him overcome, or the ties of living children, or just an innate strength of character in Hershel Greene that Abraham himself seems to lack. But after an hour spent just listening to calm tales of the ones the man's loved and lost, he was finally able to talk himself.

It took him two hours to stop.

Sitting here, alone, with his things packed in a duffle and a key for one of the small singles in his pocket, he can almost feel their ghosts around him. Ellen. Becca. AJ.

Sharing their stories, their lives, with another human being for the first time since they died finally gave him the first relief from the clawing grief. Sex, alcohol, killing whatever dead bastard he can reach, even the false mission with Eugene... none of those gave him the fragment of peace he's finally got in his grasp.

He breathes in, feeling the pain lessen for the first time in months.

But he's still a coward when it comes to ending this with Rosita, which is why he's taking advantage of her watching a movie at the community center to slip back here and pack. He should leave a note, not just let her find his things gone, but what the hell can he say that makes this godawful part better for her?

Talking with Hershel today, he can admit he loves her. He loves her fire and her willingness to fight even impossible odds for one more day. But he isn't _in_ love with her, and the longer he lets this continue, the more of a bastard he is.

He hesitates too long, because the door clicks open and she comes in. He's sitting on the bed, that battered duffle unmistakably packed, and she doesn't want to believe it. He can see that in her face before she ever speaks.

"Were you waiting for me to get back or were you going to sneak away?" she asks hoarsely.

He doesn't bother to lie to her. "Didn't move fast enough."

"Why?" He can hear the tears in her voice and it bites into his resolve.

"It happens. It's how it's got to be."

"You can't be serious."

"As serious as a heart attack." He stands and shoulders the duffle as she comes closer, stepping to block his way out of the apartment.

"No. You don't leave until you tell me why." And she's crying now, hitting his chest as if she can fight whatever it is between them that is causing him to leave. "After everything, we've been through, you tell me _why_."

And since he doesn't think he can feel like any worse shit than any of this will leave him, he tells her the truth. "When I first met you, you were what I needed. I thought you were the last woman on Earth. You're not."

He is in no way a good man anymore, but the look of devastation on her face ensures he knows that without a doubt.

But he's gentle when he pries her hands away from his shirt and sits her on the bed.

Then he starts to leave her alone and crying to deal with the cruel truth he never should have shared.

"Abraham."

He stops, because he owes her that much.

"Fuck you."

He nods, accepting her words, when he deserves harsher, and leaves.

As he walks through the crisp night to his new room, he wonders if she realizes yet the fault's in him and not her.

~*~ RG ~*~

Rick figures if he doesn't get up and say something, the banging at the place next door is going to disturb more than just him. So, he pads to the door barefoot and opens it. "He's not home." He's a little harsh in tone, which he regrets when he sees Rosita's tear streaked face.

"Everything alright?" Well, ain't that a dumbass question to ask a crying woman. No wonder he ended up single.

She shakes her head slowly. "Do you know where he is?"

"He's taking the midnight watch shift tonight. Honey came and hustled him off a bit ago so she could go over the equipment with him before the previous shift ends."

Rosita wipes at her teary face. "Dear God. Please tell me that's at least a two-person shift?"

She sounds like she's trying to be amused despite her obvious upset.

"Yeah. Honey's been doing the midnight shift since her arm keeps her off most of the other jobs, while Joan took her spot on the building crew. Dunno if Shelby's staying on as a third watchman tonight or it's just the two of them. You might check. If you really needed him."

"Dammit." She sighs and stares at the door as if she wants to kick it.

"Don't think he locks it either, if you needed to be somewhere other than your place." After Abraham's problems the first day the Texans were here, Rick's actually a little worried, but he senses she's more tearful and pissed than anything worse. "Seen Honey barge right in with some project or another she was looping him into, even when he wasn't there."

He thinks she's thinking about it, but she shakes her heard.

"Listen. It's not my business, why you needed him tonight..."

She interrupts. "Abe moved out. Couldn't just sit there and stare at the walls. Didn't figure Carol would appreciate me starting a late-night bonfire with our bedsheets either."

Oh. Well, that makes sense, he supposes. No one who's watched the couple actually expected them to last. Only Rosita seemed to not see the disconnect the big redhead has from their relationship.

"Well, you're right that Carol wouldn't appreciate a bonfire. But if you're just stuck on not being alone." He hesitates and she straightens, more alert. "Was watching reruns on DVD. You're welcome to join me." He's off tomorrow, and he remembers Shane spending half the damn night watching crap TV with him after he and Lori split, and that was mutual.

He thinks she's going to refuse, but then she asks, "What show?"

"Law and Order." Yeah, he's a cop admitting he's watching a cop show. He's man enough to admit it's ninety percent because of Benson.

"Which one?"

"SVU."

"The only one worth reruns." And she smiles brightly enough that he can almost forget the evidence she's been crying. "I know there's beer about the place. You party to any actually drinkable?"

He laughs. "Yeah, got a few bottles tonight." The amusement of handing off that Blue Balls beer out to work on her too, right? He steps back so she can enter, offering her the chair and a beer before sitting cross-legged in the middle of his (thankfully made) bed to restart the episode. She's as snarky as him about the parts the drama doesn't get right, and he enjoys the company and hopes she does as well.

She falls asleep in the recliner two episodes in, so he covers her with a spare blanket after tugging it out so it's at least reclined. He ought to offer her the bed, but waking her seems cruel and she'll probably refuse. Then she'll be back to that apartment where she wants to burn the bedsheets and alone. He shelves the chivalrous impulse and puts himself to bed.

Abraham is a damned stupid man, he thinks as he falls asleep.

A/N: The story is now at 59 chapters and 320k on Ao3. We still haven't reached baby Judith's arrival... so total, maybe 500k. 😊


	41. The Herd

**November 26, 2010**

~*~ RG ~*~

"Rise and shine, pretty boy."

Rick rolls over, taking a minute to remember his overnight visitor. She's got the little table folded down and a pair of the carryout boxes from the community center on it, along with what he hopes is coffee.

"Can't say I don't appreciate breakfast brought to me, but why?"

"It's a thank you for sharing your beer and recliner for the night."

The apartment isn't designed for a full two-person table, so the table actually folds down across the recliner and the other chair folds and stashes away. He fetches his own seat, while she digs in to the apple pancakes she brought.

"You're welcome." He concentrates on the coffee, needing to clear his head from staying awake until one a.m. The clock shows it's seven a.m.

"I know you usually do the early run with your team, but you were sleeping pretty soundly even when Shane knocked."

Well, that explains how she knows he likes apple pancakes.

"What did he have to say?"

"Just said they figured on starting on the addition by eight and Daryl's teams are checking on the status of the herd Terminus reported since there's no sign yet."

And Glenn's teams are out on a Walmart run to the east today, so that puts Abraham off property for a while, maybe all day. Hopefully that's a good thing.

"You busy today?" He doesn't have the first clue how her schedule at the garage runs.

"Nope. No vehicles to check over since no one went out yesterday. Always something to tinker with, but nothing scheduled." She takes a big drink of coffee. "You recruiting help?"

He shrugs. "If you want. Be a small-scale way to see if you want to work on something like that."

"What's this addition about?"

"Scout's place is a literal one room cabin she used on leave from the Marines. Not really a baby friendly place."

"So, they're having a baby too?"

He realizes something got missed in introductions. "Shane's the father of Lori's baby."

"On purpose?"

He chokes on his coffee laughing. "No." He explains the convoluted ties between the baby's four parents... and himself.

"I think I saw a plot like that on a telenovela or two. You really this cool about seeing your ex-wife moving on so soon?"

"At first, not so much. But I can't see it as my ex-wife moving on. I see it as my son's mother being happy and thriving."

"He's a curious kid. Picks up concepts well at the garage when he comes to Jim's classes."

"He'll be there today, on loan from his building crew duty. He'll probably teach me a thing or two, since I've been almost exclusively on run team."

She finishes off the last of her pancakes and looks thoughtful. "Might as well at least come see how it's done, if you think I'll be welcome."

Rick laughs and gathers up their empty food containers. "I promise you that very few building projects turn down extra hands around here "

"I'll take the trash and leave you to get dressed." She flips the table back upright and clips it in place. After he says he'll meet her at the community center in ten minutes tops, she leaves him alone in the apartment.

He scratches at his beard a minute, laughing softly to himself. Shane's going to think he had a wild night, and the irony is that the first time he did stay all night with a woman, sex wasn't involved at all.

Funny part is, it feels just as good as the nights with Sasha and Katherine did.

Sasha was just the once, the former firefighter fantastically energetic, but they both agreed it was fun but not really a second time fun.

There's been several nights with Katherine, but she's got kids to get back to each time and a firm rule against men in her place. But the casual, couple nights a week arrangement works well enough even if he knows she has no long-term interest in a man his age.

Maybe he's reached the point of actually wanting to date again, but a woman hours post breakup is probably not the best choice for that, so he pushes away the spark of interest and goes to get dressed.

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle takes position atop the Eldridge wall facing south. Daryl's teams had found the herd, which for the first time wasn't veering off to the northwest. They worked to thin the numbers from air rifle perches atop the modified buses, even split off close to seventy to follow them northwest and away from the property.

But that still leaves at least three hundred walkers headed toward Homestead. While Merle's put together teams atop the walls made from recycled and reinforced storage containers stacked two high, Scout's got six of her teams outside the walls.

The big military vehicles they collected are proving their worth, thinning the herd even as they lure them toward Homestead instead of away.

"Got them sighted," comes the walkie notice from the end of the fence line closest to the thicket. Carol's voice is strong and confident from her position. She's got one of the female Guardsmen with her along with Sophia and Beth. They'll do well.

Then he can see the big military truck trundling slowly off road. In the carefully rigged back, three shooters are felling walkers with a steady rhythm of air rifle shots. Another truck is to the west, doing the same.

He estimates around two hundred walkers still. Not every walker falls to a headshot from a pellet, so one of each wall team has a regular rifle. When he raises his Remington and fires, it's the signal for the rest to begin.

With new, noisy lures at the wall, the trucks do a U-turn to loop back and work the sides of the herd along with the four other trucks.

Between the eighteen shooters outside the walls and Merle's forty on the wall, it takes under an hour to destroy the threat.

Easy part is done. Now comes the clean-up, because while piling dead walkers in wooded areas away from water sources in towns away from them to allow them to finally decompose and return to the earth, no one wants that near Homestead. Whatever keeps them from rotting away while mobile seems to make them rot away twice as fast after their second death.

This many dead on the ground is all hands-on deck. He orders Carol's and Honey's wall teams to stay in place on watch, and the rest gear up to help load the two semi-trailers that are the least roadworthy. He's just glad they've got plenty of the disposable hazmat suits, because no one wants to decontaminate this many.

They're still careful. Scout's three teams in their heavy military gear flow across the field methodically giving each body on final "head shot" using two-tine hay forks.

Taking them down took less than an hour from the wall. Loading them up takes six hours. Daryl's teams return and act as escorts for the two semi drivers as they take them down to one of the landfills outside Atlanta.

~*~ EP ~*~

Eugene is grubby and tired. They don't stand watch after the decimation of the herd for the full six hours, switching out three hours in. He didn't really mind being conscripted by Honey for her team and neither of the two teenage girls she also snagged seem to care she spent the first ten minutes giving him instructions more than firing the sleek little Ruger.

But once she decided he had it down pat, she stretched out prone and decimated her targets. He finds the Marauder air rifle much less worrisome than the other firearms he's been exposed to, and he finds she was right about the .25 pellets doing the job on most of the walkers. Those that do manage to survive the pellets don't survive the sharpshooters.

As they make their way to grab showers before taking supper duty for the folks who just took the wall watch, he eyes her rifle.

"For security like today, where noise is less of an issue, would you use it more if there was more ammunition?"

"Sure. I know some shooters that loaded their own, but I never got that far into it. Supposed to be better and cheaper if you target shoot a lot. We do collect up gun powder and supplies, but no one's done anything with it yet. And we probably have more ammo than we'll use up since we use the air rifles so much, but it's not an infinite supply."

"Do you think anyone would object to setting up a shop? I am fully certain I can pull it off."

"Have you loaded ammo before?"

He shakes his head. "I have observed the process and was given enough instruction I would feel confident in trying. One of my co-workers was a fanatic about hunting and demonstrated for those of us who attended a holiday party at his house. I found it an interesting process from a scientific viewpoint."

She's mulling over what he said as they reach the space between their buildings. "I'm sure they'll be interested in giving it a try, if we have the right supplies. We can ask Shane tonight."

That's acceptable to him, so he hands her air rifle back to her as they part ways.

"Hey, Eugene?"

He pauses at his door and looks across to where she's got her own open.

"Remind me to get you something issued. Safer if you're armed at home at least in some way and you did damn good today."

She's smiling and doesn't wait for a reply before disappearing.

It's a heady feeling to be contributing in a way that isn't a lie.

~*~ MD ~*~

It's dark when the disposal teams return, sunset well before supper now and everyone cycles through the showers down near the gate.

He meets Daryl there and walks back, while others shuffle the buses over near the warehouses for morning unloading. The younger man is yawning.

"You could've skipped the pick-up run."

"Was right there. Didn't want today to be a total waste on gas."

Merle understands, since everyone has a sense of a deadline where heavy use of the vehicles is concerned. "Glenn's teams made two trips out and back to the Walmart."

"Was kinda wondering today if maybe we should go further out east and north, while we still can. Closer stuff could be hauled in by wagon if needed."

"Can bring it up at council. Got a meeting before supper." He's probably right. Fuel's limited, even of they've stored more than they'll probably use before its lifespan runs out. There are plans to grow biofuel crops, but no one wants to see them as a guarantee for longer trips.

The warehouses are full to bursting right now, with plenty of overflow stored in semi-trailers awaiting more permanent space. Most of it is food, although two of the big steel buildings are non-food products. There's years worth of food, even with their current population. They even traded a truckload of food within months of best by dates to Terminus for help with clearing military sites in Marietta.

But the thing they haven't tackled yet is the large distribution centers that people from those areas have noted. Oliver, the retired truck driver, was a wealth of information on where large-scale warehouses are located. Two are well within range, both grocery. With winter weather unpredictable, Daryl's suggest makes even more sense. The food stores from the Walmart distribution center and the Whole Foods one will make their current stock look like child's play if they stayed intact.

So far, their experience indicates that the larger the building, the less likely it is to be raided, especially with any sort of walker population round. It's a sad testament to just how few people are left anymore. Information stragglers into Terminus brought fits what Homestead's population reports, and Merle's near certain that Homestead is the largest community left in the state of Georgia now, hovering at two hundred souls. Terminus is just over sixty, and the asshole they haven't located yet is head of a similar sized place. His would be larger, maybe, if he wasn't gunning down groups randomly.

Like Scout and Shane, Merle will be far more settled once winter's past and they can make inroads into locating that bastard who sent killers after old folks.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol only half listens as Hershel reads off the council notices midway through supper. Everyone's tired but strangely energetic. She thinks that being able to successfully take down such a large influx of walkers gives everyone a confidence boost. Granted, there was plenty of warning to be on the lookout for that herd, thanks to their neighbors to the south, but even the inside and outside wall patrols revealed nothing out of the ordinary around any of the properties.

One outside team found a stray pair of walkers, but after checking pockets, they weren't related to the herd that drifted up from the Atlanta area. Just the usual strays down from northern areas.

A lot of their northern safety is due to the two marshals. After they fought their way through Chattanooga, they blocked off the only two bridges left standing after the military evacuations brought a large part of the population north of the river before they blew up Highway 27 and its neighboring bridges. They were more successful in bombing there than Atlanta. They hadn't just used napalm there, and the south side of the river is a virtual wasteland of shattered buildings that Rachel described as looking like something out of a warzone.

Carol supposes that's exactly what it was, in the end. It didn't save them. Those refugee camps fell just like all the others.

The change in run schedules draws attention, and she smothers a laugh as table residents shift almost automatically for all the team leaders to cluster at a table.

Scout's loud "son of a bitch" followed by laughter ends with her high fiving Rosita at the next table.

Merle looks confused, but the rest of the team leaders are laughing and now Jim, Rosita, and all three adult Eldridges both are being drawn into some sort of a debate.

"Any idea what that's all about?" she asks.

He shrugs. "With mechanics drawn in? I'm guessing something about the fuel issue. Runs fall under your need-to-know. Could go have a listen."

It's still hard to remember sometime that she's entitled to join in on meetings like this, if she wants. Normally, Scout's so efficient in reporting to her that she doesn't have to.

So, she wanders down a table and looks at the rapidly scribbled notes taking place.

"A lot of excitement happening down here," she greets Daryl. He's not part of the chatter or notetaking, so she doesn't feel she's interrupting.

"Rosita just reminded Scout of a fuel source. Military uses jet fuel in all diesel applications overseas, so they only have to have one type of fuel," he explains.

"And will it last longer than the regular fuel?"

"From what I'm overhearing, yeah, because it's stored with additives and retested periodically to treat the fuel."

She thinks it over. "And there's that abandoned airbase, just sitting there." They cleared out munitions and other useful supplies, but no one really messed with the airfield itself. They don't even use the helicopter they have here, other than periodic maintenance checks and a couple of small flights from a property twenty miles away to keep it air worthy. It's too attention grabbing.

"Not to mention air strips and raceways. They use jet fuel in race cars."

"And here you worried about fuel, Pookie," she teases. He makes a face at her but she wanders back down to Merle and relays to the information to her curious tablemates.

Hershel looks thoughtful. "Ready to expand your warehouses, Merle?"

Merle chuckles. "Gonna need more space if they keep on at this rate."

"Could we store off-site? Close by, but not actually on the property? It would let your team get ahead on fencing and building." Carol's itching to have a map in her hands, even though she's nearly got it memorized.

"What about the chicken houses? Cleaning them out would be a nasty job if the owners didn't set the birds free," Honey suggests, and her grimace shows she remembers just such a scenario on runs. "Eastons' place got caught between deliveries, so theirs would be clear, and they fenced their property after that coyote problem they started having last year."

"And hidden enough no one would really find it if they weren't looking for it."

"Can't back the semi-trailers in there though. Put some gravel down, unload pallets... could work at least to make it through the winter. Canned goods don't really need another Georgia summer on them. That'd give us time to build on one of the other properties. Four houses, twenty thousand square feet each... probably handle whatever at the two food centers that survived no electricity all summer. Otherwise, we're going to start ending up with a lot of pig food from the heat."

Carol can understand that. They taste test canned goods, just in case. It's not that the food's bad after Georgia's August heat cycle, but the taste is sometimes barely edible. Some of the really unrecoverable ones end up with the pigs or the dogs, so it doesn't go to waste either way. Retrieving as much as they can from the two distribution centers will put them in heated areas for the winter, since freezing's not really that great for canned goods either, and the glass jars would probably end up shattered on some items.

She pulls out her notebook and smiles as she begins to make notes, leaving a week for the fuel trips she knows they're going to want to do first, although one day is set aside for the school equipment run. Then the week after, those two distribution centers are theirs, should they have survived the world ending. The distribution trips might end up overnight ones, which is a different level of planning. She'll have to see what the first teams out there think.

These are the types of problems she likes to have.

~*~ DD ~*~

One of the stores they stopped on the disposal return gained him a lot of knowing smiles when they checked it was clear.

He hides away the rest of the contents of the backpack that Christopher dropped by the cabin, since that's for her birthday.

The honey-based lollipops he gathered are in twelve different flavors for her to try. These she can keep with her through the day, tucked away in pockets. Well, all but the coffee ones. Those he put away for later.

He leaves them in a basket on her side of the bed and goes to help her settle Abby to bed. She's reading to Abby and Carl, chapters of a book about living clay dragons that fascinates the young teenager as much as the girl. Jazz keeps sharing his vast collection with Abby.

They reach the end of a chapter and Abby exchanges a look with Carl. "Could we make clay dragons?" the girl asks.

Daryl looks to Lori. Carving wood and bone, he knows. Clay is not a medium he's ever worked with, unless you count Play-Doh, and he suspects Abby means something more durable.

She thinks it over and nods. "We have clay in the art supplies. We can try it tomorrow afternoon after Carl and I finish the laundry shift."

"Can I help?"

"You certainly can." Lori kisses her forehead. "Especially since your dad has a big run planned."

"I wish I could go on the speedway runs, at least one," Carl says.

Daryl understands the lure. Racing isn't likely to be a sport again at the level it was before, not with motorsports. He wonders idly if Lori would consider a moped for him. She didn't object to him driving the Polaris under Jazz's guidance, and part of his week involves checking on animals at the horse farm, usually paired with Beth.

"Let's see how they go before we decide anything," he cautions. The boy looks to his mother, who smiles in agreement, so he hugs her tightly before giving his goodnights to Abby and Daryl.

Abby demands her own goodnight hugs and kisses, snuggling down in the bottom bunk easily. He still marvels at the progress she's made from nearly mute back to the cheerful child he remembers. Lori leaves the room first, and Daryl raises a finger to indicate a secret to Abby before slipping two of the honey pops on her little nightstand.

"Mama has some?"

"A whole basketful, so no need for you to share, Sunshine."

"She's gonna be real happy."

The gift earns him an extra kiss before he turns off her light and heads for his own room. Lori's perched on the bed with the basket, sorting through them with a bemused smile.

"I don't think I've ever eaten a honey lollipop before, much less a blueberry one."

"You'll have to let me know how tasty they are."

He's tugging his shirt off when he hears the rattle of a wrapper and grins. The actual surprise is on his return to bed, when she crooks a finger at him. The lollipop flavored kiss is now going to be his favorite way to share.

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane stands looking at the addition, which got a lot further underway than he expected with the herd finally appearing. They got all the framing up, so in addition to the foundation already there, he can really start to visualize it. He sees Scout eyeing him from the doorway with a wry smile and flicks off the floodlight to join her inside.

"You look sadder than I do about the place getting bigger."

"Maybe I was being down about not being able to lay in bed and watch you shower anymore."

"Suppose you'll just have to join me in the shower. At least the new one won't make us both have to worry about the showerhead being a concussion risk."

The end decision on the bathroom is that it's being yanked out and replaced, so they'll actually end up with a small bathtub/shower combo much like Daryl and Lori have. It also means they'll be relying on the public showers for a few days or even a week while it's replaced. He's counting himself lucky he'll only be doing tilework, since Merle already offered the plumbing work as part of teaching Sophia and Carl more about it.

"I suppose that is a perk." He teases her into a kiss and aims her back toward the bed. He's tired from a day spent lifting rotting walkers, and he's grateful for both the disposable hazmat suits and the sheets donated to the cause of lifting bodies so no one had to make extended contact with the walkers. But he's not so tired that he's not up for giving her a massage, because she's been favoring that damned left shoulder since they left the disposal site.

She's more than happy to shed clothes and stretch out. He reaches for the coconut oil that helps her scarred skin flex and begins to work it in across all her muscles, remembering the lessons she's given him on how to go about it.

"Tomorrow's the ultrasound," she says drowsily. "Isn't she like the size of a head of lettuce now?"

He laughs softly at the seemingly random thought when he honestly thought she was asleep.

"Yeah, that's what the book says. And that she can smile and open her eyes."

"Daryl says he can hear the heartbeat by ear now."

It might be the one real heartache about the pregnancy, missing things like that. He doesn't think Lori would say no, or Scout would care, but the casual day-to-day of the baby's development is something he and Scout are on the outside of in many ways. But there's only three more months before everyone can participate in the baby's care.

"Cricket says we gotta do infant CPR with her by Christmas." It's a refresher for him and new training for Scout.

She makes a sound he thinks would be laughter if she wasn't so tired and relaxed. "You know half that is so we can watch Christian overnight. She's hinting we can practice."

"Sounds like fun to me, although I don't think he's anything like I remember Carl being as a newborn. Hell, Carl wasn't that sweet even at nine months." Carl was an active kid who hated to sleep with all the passion and tantrums a baby could throw. Christian, on the other hand, regular takes naps on whoever's holding him in the middle of community meals. Part of him hopes a little that the new baby will aim more for that end of the spectrum.

"Cricket didn't like to sleep and neither did Honey. But Jazz, that kid was a pro at napping. Found him asleep half in, half out of his toy box once when he was two. Daryl found him asleep on the potty another time. He just got tired and slept wherever he was."

"That explains one of those pictures on the birthday video." He distinctly remembers a shot of tiny Jazz asleep inside the toy box, all the toys scattered outside except a stuffed Elmo doll. "And how he slept sitting up in the bus aisle on the way up here."

He directs her to roll over so he can work on her shoulders and back. She sprawls under him and loses track of the conversation in a series of sleepy, happy noises that make him smile.

Once she's fully asleep, he places a kiss between her shoulder blades and tugs the blankets over her. He's tired, but not quite sleepy, so he snags a book and settles beside her.

The fact that he spends as much time watching her sleep as reading is one that makes him really content.


	42. Terminus, Part 1

A/N: Warning for all the ugly, horrific things that happen when lawless men take over a camp. Uses TWD canon for off-camera rape/murder of Terminus residents.

**December 11, 2010**

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane shivers a little as he follows Scout up the path to the community center. Despite the temperature hovering at freezing, a good-sized group of them showed up for this morning's run and PT. But after a shower and changing into his clothes for the day, he's losing that extra warmth from exercise.

"Should put your hat on," Scout teases, smiling back at him. Her own dark hair is covered by a camo watch cap pulled snugly down over her ears. She's even wearing a balaclava around her neck, although it's pulled down into the collar of her coat to leave her face exposed.

His hat and balaclava are in his pocket, because he didn't want to put them on, just to take them back off for breakfast. They're not going off-property today, since they already did an extra run yesterday for the distribution center. Today's set as a "let's get this addition done by Christmas" day for them. The colder weather has meant no one really wants to work after dark, and with the push to get the distribution centers plus a few choice locations found nearby each cleared out, they've been past dark each day getting free of duties.

He's just glad the bulk of the fuel runs are done, although teams will spin out to the speedways and more remote air strips and airports as they can. The amount of fuel in sealed 55-gallon drums is a little breathtaking, especially since paperwork they found says some of it is good for at least two years. Eugene got drawn in with Gage and Lenore Eldridge on coming up with a larger scale production for biodiesel and even ethanol is being tossed around.

They've gone from worrying about fuel to wondering if the fuel will outlast their ability to repair vehicles. Once they start scouting new areas again, Jim's given them a list of older vehicles to keep an eye out for that will be easier to repair. Shane's just happy the mechanics seem to be of the attitude if Henry Ford could manage vehicles in his era, they can come up with something too. He's not looking forward to horses and mules being their mode of transport.

He's not the only person dashing up to the community center without hat or gloves, and there's a pretty good line to hang outerwear on the hooks along one outside wall. Scout grins and cups her warm hands over his freezing ears and steals a kiss.

He sticks with the oatmeal and a side of sausage for a hot meal. He's not sure what meat is worked into the sausage at this point. Could be anything wild game or loose livestock at this point. While all the teams make their best effort to rescue livestock, as winter sets in and animals move more, they're starting to realize a lot more critters survived than expected, so Hershel's put some on the hunting list for now. Hershel estimates the numbers will thin down quite a bit over the winter, as weaker ones used to human care die off or become prey to larger predators. Walkers will probably kill off the smaller animals if they can overwhelm them, but after an afternoon spent chasing chickens loose on a property, Shane's starting to understand the amount of loose poultry in Georgia now.

But the most impressive site was arriving at the Walmart distribution center in Monroe to find _water buffalo_ grazing near town. They discovered why when they went exploring to find a biodiesel place supposed to be in town, and down the road... the exotic farm that released their animals before evacuating. Water buffalo and alpacas roam the area as if they own it, and Shane supposes by this point, they do.

The most entertaining part is watching the water buffalo take down a trio of walkers who thought them fair game. Shane certainly wouldn't want to challenge the feisty bastards. Hershel put a firm "no" down over the radio when asked if they should round any up. They did catch a couple alpaca to add to the pair already on the horse farm, and the hunting teams took down a water buffalo to test viability for food, because no one ever had the meat before except Scout.

They are just about done with breakfast when the new radios issued last week to everyone issue an alert... only to council members' units, asking them to report to the watch.

He's never heard Dale's voice that rattled, not even during the confrontation with Scout about Ed's fate. The fact that he's not clearing the message where most of the community can overhear is equally disturbing.

It's probably the fastest the six of them have ever crossed the distance to the little container building that houses their watch.

Dale looks as white as a ghost. Beside him, Amalia Sanchez isn't much better, and he knows the woman has nerves of steel.

"Terminus has been taken over," Dale manages. "They brought in a group recently, not sure on details, and they took over yesterday. They staged a riot last night and managed to get Alex over the fence. It took him until now to find a working radio to get through to us. He's waiting."

Merle reaches for the CB radio indicated by Dale. "Alex. Dixon here. Tell us what we need to know to come get your people."

The reply is garbled, and Shane wonders if it's injury or emotion. Probably both. "Twenty men. They killed probably a third of us the night they took over, especially men. They've got the men in the rail cars." The next sound is a definite sob. "Not sure if more died last night, or if they'll just wish they're dead."

"Where are you, Alex?" Merle's voice is probably the kindest Shane's ever heard it speaking to someone outside his family.

"Kennesaw Mountain Battlefield. Figured one of the work trucks here might have a working CB and wouldn't draw walkers to start it up."

"You safe until we get there? Enough fuel to stay warm?"

"Yeah. I figure if they were going to come after me, it would have happened long before I got here."

"Stay put. Gonna send the medical in to get you, so look for a big ass mobile medical to come wandering in. Rest of us will bypass to see what we can do to get your people free."

"Leader's got a bunch of facial tattoos. So do a few others."

"Alright. Stay safe. We'll be there inside two hours. Alert Dale here if anything changes."

Merle lays the CB mike down and turns to the others waiting. "I don't imagine this is even up for discussion." The prevailing expression of the rest of the council is of the 'no shit' variety.

Scout shifts her weight. "I'll go get the teams started. Carol, can your folks have us fully geared in half an hour?"

"Less." The grey-haired woman's expression is foreboding. "How many teams are going?"

"I'll leave two experienced teams here, but I'm taking an equal number that aren't usually in the field, plus a medical team that needs to be geared up. Forty-four. Full firearms, no air rifles, everyone in body armor."

The two women plan as they walk, with Shane and Merle listening in. He knows Merle will lead one of the teams out, but he isn't sure yet who Scout's leaving behind and isn't going to interrupt. Carol splits off at the community center, Tyreese following.

Everyone's on full alert when they return. "Terminus has been attacked. Jim, I need you to take a half dozen of your teens down to ready the big Humvees, all four of them plus two of the M35s. Pull the med unit out to go too."

The man doesn't even wait for any more instructions from Scout, tapping several of the teenagers who cycle through the garage as he heads for the door.

"Daryl, you and Quinton are staying behind with your teams. Lock it down and assume _anyone_ approaching the fences is unfriendly. Terminus doesn't know our exact location, but they know enough to be careful. I'm leaving you Morales too, and Christopher's going with the med team. That's Cricket, Caleb, and Miriam. Denova, you're on my team today."

With the shuffle, she just left all three males with an expectant 'wife' behind. He hopes she doesn't have any such ideas about leaving him behind.

"All color teams, Hawkeye, Dasher, Rudolph, and Warden. Full firearms, no air rifles. If you don't have one on issue, get one issued before you load up. Merle and Bryce will each take a team in. If they grab you, get geared up."

"Are we going to need to bring them here?" Patricia asks.

"We don't know yet, but let's prepare for that possibility."

From the time of those words, it takes them less than an hour to be in the vehicles and on the road. He and Scout are in the lead Humvee, their teams and two of Merle's in the troop seats in the back. Other than the lack of rank on everyone's uniform, it could be a scene out of any footage he's seen on TV of troop transport. When Scout said full gear, it meant down to the helmets.

Now to see if their double numbers are enough to take down twenty assholes who took advantage of neighborly kindness.

~*~ MD ~*~

The hardest part of this waiting is knowing Scout and Tim are inside the damn compound with only each other for backup. They're the only two with any kind of recon experience, even if they do have several military or former military who've seen real combat. The only men in view, guards half drunk on duty, are down and hogtied with zip ties. He's not sure either will be getting back up after the pair inside pressed stun guns to the base of their skulls and jolted them. One man's having a seizure as Merle watches.

There aren't enough of the bandits to patrol the fence, and he's not sure the bastards are even trying. He's back here with forty invaders and they haven't begun to notice. They aren't expecting anyone to come to the rescue.

When the signal comes, Merle and Tyreese peel back the fence they already cut to let everyone inside.

Tim's above on a rail car, perched and ready. Merle prays the sniper's as good as he seems to be. No one wants friendly fire today.

Maggie follows his lead, taking a perch at the further end. Jacqui and Sasha also take position. With half his team up top, Glenn leads Jacqui's team to take up positions to alert the prisoners help is coming. They are safer in the rail cars for now.

The throat radio activates again as most of the teams spread out to take covered positions. Shane gives the all clear the teams he's leading are in place on the far side of the building and Jamie's teams are as well on their side.

Scout begins her report from the damned attic crawlspace in the main building.

"I got eyes on eleven men in various states of drunk. None with tattoos on the face. Careful at the south entrance. Got two women in the room to the left with three men. Men aren't friendlies."

"Can't get a clear sight line, but there's at least one in the RV closest to the building. I'm betting the rest are spread out in the RVs." Tim's voice has the same flat inflection as Scout's.

"Move in to cover the RVs," Merle orders, and his four teams adjust to cover any exit from the RVs.

On Shane's count, the teams at the building take down both doors with a booming efficiency that would make SWAT teams envious.

~*~ SW ~*~

Years of police training kick in and he's glad of Rick by his side. Just two teams enter from each side, leaving the third to cover the rear. There's gunfire from another room as soon as they enter, followed by a meaty thud.

Only two of the assholes get their guns raised in the main room, and only one of those fires off a shot. It hits Tanaka in the chest and knocks him down, but Carlos signals the armor held up.

He runs a mental count as Jamie clears the door between the two big rooms. Three dead, one bleeding. Bryce's team gets that one zip-tied and the other three's permanent death double checked.

Jamie nods toward the open door in his room. "She's checking on the women with Sally and Candace. Got two breathing in here."

Gunfire erupts outside, but it's erratic. The unknowns in the RVs must be trying to emerge.

Scout appears. She's favoring her side, where a very distinctive pattern of a gunshot impact ruins her uniform. But she's alive and moving so he pushes away the flashbacks of Rick being shot.

"Try the north side to get behind them," comes Merle's request. "We got at least four livelies, but it's whack a mole right now. Only got one on the ground."

And no way of knowing if they have hostages.

"Karen, you and Shepherd's teams stay here. Keep the women safe and shoot any of the prisoners who give you reason to." Scout looks to Tanaka. "You good?" The ex-cop nods, although he's moving like Scout from rib impact.

And Shane follows her into the next stage, hoping none of these bastards start trying for head shots and thanking his lucky stars so many shooters train to torso shots with pistols. It's a mental override he's taken months to overcome in target practice.

"Make that two on the ground, but that one's yowling like a cat in heat."

"Ladies inside think there's eight out here," Scout reports. "But they probably have women with them."

The thought of why the women are there makes Shane's blood boil as hotly as Scout's gone to ice.

Not enough of their people have practice shooting through glass, but that doesn't matter much for T-Dog at the first RV. One of the entrapped women is taking advantage of her captor's distraction and scrambling out the emergency window. With that open, T-Dog shoots down the hallway, hitting the man center mass in the back twice.

The woman looks frantically around, choosing to take cover with Maria and avoiding the men. At Shane's signal, Maria hurries the woman toward the already secure building. T-Dog goes through the window to ensure the man's dead. He didn't check for a pulse before slamming his knife through the man's skull. Shane's not about to say a word.

T-Dog's target makes five down out here. If the women inside are correct, there's three more. Scout signals going to the far end with her team. Shane nods and his team goes to the next RV.

There's a woman huddled in the bedroom. He taps at the window and wishes Maria wasn't the only woman on his team. But his reassurances work and she fumbles her way to freedom as Maria returns. She takes this one as well. There's no one in the RV when Rick levers inside. He locks the door for good measure and comes back out the window.

The next RV is empty of men, and this victim can't escape. She turns even as they tap, and Shane takes the shot through glass to put her to rest.

"Can we feed them to walkers, the ones just wounded?" Maria asks as she rejoins them at the next RV.

Shane thinks she has a good idea going there.

The two women inside aren't trying for the window because the bandit is pacing the hallway. One is doing her best to keep her body in front of the other. This bandit is long haired, bearded, with complex facial tattoos.

Shane wishes for a larger caliber gun as he fires. The women scream, but when his target goes down cursing, the protective one goes for the emergency release on the shattered window. She gets the other woman shoved out of the window before the wounded man manages a shot when neither Shane nor Rick can take aim.

The woman falls through the busted window, and Shane isn't sure which wound is the worst: the gunshot or the glass slicing into her skin. Maria and Rick go to work with first aid kits, while the other woman actually huddles into T-Dog's bulk.

"Get her inside and send Zach," Shane orders. He shoots the fucker in the shoulder before climbing through. A head shot is too clean, too easy. He zip-ties the man. Either he'll bleed to death, suffering as he does, and end up a hogtied walker, or he'll live to answer to Scout's less than considerate questioning methods.

Zach's working frantically, throat radio abandoned for ham radio contact with Caleb, Cricket, and Christopher. The doctor confirms he's entering the camp with more gear while the other two wait to bring the med unit.

He considers going forward with just him and Rick, but Scout's team is meeting them in the middle.

"One bolted out front. The other's dead by his own captive. Left his belt knife in her reach while he tried to shoot out the door," she reports. Tanaka and Denova are leading four women toward where they've sent the others.

Watching Zach work makes him feel helpless despite the day's rescues. They can only pray Caleb can work his magic.

"Let the prisoners out of the rail cars now. Glenn, yours and Ryan's teams come help us sweep the property."

Shane allows himself a brush of hands with Scout as they pass to join the sweep teams. Caleb reaches his patient and eases her onto a backboard with Zach's help.

Eighteen dead or immobile. Time to make sure no rats are lurking.

~*~ GR ~*~

With everything that's happened, Glenn's only ever killed walkers. When his team finds the shed and the man begging surrender, he accepts and zip ties his hands. But when they find the barely breathing woman inside the unheated shed, no one stops him.

He honestly thought he would feel more the first time he took a human life.

Then again, what he shot was less human than the walkers roaming their world.

It's his job to kill the monsters now, after all.

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle opens the gate for the med unit to roll in, but they're already breaking cover on both Terminus and Homestead. Without the helicopter, the woman Glenn found and the woman shot by the bandit leader might not make it. They need surgery and equipment they don't have here.

Welles is already in the air with the Huey turned ambulance and Felipe on board. He'll be down and back before they can get halfway there.

He only made one trip by Terminus, to install solar panels, and the grim nature of the rail yard camp didn't appeal to him then. Now, with the devastation of the bandit takeover, it has a haunted air that reminds him of Iraq and Panama.

Gareth, out of his rail car prison, gives them a headcount of sixty-eight before the bandit group came in. Forty-one survived less than 48 hours under a madman's control, and at least two of those are critical. The bandits lost six of their original number between resistance and riot.

Five of the nineteen bandits still alive are still breathing, plus the leader. All are bleeding in the cold. Those of Terminus' survivors who want to watch are gathered as Scout and Shane work in tandem to question the leader.

Mary stands resolutely next to her sons. She's bruised and battered, but refused medical care other than steri-strips to hold together a gash in her cheek. Alex's arm's in a splint, broken in two places. He'll need surgery according to Cricket. Gareth looks like a horror movie extra, with only steri-strips holding him together until the medical personnel finish with his people.

"They aren't aware of any larger groups," Scout reports in. She's cleaning her hands with a disinfectant wipe and his heart aches to recognize her comfort with questioning techniques not legal on U.S. soil. He thinks there will always be a dark unknown about her time overseas.

"Will you let them live?" Alex asks, voice hoarse.

"No."

It's not an answer she'll take any objections to, Merle knows, but none of the Terminus witnesses object. It's like Grady all over again.

Shane adds, "He'll die of blood loss soon enough, probably the gut-shot one too."

That leaves two more shot bandits, one with a head injury, and one of the two tased men. The one having seizures earlier died before the camp was retaken. Merle hopes he was aware as he suffered.

"Let them bleed then," Mary intones. She looks to the walkers at the fences drawn by gunfire, and he wonders if she's considering feeding them to the dead while still alive. He isn't sure he would want to stop her.

"You can't stay here," he says, as gently as he can manage. He can't imagine anyone who survived this being able to sleep here ever again.

"You can't take us in." Gareth looks disbelieving. "Even what's left, there's no room."

"We can manage the room and we've got the supplies. But if you need to be on your own, we can offer refuge while we find a new place for your people. Away from the cities."

There's unspoken communication between the three leaders.

"We'll accept refuge until our people are healed."

"Good. Let's get everyone loaded up. Sooner we get everyone to Homestead, the safer we'll all feel."

The sound of the helicopter draws everyone's attention and Merle starts the logistics of getting forty plus damaged and suffering people on the road.

It'll be crowded, but there's no way they can leave proven good neighbors vulnerable. It's not who they are.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol's never been more grateful for her ongoing medical training - and hated it at the same time.

Of the forty-one survivors, twenty-one are females over sixteen, and of those, nineteen were raped at least once. She wants to be grateful none of the men were pedophiles, but who knows what would have happened if Alex hadn't gotten word to Homestead? As it is, the seven children witnessed too much of the violence and death.

Most of the rape victims refused treatment from any male medical personnel, so the hours after their arrival are a haze of exams, bloodwork, stitches, and setting broken bones for Carol, Cricket, Lilly, and Maggie. Other women are helping, but their skills are limited. Gentle Caleb took the three alert patients willing to see him, so long as a fully armed woman stood by. Michonne volunteered. Her gleaming katana seems to soothe the women she's overseeing.

The two women medflighted to Homestead are still unconscious post-surgery, patched together by Edwards and Hershel. The fact that the vet worked on the hypothermic, tortured woman without benefit of the little OR is impressive. His resemblance to Santa Claus with that pretty beard of his must help, because the woman reacted to all other males on the medical staff in terror. He's the only Homestead male in the little hospital ward, sitting at his patient's bedside. Edwards is off running labs and Carol suspects the man won't sleep tonight. Grady left its ghosts too.

The ten beds in here are full. Eight women and two men deemed needing a little more oversight. A few of them have a loved one in the chair next to the bed. Glynnis came through with blankets and pillows.

Carol goes to stop by Alex's bed. The surgery to repair his arm is a tentative success according to Edwards and Caleb, neither of which have done a bone repair before. He's asleep, too drugged up from painkillers to manage alertness even if the exhaustion of his run through the night to find a way to contact Homestead would let him stay awake. Mary's wrapped in the blankets she was given, gaze haunted as she watches over her younger son.

"I wanted to let you know before I leave that everyone else is settled in the two bunkhouse units in one of the buildings across the way. It's the one marked Pisces and they're in the two upstairs units." It's overcrowded, but Carol understands their willingness to share twin bunks versus spread out further than they have to with some of their people in the infirmary. They have RVs, but it only took one terrified look from one of the women for that plan to be firmly moved off the table. Even the container buildings give them pause, and she remembers that the men and children were locked into railcars. "If anyone needs anything to eat or drink, there's food and water bottles in the coolers Glynnis brought in."

They did similar for the two bunkhouses. She figures no one wants to wander the property just yet. Glynnis even has it planned to deliver box meals unless the Terminants want to venture into the community center for supper.

Mary nods, wincing as the movement pulls at the stitches in her face. "Gareth with them?"

"Yes. He met with Merle a while, working on some ideas for where a new settlement would go, until his wife was discharged."

"Wife works, I suppose. No ministers around to marry them now."

"We figured we decided on our own officiants here." She waves a hand towards Hershel. "He's ours. Just like the world a few hundred years ago. Witnesses and declaring yourselves is all we need here."

"That what you're doing?"

Carol's got her ring back on now, but it hung off the special chain through most of her time working. The antique ruby ring is gorgeous, but it isn't practical for half her everyday chores. Daryl brought her back a ring keeper necklace from a supply run. It's a hugely popular item for jewelry here now.

"On Christmas, we will. Low key for us, just a testament in front of the community. But the community has hosted a more traditional wedding before."

Mary pets Alex's hand, where Carol knows he wore a wedding band before Cricket splinted his arm in the med unit. She had to cut the ring off and returned it to his mother. Mary's voice is soft. "His wife didn't make it. Not sure how he'll live with that. But I think he'd like to see his brother married, before we leave this sanctuary. He's fond of Cynthia."

"Just tell Gareth to speak to Hershel. We'll take care of it."

Carol starts to leave, until Mary calls out her name softly. "Thank your people for coming for us. Gareth swore you would, but I wasn't sure Alex would make it or anyone would care until your Marine dropped out of that ceiling and started shooting those men. I just wish I reacted faster to knock the one out that shot at her before he managed it."

"You did a good job helping for no warning at all, Mary. She's grateful for it." She gives the woman her best smile. The man's first shot had been a chest shot, but if he managed to fire again, he might have hit something vulnerable. Mary hit the bastard hard enough with a candle holder she fractured his skull, even if he did live a few hours after. "We're all grateful for it."

"I don't know what we would have become if no one came."

"Maybe you should consider staying here. We can expand."

"I'll talk it over with the boys, and the others. If anyone wants to stay and we go, they'll be welcome, right?"

"With open arms."

Mary gives her a faint smile and turns back to the vigil of watching her son sleep.

~*~ LG ~*~

Lori's loading laundry into the machines with Carl's help when Daryl steps inside, back from an outside wall patrol. He's windblown and cold, but neither of them object when he plucks Abby off her perch on the folding table and wraps everyone into a hug. His team didn't go to Terminus, but they did help with the aftermath, and she saw Christopher join the patrol before it left out. The nurse looks like he took a personal journey to hell and left half his soul there.

Considering what she suspects happened at Terminus based on all the women being hustled from bus to infirmary and all the women with any sort of medical ability being drawn in, she understands the man's expression and at least some of Daryl's need to hold them all. Rick took ten minutes to let Carl go after he returned. She doesn't have any details yet, keeping her crew working in the slim windows they have to get laundry done in winter cold. The current loads will actually go in the dryers, but she isn't willing to leave the hospital soiled linens to sit even overnight.

"Everything clear outside?" she asks softly from where she and Abby are pressed between Carl and Daryl.

"Yeah. Couple of stragglers like usual." He kisses her cheek and then Abby's as he lets go, one hand lingering firmly until Asskicker responds too. The girl leans into Lori, but Carl returns to his machine and continues his work.

"Why don't you take the kids for a tracking lesson?" It'll keep Daryl's mind on important things. She hasn't forgotten the lessons of being a cop's wife, of how sometimes the need to protect rises so high after a period of stress it can't wind back down. And while she likes having Carl's help here and is glad Carol put him on the roster once a week to help as his 'cleaning chore' rotation, no one's going to be fussing about unfinished shifts today.

"A'right. Gonna take Flurry along. See if that nose of hers is worth training more." Although Bandit the Aussie seems to have adopted Lori and Abby, Carl's had his eye on one of the catahoula pups ever since Honey gave Domino away. He's got permission for one, but he and Daryl have yet to decide which one is the _one_ yet. She kind of hopes its the not-so-little-anymore dog half-named after the McDonald's dessert. She's a goofy clown when she's not working, which means she fits in well with Bandit. They're similar in weight now, but Flurry will outweigh him by her full growth.

The kids scramble into their winter wear, grabbing happiness the way only kids can even when the adults are dealing with the dire reality around them. Daryl uses the time to get a leisurely kiss. "Got your radio?" he asks.

Used to his safety checks, she motions to where she unclipped the radio but has it on the folding table closest to where she's working. Her knife, as always, is still in the shoulder holster, but the radio gets in the way of arm movement when clipped to the front of the holster.

"Have them call us back if you need anything. Gonna go over to the horse farm."

Then Ronnie comes in with a load from the lines and Daryl ushers the children out of the small laundry facility. She sees some of the tension in Daryl's shoulders ease as he's reminded that one of her work crew is a Guardsman. Unlike Lori, Ronnie carries a firearm along with his knife. She's actually the only one of her crew that doesn't, but she's with children too often to be comfortable.

"They going off hunting?" the bearded man asks.

"Tracking lesson for the kids and the dog."

He chuckles. "Think he's willing to teach adults sometime?"

"I'm sure he would, if you wanted him to."

"I'll ask sometime then." The man accepts her help in folding the sheets in his load, but then eyes the washers. "You got a while on those. Why don't you take a break and we can babysit til they're in the dryers."

She nods, working her way into the over-sized men's coat that works around her bulk and shoving the radio in one of the front pockets. She skips her gloves, which reminds her that she has another knife slipped into the lining Daryl altered. Wondering if the women of Terminus would have been safer if they carried weapons so naturally as she's being trained to do, she runs her fingers along the handle of the knife.

Maybe it's time she reconsiders not carrying her uncle's gun.

~*~ GR ~*~

Glenn startles when his radio buzzes against his hip. He's not used to the new units, which are police models after the electronic tinkers of Homestead re-purposed a system from one of the local law enforcement offices for in-community use. Now instead of everyone hearing a walkie request or broadcast, they can be done more individually, like this morning's council summons.

He answers, still perched on a stack of old pallets where he's watching Maggie methodically destroy targets on the archery range. She's yet to bleed off the rage from the Terminus rescue, which was revived after her shift helping in the infirmary. So, he's just staying near for when the need to destroy things turns to needing comfort instead.

"I've got someone asking to see you," Hershel explains. Since the vet is the one overseeing the care of the tortured woman Glenn's team found, he knows who that has to be.

"Maggie? The girl's awake."

Because that's what she is, as reported in from Gareth's shaky census given to Merle and Tyreese. Gia Morris is only eighteen.

Maggie retrieves her arrows and takes the bow and quiver to the storage shed. She follows him back to the infirmary, but when he sees her hesitate, he gives her a chaste kiss. "I'll meet you at the community center after."

It means he's alone as he sheds his outerwear and makes his way to the hospital ward.

Gia recognizes him and despite the injuries to her face, manages a ghost of a smile. "I thought I dreamed you, but he says you're his son."

The flush of pleasure in that recognition runs through him, but banked by the anger/sorrow mix of knowing what this girl survived. "I'm real. It's good to see you awake." When they got her broken body onto that makeshift backboard, he honestly didn't think she could survive. She's a mass of bandages now, one arm and one leg in a temporary splint awaiting the swelling to subside enough to give her the lightweight cast like Honey's.

Her eyelids flutter shut and back open as she swallows, the movement obviously painful. "He's dead, right? I didn't dream that."

"I shot him myself." Three times. Glenn wanted to make sure the man didn't get a second life as a walker either. He'd wished for the bigger damage of Rick's Python too. But three close range impacts from his Glock meant there wasn't enough brain matter left for the bastard to do more than burn with the rest of his kind when Terminus was erased under flame.

"Good." She offers a hand, her left undamaged, and he takes it, unsure if she wants to shake or just have him hold it. When she grips tightly, he steps closer to lessen her reach. "There were others?"

"My team. My fiancé, Maggie; sister-in-law, Tara; and our sniper, Tim."

"Thank them for me." She fights against a yawn that would be painful and lets his hand go.

"I'll bring them all to visit, when you're feeling up to it."

She manages something like a nod before she drifts off. He looks to Hershel for reassurance.

"She's going to sleep a lot the next few days, I think. Her body's got a lot to recover from, and she's lost what was left of her family now. You visiting, bringing the others, I think that'll help."

"I will. Do you need anything?"

Hershel shakes his head, indicating the book he has and a backpack Glenn knows probably contains any comfort items the man might need for a night at a bedside. "Keep an eye on Beth for me tonight?"

Glenn understands that need. Even though Beth sleeps in probably the safest building on the property, having her that far away ought to be unnerving after helping repair the damage of the Terminus attack. "She and Maggie can have a sleepover." The recliner's comfortable enough for Glenn and having her sister to look after will help Maggie too.

Hershel thanks him and as he glances back at Gia on his way out, Glenn wishes he could have made the man's death linger like the other bandits' did.


	43. Terminus, Part 2

**December 11, 2010**

~*~ DD ~*~

Lori's suggestion that he take the kids out is something he needs to thank her for. The tension that lurked during the hours of waiting, both before Terminus was retaken and after for their people and the refugees to return, finally ebbs out of him. He doesn't need the personal stories to read what happened to those folks. He is just glad that the ones he cares for would be a much tougher opponent for such brutality. Even Lori, although her bulky pregnancy and lack of intense self-defense training makes it difficult, would be a vicious surprise to the unwary, he thinks.

Soon as the baby arrives, he's going to coax her into the martial arts training if it kills him.

"Raccoon, right, Daddy?"

He looks at the print at the edge of the creek that meanders through the horse farm and nods. "How can you tell?"

"Looks like a person's hand, kinda."

"What makes it different from a possum, Carl?"

"Everything points forward on the rear footprint."

"Think your mama would get mad if we brought it home for supper?" he teases.

"Maybe. Think she likes the birds you bring better than the furry critters."

"Guess she'll be really happy to see your grouse then."

Carl's grin is wide enough to break the boy's face. He's got three of the birds tied to his belt. Daryl's got two and Abby one. She's learning birds are a different sort of shot than rabbits or squirrel, and her patience isn't quite there yet.

"Starting to get dark though," Abby grumbles.

Daryl assesses the sun's position and agrees. "Let's trek back to the truck before we hit full dark."

They all have just-in-case gear, same way he hunted even before the world went to shit, but radio contact or not, Lori will have his balls if he keeps the kids outside the thicket's protection after dark.

"Daryl? Think we can invite Dad for supper when we eat the grouse?"

"For your first birds? Course we will." Daryl hung onto the rooftop grudge almost as long as Honey, probably because Rick tried so hard to justify what he did, but eventually he had to concede what Scout did early on. Can't blame a man a week out of a coma for poor judgment. He's held steady in the months since, and while he doesn't have the easy friendship with Lori's official ex that he has with Shane, they're getting there. Even if they weren't, he would invite him for dinner for Carl's sake.

Carl leads the way back to Daryl's old Ford, with Flurry trotting at his heels. The dog did well on the hunting portion of the trip, flushing the grouse out twice. If Carl's still got his heart set on a hunting dog, he thinks his final vote's with the big female. He just isn't mentioning to the teenager that her sheer size potential is part of it. She'll be as viable a protector of Carl as Augustus is for Honey. Livia was sold to him as pure catahoula, but when she neared Augustus in size, Daryl knew there was something else in the mix and didn't bother challenging the papers he was given since Honey loved the dog regardless. It gives Flurry an advantage as a female, since she's not full grown and already bigger than most full-grown catahoula females he's seen hunting.

They make good time to the truck, and since they're in a fairly open area, he figures what the hell.

"Want a driving lesson, Carl?"

That grin's worth asking forgiveness versus permission with Lori later.

~*~ MD ~*~

By supper, seven of the Terminants venture into the community center for dinner, four of them children. He's not surprised in the least that one of them's Gareth, accompanied by a woman he introduces as Cynthia. The other adult is Myra, who carefully flanks the smaller woman between her and Gareth. All three seem barely able to keep their eyes off the children, although he knows from Gareth's census that these three have no children and that most of the Terminus child survivors are orphans now.

He's even less surprised when Lori makes her way to sit with the Terminants when he and Carol finish leading them through the line. Daryl's not here yet, radioing in they had game to clean first. For people who just survived a new kind of hell on earth, seeing a healthy pregnant woman safe and secure is a good plan for settling nerves. Patricia's watching with eagle eyes, but she's at that stage of pregnancy where once seated, moving's only for bathroom breaks til the meal's done.

Carol and Lori engage the two women in the usual commentary about Lori's pregnancy, but the questions seem a little pointed, and Carol nudges him under the table. He puts the clues together. He's guessing Cynthia's the pregnant woman, since Myra's of an age where it would be less likely, closer to Gareth's mother Mary.

If that's the case, maybe he should press harder for these folks to stay put, although if he keeps their new home close, they've proven today they can move fast in a medical emergency.

"Thought of another idea I missed earlier," he ventures to Gareth.

The younger man draws his attention away from talk of babies to raise a brow.

"Would you be opposed to a prison as a setting? There's one about half an hour from here, old world times. Had a pretty good overhaul and update on the taxpayer dime a few years ago under some pilot program about being self-sustaining. Held medium security offenders, mostly short timers, plus a boot camp program, and a young adult unit."

"I remember the news about that. Off-grid power, all the prisoners have to be work release eligible?"

"That's the one. They sent work details out to the whole county there and the local towns, the Guard armory, DOT, whatever government program needed them. The vocational training facilities should be good for a new community, and the fencing will already be pretty secure as long as no one brings in something ugly like a tank."

"Wouldn't it be difficult to clear out? I don't imagine the governor thought of pardoning those men when things went bad."

"Capacity there's less than a thousand. If they're trapped behind fences or in cells, that's not a hard herd to thin out if need be. And the guards probably set some prisoners free, considering the boot camp guys are near release anyway. We haven't really checked it out yet despite it being in our zone we're clearing, since we had easier priorities to target."

"It's worth a look."

Merle hesitated to offer the prison as an option after their ordeal, but he can see that like him, the Terminus leader can see the value in locking themselves _in_. A 'cupcake' prison isn't going to be high on anyone's list to raid. He's sure they have an armory there, but it's unlikely to be anything near what the big units carry.

"We'll pencil it in for next week. Take a couple of teams out with some of your people and assess if it'll work. If not, we'll move on to the other ideas we came up with." Those are less secure: schools, old lodges, the convent at one of the old lakes. They'll need more work to be off-grid too.

"We won't have foraging targets to report to you as much anymore."

"Ain't about that. We'll get you set up, if you insist your people need to stay separate. Make sure you get on the way to self-sustaining. It's to our benefit to have an ally out there, Gareth. Grow crops, raise some critters, maybe have your people pick up some skills we don't have here if you're not out on the road looking for supplies all the time. And it might be worth considering to winter here, move out in the spring. Just a suggestion."

"You've got the space?"

"The families have been slowly building cabins, so more of the apartments are opening up as we go. There's another set of bunkhouses like your people are already in, down on the other end. And I promise you, there's no team here that will turn down an extra set of hands or not be willing to train someone."

Gareth looks like he's thinking it over, eyes scanning the content residents sharing supper. Merle imagines he's also noticing something different from Terminus - that everyone here over the age of ten or so is openly armed with at least a knife, and the majority of adults have a holstered firearm.

"Carol." He draws her attention and she drops out of the conversation with the women to smile at him. "You got any of those welcome packet notebooks handy?"

"About half a dozen."

All three adult Terminants are attentive now. "Carol put together notebooks that explain how things work around here. Work crews, schooling for the kids, training for the adults, that sorta thing."

Gareth looks to Cynthia and then Myra. Both nod. "If we still leave, whether in the near future or in the spring, would your people be willing to take in the children?"

"We can find families for the ones without parents, but didn't you say that two of them have their mother with them?"

"They do, but I suspect she would prefer to stay here, where there is the potential for schooling and apprenticeship for herself and the children," Myra says. "And she's likely to need medical oversight a lot longer than anyone else."

Ah. That means the woman who was shot is the children's mother, since the other severely injured patient isn't old enough. "She's welcome as well. Anyone who wants to stay will be welcome."

"I'll talk it over with my mother and brother and we'll bring you a decision."

"No rush on it. Don't gotta know right away."

Honey rambles by, yawning, and draws his attention away. "You gonna get a nap before your shift?"

"Heading that way now." She pauses long enough to drop a kiss on top of first Carol's and then his head, grinning.

When she's wandered toward the door and bundling up, he turns back to his audience.

"What happened with her arm?" Cynthia asks, the first words he's heard the woman speak.

"We had an incident here, fight between two of the guys, and she bailed in to help break it up. Banged her arm on a table in the process."

"And the men in question?"

"It's not a disagreement they plan to repeat."

Carol coughs to cover a laugh. "She did deploy that taser on him."

"Is that why she's armed now?" Gareth is certainly concerned, and then Merle realizes the issue may be the usual issue with Honey.

"How old do you think she is?" he asks.

"Fifteen, maybe sixteen?"

"She's eighteen, and honestly, as independent as all my daughters are, that one would battle me the hardest if I tried to be overprotective." It's the wonder of Honey's personality. The only one who wanted to stay local, in the family business even, yet nothing lit her temper faster than feeling she was being considered too young for something. "She was armed that day, but since she wasn't willing to shoot him for a fist fight, she tased him instead. She trains hard with the ex-cops and military here, so you don't need to worry for her."

"And her shift?"

"Normally, she splits time between the building crew and being a sub for the run teams when someone needs time off. But she's off both duties until the cast comes off permanently, so she's taken a night watch shift while the woman that normally does it takes her spot on the building crew. Makes her a day sleeper, but we were on alert today, so she's napping now."

Gareth still looks a little worried, but Cynthia settles, which settles Myra. He suspects it's easier to reassure a woman that another female's capable sometimes.

"Y'all gonna stay for the movie?" Carol asks as people start folding and storing the tables closest to the wall they use for the movie projection. "It's _Finding Nemo_ tonight."

Gareth shakes his head, but some of the children look hopeful, and he sighs. "Maybe they could stay, if someone could look after them?"

Lori volunteers easily. "And there are plenty of DVDs and games in the cabinets, if you want to take them back to the bunkhouses for the others."

"They would probably enjoy that in addition to the art supplies and books that the teenage girls brought by."

"Do the adults need anything? Books, puzzle books, music?" Merle's glad Carol's thinking to offer. He's not sure any of the Terminus survivors want to sit around in their own thoughts at the moment.

"DVDs and games should work for tonight, maybe some books? They can be more specific tomorrow."

"Sounds good. How about the three of you walk down to the building we're putting our library in with me and pick out some things?" Carol offers.

"Jasper! You and Sophia come help your mama," Merle calls out when Gareth agrees. Normally, he might not send Jazz to help, because he can't imagine the boy's size is any comfort around traumatized women, but the teenager was with him when he installed the solar panels. These women know Jazz, and when Cynthia's bruised face lights up when the teenager approaches, he knows it's the right call.

With the teenagers in tow, Carol leads the three Terminants outside, while Lori smiles and moves down a few seats to face the children as Daryl, Carl, and Abby join them with hastily grabbed plates. Abby engages the quiet children with ease. Knowing the four kids are in good hands, he goes to join the dish duty he just summoned the two teenagers away from.

He isn't sure the Terminus survivors will stay, is almost certain they'll go come spring and a safe property to go to, but Homestead will do their best by them.

~*~ EP ~*~

Eugene can't settle, can't sleep, even though he knows he should since he's on watch tonight. He knows that Terminus' own policies of open admission aren't followed here, and no one could take over the property, but he was present when the Huey landed and those women taken off. The apocalypse is turning too many into animals without benefit of the walker virus.

It's cold, but outside at least he can mess with his telescope. It's not a terribly useful hobby now, unless they were travelling by night, he supposes, but it's soothing. He's taking notes, as he always does, when he hears his name called out.

Honey's at the top of the stairs on her own side, bundled against the cold much like he is. She tugs her balaclava down to smile at him. "Can't sleep either?"

"I am unable to settle down long enough to try."

She glances at her door and sighs. "I don't think I can either. Want some company?"

"I would enjoy that. But perhaps we should try a game or television?" Being inside by himself didn't appeal, and he knew Rosita was at the movie. Abraham's yet to forgive him, so that wasn't an option and he suspects the big man is probably blind drunk by now after going on the Terminus mission today.

"Sure. Could bring the sheep game."

"I suppose. Or we could play one of mine."

She doesn't go inside, so he supposes she's agreeing to his offer, jogging down her stairs and up his with athletic ease he envies. He leaves the telescope in place on the porch, because no one here will bother it. The tiny apartment doesn't lend to company well, but it's not the first time she's played some game or another here, since her schedule and her roommate's are often at odds with sharing their apartment for anything but sleep.

"Rummikub or Tsuro?"

"Tsuro." She piles her gear on the recliner, obviously intent on her usual spot at the foot of his bed for the game. He gets the game out, but notices she's distracted in a way she isn't normally. Worse than that, she's as still as he's ever seen her, sitting with her back against the wall and her arms around her knees.

"Hannah?"

She doesn't respond and he leaves the game box on the counter. "Hannah? Are you okay?"

She blinks a little, then shake her head. He's not sure what he should do, since she's normally the driving force in their odd little friendship. So, he goes to sit beside her, thinking over the day they all had.

"Oh. You were assisting at the infirmary." It's foolish that he didn't think of that right away.

Honey slides her hand in his. "Today wasn't the first time we've dealt with rapists," she says softly. "The first time, we couldn't save any victims, but I got to help make sure no one else got hurt. Was part of the teams that went to Grady too. Grady was bad, but the scale of Terminus... How can men do things like that?"

The cowardly part of him wishes she asked the question of any of the men in her family, not him. He knows his own proclivities are not the social norm. But never once in his life has he ever considered forcing a woman. He would have no value in a group of men like the bandits killed today, because he can't comprehend their impulses.

"I don't think anyone decent will ever be able to explain how men like those exist," he manages. Her hand flexes in his. She's seeking comfort he doesn't really know how to give.

She doesn't press him further, but doesn't let his hand go either. She picks at the seam of her jeans with her free hand. "It wouldn't be like that here."

"No, I am certain that the women and men here would not go down easily. It's part of what all the training is about, correct? Self-defense? After all, it was women who took down Abraham the day he lost his temper with me." The evidence of that is in the brightly-colored splinted cast she still wears. He replaced the periodic table on it at her request. It reminds him that he's still not certain of why her particular friendship is focused on him. He asked Rosita once and the woman just laughed and told him to enjoy it.

"A lot of the men died." She's looking distressed as she turns to him. "When we can train again, you'll let me teach you more than just how to shoot, won't you?"

It's a dilemma he's pondered after each checkup shows his fractured orbital is healing cleanly. Physical combat never has appealed to him, not even for self-defense. It's why so many people died protecting him on the way from Texas, taking chances they shouldn't because he wasn't even allowed the risk to try to help. It's the worst part of his lie, one he's talked to her about before.

"I will try." He would rather learn from her than from one of the Marines or ex-cops who run the self-defense classes. Rosita would probably teach him as well. He knows some men would be shamed by knowing women could best them in a physical contest of strength, and both Honey and Rosita will probably wipe the floor with him at first. But he thinks it would be less disheartening than having one of the men do the same. Comparing himself to the physical capabilities of men already combat capable would not inspire him to succeed.

"Eugene? You know you can learn all that, right? It's just muscle memory, letting your mind take the lead until the muscles repeat it."

He looks away from her earnest expression. "Athletic endeavors have never been in my field of capability." Shooting he actually understands. It's mathematics and physics and once he saw the rifle as an extension of his mind like any other lab equipment would be, it became easy to progress. It's precise and doesn't require a level of coordination he struggles with.

"Did you know my brother has Asperger's?"

Eugene stiffens. It's a word he's familiar with, and one he tries his best to ignore. The diagnosis didn't help him one bit, other than to add another label to the many of how he's different from the majority of his fellow humans. But Jazz is nothing like him. He's well-spoken, if a little quiet; athletic and supremely coordinated; and socially popular in a way Eugene never could be.

"We found out when he was ten. He used to be really clumsy. Could trip over nothing but air. He had a physical therapist suggest coordination drills. That's actually how we all got into lacrosse. The hand-eye coordination and footwork, once he finally got it down pat, helped with the everyday stuff too. He likes the rules too. Says things are more black and white in sports than in other things."

When she squeezes his hand again, he realizes she's always very careful in touching him. Today's probably the first time she's ever taken his hand or elbow without telegraphing it enough to allow him to sidestep the contact, the same with the hugs she's begun dispensing to him as easily as anyone else she seems to see as 'hers'. He never has, mostly because there's an innate trust she isn't about to overwhelm him. Women usually aren't a problem with that. It's big, bold men like Abraham who equates slapping a man on the shoulders with enough force to knock one over as appropriate that really irk him.

He thinks about her contact with her brother, more tactile than with him, but never with the brash physicality she has with the others in her family. He's seen her slide an arm around Jazz and lean into his greater height, but compared to the fact that he's seen her take a run at her father, Daryl, Jamie, and Shane to claim a piggyback ride, her behavior toward Jazz - and himself - is subdued.

"How did you hazard a guess that my affliction was similar?"

That gets a big reaction and she's a little angry. "It's not an _affliction_ and someone in your past needs to be punched if they called it that."

"Then you would probably have punched a lot of people," he admits softly. Abraham is unique among the males he's known, who seems to find Eugene's speech patterns and habits quirky and amusing, or at least he did. He might be like most others now. Rosita gets annoyed by how he speaks, but usually lets him ramble because she likes the knowledge he imparts. These past months are the longest he's spent with anyone not required to spend time with him due to work, and he doesn't think they would have valued him outside of the lie.

Honey knows he lied though. She was there when he admitted to it. She chose to be his friend anyway, and Rosita is still his friend. He's actually beginning to think a few others here are honestly friendly.

"But it's the way you talk," she answers once she calms down from that outburst. "Jazz spoke the same way when he was younger. People called him the 'little professor'." She smiles, obviously seeing it as a sweet memory of her younger brother. "But when he got older, there were bullies. He had a speech therapist for a while. It's why most people don't notice it any more, unless you get him really started on a subject he's passionate about."

"It doesn't bother you, the manner in which I speak? I think speech therapy is a little beyond our adaptations now."

She shakes her head. "I like the way you speak. I don't want you to change it."

He can't help himself from hugging her and she puts far more force into her return hug than he's used to. He realizes she's still angry on his behalf at people who are probably walking caricatures of themselves now. She doesn't let go or push him away as if the hug's on a timer. So, he says as soft as he can against her ear. "Thank you."

When he does let her go, she retakes his hand, keeping the gap between them bridged. "I didn't mean to upset you."

"It is not your fault, Hannah. If you truly think it is worth the effort to train me, I will endeavor to give it my best."

"It's worth the effort even if you don't learn a damned thing," she mutters. "You're my friend."

He smiles at her grumpy expression, despite his own misgivings. "You must be. I've never had anyone else willing to watch _Star Trek_ with me."

Her glance goes toward the TV, but the case nearby isn't Trek right now. "Hey, you started _Farscape_ without me?"

He just reaches for the remote and restarts the season one DVD. He'll rewatch all of them for the joy of having a friend excited to share them.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol leaves Gareth and the two ladies to distribute everything from the library and sends Jazz and Sophia back to enjoy the movie. She knows it's one of Sophia's favorites. She's debating going to the infirmary or the house when Merle steps out of the community center bundled up enough she supposes he's heading home.

He smiles as she reaches him on her path to intercept his, reaching out to hook her under his arm as they walk.

"Do you think they'll stay?"

She shakes her head. "The winter, maybe. But I think here won't be enough of a fresh start for the ones wanting to leave their nightmares behind."

"Leaves us five kids to place, no matter what. Patricia doesn't need more fosterlings."

"I think Jacqui and Jim might take the girls. He's been getting steadily better, and maybe being a father again might at least help him the rest of the way. But girls, not the boys. I don't think he could manage to not feel like boys would be trying to replace his sons."

Merle nods in agreement. "Suppose so. And the two boys?"

"I'm going to ask Tyreese and Karen. I figure at some point, they'll probably join the baby boom, but Julie's pretty much grown. He'll make a good dad to half-grown boys." Derrick's seven and Ashton's nine. Big, gentle teddy bear Tyreese would make a great dad for them. Many of the Grady kids, with what they survived and witnessed, flock to the ex-football player.

"Three girls is a lot for Jim and Jacqui to take on."

"I know. Do you think Shane and Scout might be willing?" The girls are a similar age to the boys: seven, nine, and eleven. Shane and Scout are heroes to those kids, but they're busy and both off property a lot. At least with Jacqui and Karen, it's just the women who are gone most days.

He's thinking it over. "I think that you should at least ask, before any of the kids are settled. Let them see if that's a place they think they can go, especially with the baby on the way."

"I will, in the morning, before they go out." She sighs as they make it to the deck stairs. "There's a possibility of another."

"Gareth's little lady? I figured that out from the conversation."

She shakes her head, feeling her stomach lurch a little, like it had during the exam she performed. "All the women were offered Plan B. Two refused, and one's at the right time for it to be a risk."

"Oh, hell. Some damned strong women."

"Yeah." She can't imagine what it would take for her to be able to carry a child to term that she didn't conceive voluntarily. "One asked me, if it came to pass, if I could find the baby a home. I told her yes."

"Told her right then. If the mama's strong enough to bring the baby into the world, then we can certainly find someone to love it. Us maybe. Some folks would have a hard time with the nature of things."

There's a look on his face as he opens their bedroom door for her that reminds her of just what sort of man Will Dixon was, the legacy Merle fought to overcome. She thinks without a doubt that he would never blink at adopting a child with a history like this. She's not sure even to this day that Merle's own conception isn't a mirror of this potential child they're discussing. She's entirely certain Daryl's was. She's heard some of Merle's nightmares.

Getting ready for bed is a quiet process, and she cuddles close to him, needing the comfort. There was the worry and agitation while the teams were gone. Not knowing if any of their people would fall victim to the bandits while saving their neighbors. It's the first time she was grateful for Honey's broken arm, because the teenager would have fought at her father's side without a doubt. What she saw, working in the infirmary, was bad enough. Most were cleaned up and had some medical care by the time they arrived at Homestead.

She doesn't have to ask to know how bad it was. She's seen the haunted looks on the experienced cops and military. She stitched damage today that she hoped to only ever read about or to have seen after a difficult childbirth. Terminus was the stuff of nightmares.

Tonight will be a rough one for both of them, she thinks, and she hopes whatever monster crawls up into Merle's dreams holds the faces of the men killed today and nothing more.

~*~ TD ~*~

T-Dog stands as Lilly makes her way inside in a gust of cold, Domino at her heels. Meghan glances up from her coloring book to give her mother a gap-toothed smile.

"Christian's sleeping," she announces, pointing to the guard rail on the bottom bunk that turns it into a crib.

"So, I see. Were you good for Theo?"

"Yep! We watched a Chipmunks cartoon, and since he's already Theodore, I'm gonna be Alvin and Christian is gonna be Simon."

Lilly laughs as she passes off bits of her winter wear to T-Dog. He just shrugs with a smile. If the six-year-old wants him to be the chubby youngest cartoon chipmunk, that's what he'll be.

"Why don't you go get ready for bed?"

Meghan nods, jamming the crayon in her hand back in the box and dropping the book and box in the backpack on her bunk post as she grabs pajamas from under her pillow.

"Did they both behave well for you?" Lilly asks.

He smiles. "They were both good. He lasted about ten minutes after you got called away."

"I'm starting to think the universe is against me dating," she says ruefully.

Considering today's events and the images he can't unsee, he understands. Tonight was their fifth date since she first asked him over for a movie after Thanksgiving. All of them were interrupted by a need for a female nurse. She offered to cancel at supper, but the last thing he wanted was his empty apartment after what he's seen today. Chipmunk cartoons with Meghan and babysitting Christian for Cricket and Tara is a perfect evening.

He hears the shower kick on and leans in for a kiss. She's chilled from the run to the nursing home and back, so he cups his warm hands along the sides of her face even after the kiss ends.

"How's Miz Lavinia?"

"As ornery as ever. Felipe could have handled it, but she's so picky about that catheter. He didn't want to pull Cricket away from the hospital tonight."

"Can't blame him there." He lets her lead him to the tiny couch and sits beside her.

"I can't imagine what y'all walked into there."

He wishes he couldn't. The bandits were unprepared, and that helped, but the one he knifed was still breathing when he made sure he was dead and couldn't turn. He saw the knowledge in his teammates' eyes when he came back through the window. None of them judged him. But it's not something he wants here, in this cheery place with children and cartoons and a woman who spends her time saving lives, not taking them.

What he did today was necessary to save the women of Terminus and protect the ones here. It's not the first time he's killed a man since the world ended. He wishes it didn't haunt him. There is no question of the man's guilt.

She seems to understand he's unsettled and curls into him. The scent of her coconut shampoo overrides the memory of the way that RV smelled. This is clean and pure and lovely.

"Theo?"

"Hmm?"

"Stay the night."

"You sure?" That's the line they haven't crossed yet. After letting himself lose control on Halloween, he's been extra careful with this budding relationship. They made out like teenagers, but second or third date sex like the old world isn't what he's looking for, especially not from a single mother.

She pulls away so she can kiss him in answer. He's still trying to catch his breath, smiling up at her, when the shower cuts off.

"There's no way you got good and clean that fast, missy." Lilly's up and off the couch to go chastise her daughter in person. Domino raises her furry head and gives him a look that makes him laugh. He's not used to their routines yet either.

He relaxes back against the couch and grins as mother and daughter bicker their way through a post-shower routine. And when bedtime for Meghan includes climbing up to kiss him on the cheek goodnight, he knows he's staying.

Honestly, he may never leave.


	44. Terminus, Part 3

A/N: One of Michonne's lines - _A bad man, someone truly evil? They're light as a feather. They don't feel a thing. _\- is directly taken from the episode "This Sorrowful Life" when she's speaking to Merle before he sees the Governor.

**December 11, 2010**

~*~ GR ~*~

Glenn stretches out in the recliner, ignoring the show Maggie and Beth have playing in favor of watching the sisters interact. Despite the slight age gap and differing mothers, they're far closer than he ever was to his sisters. Well, his original sisters. The adopted ones are sometimes a little too interested in the details of his life, not that he's really complaining.

He thinks a lot of the problem growing up was being the only boy. He sees glimpses of it with the Dixons, since Daryl and Jazz bookend all the girls, their relationships differ. Hanging out with Jazz when time and schedules allow, he wishes he wasn't the only boy. Maybe having a brother might have changed the family dynamic enough that he wasn't carrying all the pressure he did.

Maggie glances over and sees him watching and smiles, that slow, happy look of hers that makes him thrilled that of all the men her age in Homestead, she chose him. She turns back to Beth after the blonde makes a quip about the show's dialogue.

He thinks of Gia, of the fact that she's Beth's age, and the rage that keeps coming in waves today makes a reappearance.

When the first round cleared and he could see more than the monster he just killed, he looked to his team, expecting concern at best and wary looks at worst, because he knows he lost it. But the two women's expressions were only sympathetic, as if they're imagining being in his place. Tim's expression was the neutral one he often slid into when his combat skills are required.

It reminds him he never checked in on his teammate after they got back and he feels a little ashamed. It's easy to let it slide sometimes, because of Tim's Army Ranger background. He lowers the footrest and gets to his feet.

Both sisters look at him right away and he smiles. "Gonna go check in on Tim a bit."

"He might be with Honey," Maggie suggests.

"Maybe, but just in case."

It's not far, once he's bundled up. Technically, he can see the bottom of Tim's window from his own second floor porch, since the man's in the lower level of the building across. But knowing there's the glow of a light under the edge of the curtain doesn't tell him anything about his neglected teammate. He may be older and more experienced, but he's Glenn's responsibility as much as Maggie and Tara and to a lesser extent, all of Jacqui's team.

He's glad the adapted porch Merle's team built allows walking right up to Tim's door, instead of having to cross in front of Dale's or Danny's. He knows Danny isn't home, because he saw the youngest Marine follow Andrea out of the community center after the movie. Dale's probably sleeping since he carries first watch duties.

When he knocks, it takes a minute for Tim to respond, and there's no mistaking he's been drinking. He does motion Glenn inside, out of the cold. Glenn's glad he doesn't have to unsee anything with Honey involved, but at the same time, her not being here means the man's alone.

"You really don't have to check up on me," he says, but there's a pleased note in his voice that tells Glenn, yes, he really does.

"It's a rough night to be alone. Would you really have spent a night on your own after a day like today back in the service?" Glenn's never sure how much is Hollywood and how much is real about the brotherhood principle of the military, but from what he's seen of Scout and her Marines, he suspects it's more truth than fiction. Here for that type of role, Tim's got Rachel, he supposes, from their former marshal service together, and then him, Maggie, and Tara.

The older man shakes his head and offers Glenn a drink. Glenn shakes his head, and surprisingly, Tim caps the bottle and sticks it back in mini-fridge before retrieving a water bottle. He also catches Glenn's surprise and shrugs. "Gotta work tomorrow. I may tow the line close with the liquor, but it doesn't own me yet."

The stark honesty reminds him a bit of Merle's willingness to talk about sobriety and that he's seen Tim with both Merle and Hershel regularly. So, Glenn just nods and glances at the TV. "Cartoons?"

"Very little content of the blood and gore type in watching the damned Smurfs."

Tim's room is one of the smallest type, just a full-size bed, a bedside table and the mini-fridge actually serving as the TV stand for the small flat-screen DVD player combo TV. He doesn't even have the microwave on top of the mini-fridge that he knows Dale has in his quarters. Maybe after years of military service, he's like Scout, content with community meals.

The older man takes a seat on the bed, pushing back to the corner where the bed's against the wall and sipping the water. "If you're worried about what we saw today, Glenn, I've seen as bad before, overseas. I should worry about you, not the other way around."

Glenn sits on the end of the bed, gaze on the animated blue creatures for a few minutes before he responds. "I thought I was supposed to feel bad."

"You probably will, eventually. Life's a life, even if it's subhuman. Can't call those men animals, because I actually still feel something when I hunt, and I don't with them. But you're not to that place, and you probably never will be. Wouldn't train you to it even if you asked me to."

"You trained a lot of the women."

"As sharpshooters, Glenn. There's a difference. That's shooting to defend, like we did with the herd or like we did today to save those women."

"And as a sniper?" Glenn thinks of Tim's assessment of Honey's skill levels to Scout. The look they exchanged then makes a little more sense. Both looked sad, behind the pride.

"A sniper has to be able to make a preemptive strike. Target might not be openly guilty yet. You follow the orders and you don't question the target's guilt or innocence because if you do, you'll lose your mind."

"And you think Honey can do that?"

Tim shrugs. "Won't know for sure until she's tested, and I hope like hell she never is, but yeah, I think she's as capable of it as I am, or Scout, or Shane." He actually smiles. "You're a good man, Glenn. You don't have that switch. Making you take an unknown shot would kill something vital in you, just like it would Maggie. Tara, I dunno. She might be able to go there, in the right environment, just like Rachel can. Law enforcement training does give you a lighter version of what the military does."

"So, you think I'll eventually feel guilty?"

"Probably when you least expect it. Gonna hit you and maybe you'll grieve or be angry or even throw up. It's all normal. What you had to do today, that takes something from you that never comes back."

Glenn thinks of the condition Jazz was in for the trip here from Atlanta and thinks he understands. Jazz had less preparation that he might one day have to cross the line than Glenn had before today.

"I actually thought you might have company tonight," he admits.

"That's not quite the type of thing we have going. She needed to rebound. I preferred my friend to get that without any strings. She stays the night sometimes, yeah. But a day like today? She's going for comfort, not sex."

There's a knock at the door that startles Glenn enough he nearly falls off his perch on the corner of the bed. Tim motions for him to open the door, and Glenn's a little surprised to find Christopher on the other side. The nurse looks like utter hell, and the bag he's carrying makes Glenn realize he's missed a different sort of entanglement. The sudden feeling of being a third wheel in the room is pretty overwhelming and he's glad he didn't shed his coat.

"I'll see you at breakfast," he says, letting Christopher get further into the room.

Tim calls out a good night, and as Glenn shuts the door behind him, he does wonder if that's another of the no strings parts of Tim's life.

The thought makes him more than a little sad for his teammate.

~*~ RG ~*~

The weirdest part about today is that in all the gun battle, he's pretty sure he didn't log a single kill himself and he's disappointed, not relieved. He isn't as smooth and practiced with the headshots like Shane yet, although even that skill failed his best friend today with that window shot. That's going to eat at Shane, he knows, because if he'd killed the man with the first or second shot, he wouldn't have gotten off a round into that poor woman.

Normally, he might have pulled the man aside for a few hours. Had a few beers together maybe. But he isn't going to try, because the vibe coming off Shane every time he looks at Scout is one of a man holding his shit together only long enough to get his wife out of the public eye. If they had fewer responsibilities, he thinks Shane would have spirited her off the second she cleared medical and they might see them by tomorrow.

Rick understands the impulse. He thinks he might be the same way, if his wife was shot and survived it.

"You look lost in thought."

He must have been, because Rosita's voice so close makes him about jump out of his skin. She must have come up the stairs on Eugene's side for him not to notice her. It's too damned cold to be outside, but he got sidetracked on the way home by just the sheer idea that they're free to wander their property. The events at Terminus are a sure sign that not everywhere is as safe and he's doubly glad he ignored his initial wariness of Merle to follow the Dixons here with his family.

"Was, just a bit. Worried about Shane and reminding myself he's got a wife to help with that process now." He gives her a rueful smile. "Hard to break years of habit though."

She looks like she understands. "Considering I was coming by to make sure Eugene's doing okay, I can understand. He's got company though."

"Honey?"

"Yeah. Curtain over the sink's open. Looks like they're watching TV."

"I doubt they'll object if you join them."

"Nah. The part of me that Eugene got interested in science keeps seeing them as a social experiment. I kinda want to see where it goes."

"Like a couple?" He mulls that over. Honey does seem to have a preference for men in Eugene's age range, if Tim and T-Dog are an example. Probably one of the Grady cops too, but he's not sure which apartment she was returning from the night Rick crossed paths with her. With the exception of Amanda Shepherd and Gil Licari, who gave up any pretense of not being a couple and moved into open quarters a few buildings down, the rest of the Grady cops all still live in the building across the lane from Rick's.

"Maybe. Right now, I'm guessing neither of them have considered that, or we'd know about it. But she's talked him into shooting a gun, and I thought that would take a damn miracle, to be honest. And I haven't caught him looking down my shirt in days, so there's that improvement too."

"You don't sound particularly upset about him peeping."

Rosita smothers a laugh with a gloved hand. "That's another story entirely. But no, Eugene admiring the 'girls' isn't a bother. He's firmly in the look but not touch camp, which is better than a lot of other men obsessed with my boobs have been." Then her smile turns a little wicked. "You're a cute one with it. Stealing little peeks like a teenager trying not to get caught."

Rick's too damned old to blush like a teenage boy, but there it is. The bad part is that he's never really been as obsessed with that part of the anatomy as most men he knew were. His preference is more for other curves, and thank god she's not mentioning catching him at that.

She giggles. "I didn't mean it wasn't welcome, deputy."

He isn't sure how to reply to it, because he's still got a timer in his head that says she's on the rebound from Abraham. Her stepping close is a surprise enough that he's being kissed before he can react, and she's determined enough that she lingers until he responds. It's not the best first kiss, both of them chilled from the night air, but the promise in it is enticing.

"Here we are both worrying about others tonight," she says when she finally lets go of his coat collar. "Maybe it's time to be selfish and worry about ourselves."

"Don't really want to be a rebound guy," he mumbles.

"Maybe you should make it worth remembering then."

He figures he has a choice between a lonely apartment and probably his mind replaying today's events in technicolor, or he can toss his reservations about whether or not she's ready. He knows Shane would tell him to stop being so conservative for once in his life, if he asked his best friend. He does know he likes this woman a lot. He even rode in and out of the hell that was Terminus today beside her, when Merle's team divided up and she and Morgan stepped into Shane's Humvee.

Taking her hand, taking the chance he told Shane to take back at the quarry that worked out so well for the other man, Rick leads her inside.

~*~ TC ~*~

"Hey. Gotcha some tea." Tara hands off the steaming cup of peppermint tea to Cricket where she's at the nurse's desk in the infirmary, adding notes to her charts with the speed of a doctor with years of experience instead of a med student learning by plunging into the deep end.

Her partner's smile is tired, but she turns her face up, seeking a kiss, and Tara obliges. She knows part of Chrissy pulling tonight's duty shift despite her exhaustion is that everyone figures that the women who can't sleep will respond far better to another woman watching over them. Tara's just sent Michonne away from the guard duty she took up and refused to abandon all evening. The dreadlocked woman studied Tara for a moment before agreeing to leave only if Tara was staying. With Christian safely at Lilly's for the night, she's not going anywhere.

Today's horrors are going to linger for everyone a good long while.

"You ought to take a nap. I can watch over them a while and wake you if you're needed. Hershel's here too."

The veterinarian is asleep by his patient, covered in a sturdy quilt and making the uncomfortable hospital chair look easy to sleep in. She supposes as a vet, he has a lot of experience grabbing sleep in odd places while he can.

It's a sign of just how tired Chrissy is that she doesn't argue, only gulps the still-too-hot tea and stands. She wobbles toward the tiny alcove meant for staff spending the night and disappears. Tara considers taking her seat, but a glance around the ward shows a couple of women awake, so she wanders over to see if they need anything.

The first woman declines and returns her headphones to her ears. Tara wonders briefly what sort of music you select for a night like this. Helping rape victims is part of the training she had to become an officer. She knew as a female officer, she might be called on more than her male counterparts as a safe guardian. None of it came close to preparing her for the scale of the rapes today.

The other woman is reading, or attempting to, but closes the book when Tara stops at the foot of her bed. "Is there more tea?"

It's a matter of minutes to return with more of the peppermint tea. "Sorry. We only have the one type in the staff area because Cricket's the only one who drinks tea on the staff."

"Your girlfriend?"

Tara smiles. "Yeah. Partner, girlfriend, we aren't real picky. Her family refers to me as an in-law already, so there's that too."

"She's one of the Dixons, right?"

"Daughter number two, yeah."

"Her sister rescued me today. Or finished the rescue, perhaps." The woman's smile twists in a dark way and Tara supposes this is the one who managed to knife her attacker. "I remember seeing you there too, after. Helping your lady with the medical."

Tara nods. Once the place was clear, her whole team ended up extra hands to the medical staff, Glenn and Tim with Christopher helping the men, Tara and Maggie helping Chrissy. Caleb had left on the helicopter.

"No one's told us much yet other than we're safe and to rest."

"I don't know where it'll go yet, but I figure they'll offer for everyone to stay here." She wishes she thought to talk to Merle or Carol before coming back here tonight.

"Is it true that the last of your people out burned the place down? We thought we heard an explosion."

"They did. We'd rather find a new place for everyone than there." Tara knows that the only remnants of Terminus now are whatever bits of the bandits were left after the explosive charges were set off.

"It's been advertised too much," the woman says. She manages something near a smile despite her face being half-swollen. Tara nods. "Is everyone armed here normally, or is that because of what happened to us?"

Tara shrugs. "A little of both. Everyone's armed to an extent. Knives for certain. But I saw a few that got a little lackluster with carrying a gun inside the gates have their holsters back out today."

"Would you be willing to teach me? I got lucky with that knife today. Movies didn't lie about the throat being a soft target, at least."

"I can. But we have classes here, that you can join. Everyone takes the basic self-defense classes, like what police departments and martial arts studios would offer especially for women back before. But anyone who wants to learn here is welcome. My sister-in-law is a shooting instructor, so's a brother-in-law." It's just easier, with the Dixons, to use the same in-law references. Lilly tells Tara that one day she should do something to make it reality. After a decade of knowing she was gay and knowing it meant little or no opportunity to marry, it just became something she didn't think about that much.

"The Marine from today and her husband?"

"Shane's an instructor, yeah. And Scout could teach, I suppose, but one of her other younger sisters is the one with the training to do it. Archery as well. We have classes on all of it, including martial arts. I'll mention something tomorrow, but honestly, it's just a matter of showing up to a class on most things. There's a schedule posted at the community center. Beginning to shoot... I can ask Honey to come by tomorrow, if you're not discharged."

"Please. I suspect there are a lot of women in here who would be interested in talking to her."

The woman fumbles with her book a bit, and Tara figures it's not enough to hold her attention. She remembers how Honey distracted Eugene that night they all spent on the ward. "Want to play a card game? I'm here all night."

"It sounds better than failing to read the same paragraph six times."

Tara retrieves the pack of Uno cards from the bedside table with a grin. "All the tables have card games, just in case." Then realizing she doesn't know the woman's name and hasn't introduced herself, she offers a hand. "I'm Tara."

"Dixie."

~*~ AF ~*~

Abraham's smoking outside, leaning on the front railing, when he sees Michonne coming down the stairs on the apartment building opposite, her sleeping son bundled onto her shoulder. He stubs out the cigar and crosses over to offer a hand. He knows she's capable, but damned if he won't offer to help a mother out.

Surprisingly, she accepts, glancing up to him as they walk down the lane between his building and hers. "I'm guessing there's a lot of us who won't be sleeping tonight."

He sighs, feeling the warmth of the toddler against him. It compounds the ache of his loss, the one made worse by today. He knows he could have asked not to go and everyone on his team would understand. Or asked for a duty other than helping move bodies after. But it seemed like part of his atonement to face what happens when good people aren't there to stand in the way of bad.

"I don't sleep much anyway."

She just makes a noise of agreement as they reach her door, but steps aside to let him take Andre in. "Bottom bunk's his. He thinks he's big enough for the top, but it's a battle he's lost so far."

Laying the boy down is fairly easy, since he's wrapped in a thick blanket rather than wearing a coat, but he steps back to let her finish settling her son to bed.

"You're pretty good at not waking him up," she remarks.

"Yeah. Had a lot of experience." His voice cracks on that admission. He's sure the council, at least, is aware of what he's shared with Hershel, but he hasn't personally told anyone other than the older man.

Michonne pauses, looking up for a moment, before giving him a jerky nod and returning to her task. She pulls the dividing curtain back to shield the bunkbed from the living room and then flips on a lamp instead of just night light that lit their way. "I thought he was dead for months," she says after a moment of just studying him as if he is a new mystery for her to unravel.

"How'd that happen?" He would have thought the former lawyer would have been here from the start, or at least with the Dixons she seemed attached to.

"Didn't listen to Merle to come here when things started going bad. Ended up in a refugee camp at Atlanta. It was chaos, not enough food or water, so I went out for supplies and left him with his father and his friend. Camp fell when I was gone. I found his father and his idiot friend turned, no sign of Andre, so I just assumed he was gone. I wandered for months in a state of self-destruction."

"How did he end up here?" A goddamned miracle, a boy that size surviving a camp falling without his parents.

"One of the girls here helped save him. She and her mother got him out. Her mother got bitten in the process. Isabelle kept them both alive long enough to stumble across a caravan led by a Marine."

"That's the type of tale that proves guardian angels got to exist," he mutters.

"If they do, there were not enough of them, were there?" Her expression is kind.

He shakes his head, not sure how to speak the words.

"What were their names?"

Those should be known, be spoken again, right? "AJ and Becca. My boy wasn't a lot older than yours. Couldn't save them or my wife." He's less ready to go over why they were outside his protection. Today's ripped that wound wide open, leaving him raw and ready to scream. Seeing the fear many of the women had of even their saviors reminded him of how Ellen and the kids flinched away from him after he rid the world of the men who dared hurt his wife. He didn't kill a single bandit today, just bad luck that his bullets weren't any of the final ones.

It adds to the morass of ugly in his gut though.

"Sit a while. Tell me about them."

He doesn't want to refuse the order, even though part of him wonders at why she's bothering with counseling a half-drunk asshole with her son sleeping three feet away. So, he sits, and he accepts the cup of hot chocolate she passes him, not saying a word when it's doctored enough to probably finish the drunk he started.

As she listens to him stumble through parts of the story he didn't even tell Hershel, he expects to see her turn wary. She's seen the result of his temper after all. But her gaze is steady and understanding. He realizes that there was a glimmer of confession earlier, about her wandering. He wonders if she sought death in careless battle the way he has, after Eugene stopped him from directly taking his life.

"Losing your way is only something to be ashamed of if you refuse to come back from it," she says when he runs out of words at last. "I think there will always be people who need people like us."

He isn't sure the elegant woman in front of him comes remotely close to being in the same category as him, but he accepts the theory of her words anyway. They are both protectors, in their own ways.

"How do you ever let him out of your sight?" he asks, staring at the curtain between the rooms.

"With great difficulty every time. But I trust that he has those who would protect him as ferociously as I would, and that everything I do to make the world safer is a better future for him." She smiles grimly. "The law is no longer a leash on the monsters in the world, Abraham. So, we must be the hands of justice. Not everyone can handle blood on their hands, so those of us who can? We bear the weight, even if it feels like it might crush us some days. A bad man, someone truly evil? They're light as a feather. They don't feel a thing. You remember that when you get to feeling like Atlas holding up the world."

"And if I lose my way again?"

"You make sure you have people to bring you back, instead of pushing them away from you like you've been doing."

"Meaning Rosita? She deserves more than I got to give."

"Meaning Rosita and Eugene both. You don't have to be screwing the woman to be her friend. And there's not a soul in this place that won't tell you Eugene needs a guiding hand from someone that finds him interesting instead of offensive. Make some new friends. Let people reach out."

"I think I've burned my bridges with Rosita. And I broke Eugene's face."

"Uh huh. Maybe if that bridge involves her bedroom. But months on the road, keeping each other alive? I've seen the way she looks toward you. She's still your friend. Beg forgiveness for whatever asshole shit you spewed to end things and she'll be your guide to staying out of the darkness. Him too. Man watches you as much as she does. I think losing you scares them both."

"Maybe you're right." She's not the first to tell him to suck it up and apologize either, although her glare's far fiercer than Honey Dixon when she's made a habit of sitting across from him at a meal every other day or so just to stare at him a while and leave with a "grow a pair, jerk" as she leaves. Although that might be in reference to the fact he's never managed to say anything to _her_ yet, he suspects she could care less about her own apology from him.

"I know I'm right. Made a damned good living at reading people. Listen to the advice that would cost you three hundred an hour once upon a time, and here you are getting it for free."

"Could ask why you're bothering."

She actually laughs. "You aren't the first stubborn ass white man I've had to give life advice to, Abraham. Just don't adopt me like Merle did."

She gets up and refills both their mugs. "Since neither of us is going to sleep tonight, how about you regale me with the weirdest thing you ever did in the military? Heard some interesting tales from Scout over the years. Surely an Army boy can top a Marine on that."

He takes up the blatant challenge and somewhere between the tale of the damned camel that ate the keys and the time the idiot lieutenant got caught with the not-quite-female hooker in the red-light district, he realizes the heaviness of the day has fled.

Maybe there's something in her words about friends holding back the darkness, after all.

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane's chasing a climax with a desperation he's never felt before with Scout. He's sweat soaked and so's she, and she's got him gripped against her as if he's her lifeline.

He managed to keep a lid on the terror in the back of his mind all day. It was easier once she got out of that uniform, where he wasn't seeing the evidence of the gun shot in the fabric. He's too experienced with wounds not to know that without her body armor, they don't have the technology or the expertise anymore to repair a wound where the impact was.

Showering in the other facilities because theirs isn't working meant he didn't _see_ until they got home tonight. The massive bruise covers a good portion of her ribs on the right side of her chest, from the fist sized inflamed red mark of the actual .45 bullet impact to the blooming colors around it that he can't cover up even with his large hand.

_If they were a shade more careless today._

_If they hadn't used the body armor they rarely break out._

_If the man had aimed higher instead of center mass._

_If one of his captives hadn't brained him with a goddamned candlestick like some scene out of Clue._

So many fucking 'ifs' that meant his wife being **shot** today might have ended differently.

He's sobbing against her throat. He needs to get his weight off her. It's got to hurt like hell. But he can't make himself move. Not yet.

Not when he has her sheltered beneath him.

His world could have ended today, but it didn't.

She just tangles her fingers in his curls, stroking through his hair, and lets his emotions run their course.

semi-edited scene for M rating vs E at Ao3

~*~ EP ~*~

Honey's sound asleep against him, two episodes in. There's still at least two hours before they have to report to watch, and he's triple checked that his watch alarm is set.

He can't get the blankets out from under them, but he does manage to get his coat off the hook by the bed, glad for the odd impulse that he listened to in selecting a long coat from stores. He gets it draped over her as a blanket and tugs the pillows in place so if he does doze off, he'll stay upright, her pillow and not her bed mate.

She trusts him in a way he doesn't think anyone ever has. Abraham and Rosita trusted him, true enough, because they thought he had knowledge that made him valuable. Honey just assumes the best of him and that he'll live up to the expectation.

He wants to.

He thinks about what happened at Terminus. He thinks about Honey or Rosita looking like the women who came off the helicopter. For the first time, he understands the fury that men like Abraham embrace. Maybe he isn't capable of berserker strength like Abraham. But if the alternative is dying while his friends are tortured, how is that even an option anymore?

He's fantasized about being a hero before.

After the dead started walking, he just fantasized about being a survivor.

But what's the point of surviving if you don't have anyone with you who gives a damn that you're still alive and kicking?

He doesn't think he'll ever be the hero either of the women important to him already are. They'll charge into danger without a second thought, slaying the monsters to make the world safer for people like him. Honey's sister was shot today and she got up and finished the rescue she started because she was equipped to survive.

He can at least do his best to make sure they're safer when they do battle. He can see that they have a better chance of defeating any evil they face. He's got a genius level IQ and a safe place to use it.

He chances waking Honey by a gentle touch against her hair.

She can be James Bond. He'll just make sure she's got the best damned Q the world has ever seen.


	45. Pardoned

**December 19, 2010**

~*~ Oscar ~*~

Oscar dries the last dish and puts it away, exchanging a tired look with Axel. They don't sleep at the same time anymore, preferring to pretend and keep watch over each other and Tiny. Awake and aware, their less savory roommates aren't going to take on the biggest prisoner, not even with that gun Tomas thinks he's got hidden.

But asleep? Yeah, they'll try. It's also why they do all the cooking. Tomas and Andrew are both lazy enough not to care as long as they get fed. Oscar knows there will come a day where hard choices will have to be made. They can't watch their backs and Tiny's forever.

"Hey, Oscar, something's happening outside."

He tosses the dish towel and hurries to where Tiny is looking out the bank of windows that face the main courtyard. There's no sound of gunfire, but the dead outside are falling, many with head wounds reminiscent of rifle fire.

"You see anything, Axel?"

The shaggy blond shakes his head, angling to look to the east, while Oscar tries the west edge of the windows. Even Andrew gets interested at last.

"That's a lot of fucking head shots," the skinny little asshole remarks.

"Gotta be military, right, Oscar?" Tiny asks.

He shrugs. "Could be. But this is Georgia. Lotta damn redneck hunters out there. Can't imagine the military would have any wish to rescue men like us if the world's gone as bad as I think. Probably after any supplies left behind."

Even Andrew's included in the worried looks they exchange.

"Not a smart idea to be standing in front of the fucking windows then, is it?" Tomas says. The cocky bastard still comes to look.

It takes about an hour for the hundreds of walking dead to fall. That's when they see the first humans in months. Two heavily armored Humvees rumble into view, followed by two semis pulling battered trailers.

"See? Gotta be after supplies with those trucks."

But that's proven wrong fairly quickly. The Humvees disgorge troops that hit the ground in groups of four. Each team spreads out among the dead, two of each team rolling bodies and stabbing them in the skull with some sort of pronged tool that reminds Oscar of a pitchfork. The remaining two stand guard, rifles at ready, moving alongside their teammates.

At some preset signal, hazmat suited people emerge from the semi trucks' sleeper cabs. A sniper climbs to the top of each trailer.

The new teams begin rolling bodies onto tarps and hauling them onto the trailers.

"They aren't here for supplies," Oscar mutters. "They're here for the prison." There's no other reason to clear out bodies. It wouldn't matter to supply raiders if they're leaving rotters behind.

"What do we do?" Tiny asks.

"Wait. Pray they need workers, maybe."

"Or we attack and escape when they come for the food," Tomas suggests.

"With what? That damned gun you got hidden ain't got enough ammo to get through all those armed men. You see the way they're moving? That's military training. We attack them and they're gonna mow us down like those monsters outside." Oscar doesn't understand the mentality of men like Tomas, where owning a gun makes them magically a badass.

"So, what do we do?" Axel's still watching out the windows.

"Be as non-threatening as possible."

Tiny sighs. Oscar understands. The sheer size of his friend makes him seem a threat. Oscar's a big guy at 6'3", but Tiny's five inches taller and fifty pounds heavier even with their time locked in here.

"Stay sitting if you can. Keep your hands in sight. Think of meeting them as gentling one of your pups."

Tiny nods and takes a seat, reaching for a deck of cards and setting up a game of solitaire.

"Axel, sit at a different table." The blond just shrugs and sits at a different table, snagging a book off the counter.

They've got access to the garden courtyard between the cafeteria and the classroom unit. Also the classroom unit itself and thank fuck for that because there's actually a bathroom on that unit and it's got the library. But they prefer the cafeteria because of all the big windows.

"Got orders for us too, cabrón?" Tomas sneers.

"Nah. You two are more than welcome to get your asses shot."

He goes back to watching the work outside while Tomas and Andrew retreat to the kitchen area to come up with whatever dumbass plan he hopes doesn't get the rest of them killed in the crossfire.

~*~ SW ~*~

Clearing the prison is going like clockwork. The outside is almost too easy, like shooting fish in a barrel. They just put shooters up on top of the semi-trailers and let them aim through the concertina wire at the top.

They found the front gates actually half open, which explains the number of civilians inside. Wander in, then too stupid to find the gap again.

Clearing the outside takes an hour, and they leave the clean-up teams to work and take two sets of three teams inside the main building. The warden's office is easy enough to find upstairs of the infirmary in the first wing, and Merle is right about it running off-grid. The electric is running here as well as it does at home, courtesy of the massive solar panel field outside.

Merle finds the map of the facility and the team leaders cluster around it as he describes it. He points at the central corridor they saw is clear. Two wings arch off the central corridor like a bug's antenna, with the inmate units at the rear like a big H.

"Came in here. Used for visitors and bad weather rec. Four blocks, each with fifty cells up and downstairs around a central common room. Got bathrooms and showers in each. Infirmary and admin offices here in this wing. Cafeteria on the other side of the main courtyard. Classroom unit on the other side of the cafeteria also houses the laundry. Then the four cell blocks with exercise yards in between buildings. Back closest to us is the rec unit. Gym downstairs, chapel and movie room upstairs. Outbuildings are for the work training and the boot camp barracks."

Scout looks thoughtful. "We'll get the outbuildings clear once we clear this one. With the bodies outside, I'm guessing someone released at least some of prisoners. Didn't go well from the number of walkers."

They only found one body on this level, a skeletonized guard who ended things himself. The infirmary below... well, at least someone put the cuffed prisoners down as they turned. There's a lot of weird skeletonish things to clear out.

"Might have rioted," Shane suggests. "Unless the warden cut TV and phone privileges, they got the same information as the general public."

"Should probably upgrade that to 'did riot'," Merle says. "No man was gonna stay locked up if he could manage otherwise knowing what was out there. They'd outnumber the guards too much, especially at this security level."

"Alright. Shane, take Daryl's and Rachel's teams. Clear the other side, starting at the cafeteria. Two teams in, one on guard. I'll take Merle's and Amanda's. We'll start at the gym and work to the inmate units."

He nods and his two team leaders follow him downstairs to the central area where the rest are waiting. "Rachel, you're on guard duty."

The woman assents and her team falls in to follow his and Daryl's. He assesses the room before he unlocks the doors and sees what a casual look didn't show. The jumpsuited men here aren't walkers.

The three he can see all raise their hands. The one in the back, a broad-shouldered, bald man, tilts his head toward the kitchen, which is open plan like most prison facilities but has counters high enough for a man to crouch behind. He also signals 'two' with his fingers.

Shane nods acknowledgement and finishes turning the key as he does the triple activation of his throat radio that signals trouble. Then he flicks his mike open and calls out, "Why don't you fellas just all step to the windows and keep your hands where we can see them?"

All three comply easily, although making the one man stand reveals he's a damn mountain in human form. He and Rick step into the room first. It's a broad, open room meant to feed about a hundred at once based on the table count.

He leads his team along the wall closest to the compliant men and stands guard with Maria while Rick and T-Dog zip tie the men. Daryl's team edges the other side of the room, keeping a wary eye on the kitchen.

"Way I see it, gentlemen, you're outnumbered. You can ditch whatever dumbass plan you're cooking up and we'll consider it the product of fearing the unknown. Or we can see how men in prison jumpsuits fare against military weapons and body armor." Shane's words echo in the big room as he keeps his weapon ready.

Behind him, he hears one of the men mumble, "Got a gun back there. Guard's. Not sure on ammo."

And apparently, the man with the gun is a complete moron, because he stands and takes aim.

It's a deadly mistake in a room full of ex-cops.

Daryl hits the kitchen before Shane, kicking the gun into the cafeteria where Brady scoops it up and clears the chamber. The wannabe gunman is choking on his own blood, hit at least four times that Shane can see.

The other man is smarter, huddled on the floor with his hands clasped behind his head. "Wasn't me, man, don't shoot me."

"How about you stand up real slow and step over your stupid friend?" Shane suggests.

The ratty little man complies, letting himself be zip tied and pushed onto a seat at a table. Shane orders the others to sit as well, keeping two seats in between. His team spreads out to stand guard over each, while Scout and Merle's team step into the cafeteria.

She sends Daryl's team to clear the storeroom and comes to stand where she can assess the four men. Wisely, none of them speak, which means the only sound is the dying man.

"Walsh?"

He recognizes the formality and answers her in Chamorro, describing the brief interactions. She nods and sits in front of the man Rick's guarding, tugging down her balaclava. "What's your name?"

They all react when they realize she's female. The huge guy relaxes, the blond seems amused, the ratty one tenses, and the whistleblower tilts his head to take a good look at her rank.

"Oscar Lowell, Staff Sergeant." He flexes a shoulder toward the two men to his right. "That's Big Tiny and Axel. Man dying behind the counter's Tomas, and his shit for brains friend is Andrew."

Ease of recognizing the rank means he's familiar with the military, maybe a vet. His tone's carefully polite.

"And how did you get locked up in the cafeteria?"

"Was in the classroom with Tiny, wing next door. Our guard got a summons back to the main floor due to a riot. He didn't lock the doors between the two units and the courtyard, but he did lock the exit into the main building. Axel was cleaning the cafeteria and the other two were on laundry roster."

She exchanges a look with her father and he nods. "Rest of you got last names?"

"Waterman, ma'am." The blond has an accent that reminds Shane of Merle's when the man reverts to what he suspects is his childhood accent.

"Prescott. Everybody calls me Big Tiny, but my mamas named me Titus."

The man Shane's guarding doesn't answer right away, so he raps the back of his head with his knuckles. "Answer the staff sergeant, and it better be the truth or you'll join your partner in the kitchen."

"Myers." The reply is sullen.

Merle snags Bryce and they leave the room, leaving Gareth and Myra behind from Merle's team for today. The two seem more curious than wary, and neither seem bothered that no one's assisting Tomas.

"I assume you're all aware the dead are cannibalizing the living now?" Scout asks.

"Bit hard to miss with all these windows," the blond volunteers. "From what we saw, some of the inmates got out, either let go or rioted, but they didn't get far. Heard a guard say they were letting the boot camp go on Governor's orders though."

"Might have been one of his last communications then. World outside isn't the one you used to know. There's no government left, no one to save the people except what we do ourselves."

"That why you're all dressed as military but only you and the sergeant over there wear any rank?" Oscar asks. "Not the same service either."

"In a nutshell. I may train my people to a military standard, but most of our troops were lost in the early days after the fall. You serve?"

"Four years in the Navy after high school."

"Sad place for a sailor to end up."

"Got stupid and got caught."

"And what did you get caught at?"

"Second degree burglary. I was seven months in on a year's sentence when we were locked in."

Scout studies him for a moment and then looks to Big Tiny. "And you, Mr. Prescott?"

"Got caught in a stolen car. Got five years. Was up for a parole hearing in August when I served my eighteen months."

"Mr. Waterman?"

"Held up a store with a water pistol. Only they didn't believe it was a water pistol when they found me and decided I used my brother's .38. Ten years without the possibility of parole. Served seven of it so far."

"That leaves you, Mr. Myers."

"Battery. Five years."

"I assume you mean aggravated battery to have a sentence that long. Or you have a string of simple battery misdemeanors. Who was your victim?"

The man just sets his jaw and refuses to answer. Shane gives him another rap on the head. "Girlfriend."

She meets Shane's eyes. Whatever she's thinking with the others, this one's not going anywhere their people are.

Merle and Bryce return with a stack of medical files and pass them to Scout.

"Let's see how truthful these gentlemen were." She flips through each one, although her glance to Big Tiny has a warmth to it that makes Shane wonder what extenuating circumstances are noted. On the last, her expression settles into the careful blank mask he saw her wear when she slit Ed Peletier's throat.

But when she looks up, it's at Axel Waterman first. "It seems the prison psychologist finds you to be a bit of a harmless misfit, Mr. Waterman, and would have recommended parole had state law allowed. Since there's no longer a state to enforce it, I'm going to consider your time served." She slides him the folder and surprising Shane, tells Maria to cut his zip ties.

The shaggy blond flexes his hands and pulls the folder close, but makes no effort to move.

"Mr. Prescott and Mr. Lowell, your files read similarly. Let them go."

T-Dog doesn't hesitate to comply and free Big Tiny, but Shane catches the pause Rick makes before he yanks his knife blade through the tie.

"What about me?" Myers whines. "What did that crazy bitch write about me? It's going to be lies, because she has it out for black men."

"If that were the case, she wouldn't have written positive notes on their progress. I'm trying to figure out what moron approved you for this facility with your history of battery convictions. Is there a female member of your family you haven't copped charges over? Your 'girlfriend' was a fifteen-year-old girl and why they didn't add statutory rape to the charges, I don't know."

Shane's seen some stupid shit by prosecutors over the years. He's betting the girl's poor and not white.

"I got the right to education as much as anyone."

'I suppose you did. I see no real evidence you were pursuing that education. In fact, the last recommendation Dr. Fuller wrote was that you be transferred to allow a bed for someone willing to do the work. If the world hadn't ended, you'd be somewhere else by now."

"You're just like that uppity bitch, judging a man by standards he can't meet. What do you know about doing prison time?"

"Today's not the first time I've stepped inside these doors, Mr. Myers. Although it has changed a bit in fifteen years. I'm well aware of what it takes for a man to come out of prison a better man than he went in. And I'm also aware that some men are beyond saving. You're a sex offender by proclivity if not by conviction. Your own words to the prison shrink damn you. There's no place for you in the world we're building."

She rises from her seat. "There will be less clean up if you take him outside. We have a prison to clear."

Shane hauls the man upright, even as he protests, shoving him along. Rick looks a little green around the gills, but the rest of his team falls in behind him as he takes the man outside.

~*~ Oscar ~*~

"Staff Sergeant!" Oscar calls out.

She turns, focusing on him with those vivid blue eyes at odds with her other coloring.

"What are we supposed to do?"

"Join a crew outside to get rid of the dead, if you like. Or walk out the front gates. You're free and pardoned of your crimes."

"If we help, does that mean we get to stay? You're not just here for supplies, and you said the world's gone outside." He wonders what that means for his kids. Surely his brother kept them safe.

"The community settling here would not welcome more men, I'm afraid. But my own might consider a few hard workers."

There's the sound of a gunshot and Oscar startles despite himself. Andrew's been suspected by other inmates of slipping through the cracks. He supposes now the penalty for sex crimes is severe.

He glances toward his fellow inmates and Axel nods. Big Tiny shrugs. "We'll join the clean-up crew. If someone can bring us a sheet, we'll start in here."

Tomas stopped breathing as he called out to her, and one of the men stepped behind the counter and returned with a bloody knife. There's something complicated going on here. He needs more information before he risks being on the road to find his family.

She gives the order and collects her teams and leaves. By the time the pair who went to fetch the sheet return, so has the team that took Andrew outside. They oversee them rolling Tomas into the improvised carrier and the big guy he warned about Tomas tells them to take the body to the semis for loading.

For the first time since May, he steps outside the prison doors.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol huffs a sigh as she studies the three men in front of her. They look better now, freshly showered and in civilian clothes. She's grateful for preparing for Jazz's growth spurt or they wouldn't have had clothes for the tallest man. He keeps petting at his clothes as if amazed they fit.

"Normally, you would be assigned a little apartment here in the Village, but some of our residents just survived a horrible attack on their camp and are wary of new people." Hell, they're wary of Carol's people. "And I don't think you'd find a full-sized bed very comfortable, Mr. Prescott."

He smiles, a rather sweet expression. "I'll sleep wherever you tell me, Mrs. Dixon."

She's sure he probably would. The men are openly grateful to be free of that prison cafeteria. "I've had a few RVs moved down between the main house and the cabins out back. We'll sort something better out as we go along, but that'll give you two taller fellows a queen bed to sleep in."

"Ma'am, we've been sleeping on the floor the last near seven months. Any bed is an improvement," Axel says.

She smiles and motions for them to follow. Augustus trots over to walk beside her. They already have backpacks with a welcome notebook and toiletries, and her people made sure the three RVs are warm and furnished with necessities.

"You can use the bathrooms in the RVs and the electric should hold up to running the heat and minor use. I'm going to ask that you please stay with the RVs at night until things are a little more settled. Someone will bring you back in the morning."

They don't object, so she continues. "If there is something urgent at night, knock at the cabin with the blue door. That's Scout and Shane."

"They're in charge of security, right?" Axel asks. He seems to be working as spokesperson for the trio.

"Exactly."

She points up at the deck as they go around the main house. "Second door from the end is another place you can go, but if you wake Merle, it better be good."

"He's... council, like you?"

"Yes. This part of the property was Dixon land. The farm was Eldridge. Most of the council are Dixons. Eldridge family didn't want the headache. Shane, Scout, Merle, myself. Then Hershel and Tyreese, who you'll meet probably at supper. I'll introduce you around."

"It's not that we don't appreciate the hospitality, but even with the night restriction, y'all are being awfully nice to a bunch of convicts."

Carol smiles at Axel and makes sure the other two see it as well. "It's a world for second chances for those who take them. You aren't the only ex-cons here. Merle served in the same place you did, a long time ago. A few of the others have a past felony or two."

"That explains what the staff sergeant said then. She visited her dad there?"

"Yes, all of the children did. Before my time, but it gave them all a unique sort of sympathy. Don't disappoint her faith in your ability to do good."

They've reached the RVs, parked in a semi-circle beyond the two cabins. Jamie's begun construction on his, so Carol expects some sort of announcement any day now. Several other foundations have been poured, although other than Daryl, none have applied for the cabin kits except Michonne, leaving those for families.

"Why are the cabins separate?" Oscar asks.

"Scout's was down here before, her little haven when she was on leave. Daryl wanted to build near her, and the decided to mark out a little village for the family. There's another cluster of cabins up closer, beyond the equipment barn."

"It's a nice view, with the animals and all."

She looks out toward the pastures and smiles. "Hopefully, you'll feel that way still if you ever have to chase escaped lambs. Which reminds me. Work details. You're getting a few days to settle in, but any idea what you three want to do?"

Axel shrugs. "Been a mechanic, but was training as a cook at the unit."

"Worked warehouse work mostly, after the service," Oscar adds. "Was in the welding program though. And Tiny was training dogs and in the vet assistance program."

She tackles the easiest one first. The huge man's eyes haven't left the animals in the distance, and his fascination with Augustus is endearing. Scout did give her their details, and the big man has a good heart and a lot of bad luck. "Would you like to continue to work with animals, Mr. Prescott?"

He nods and smiles. "I would. You got a farm here. Lots more than dogs and chickens."

"I'll introduce you to Hershel and my son Jazz. Hershel is our veterinarian, and Jazz runs the sheep farm. You can train as far as you want to go."

"I'd like that a lot. And nobody calls me Mr. Prescott. Just Big Tiny. Or my mamas call me Titus."

She nods and turns to Axel. "Which do you prefer? Mechanic or cook or learn something new?"

"Could I do both? I like to cook, but I like to tinker too."

"Easily done. I'll give you a couple meal shifts a week as a relief cook and you can report to our head mechanic in between. I'll introduce you to Jim tonight as well."

"Y'all have a lot of building projects here, ma'am. I'm able and willing to learn." Oscar is the only one she hasn't seen smile.

"You've already met your boss then. That's Merle's domain."

"Saw the Blackbird vehicles. My brother worked for some of his paint subcontractors if he's the owner." He sighs and meets her eyes. "It's a lot to ask, but have your people been up to Ellijay yet?"

"We haven't, but it can be moved up the pipeline. You willing to join a run team?"

"To know one way or another about my kids and brother and niece? Hell yes."

"What about you gentlemen? I know Titus' file has his family in Savannah and Axel's in Macon. Savannah is a little out of our range at present but we would supply you and your friends for a trip. Macon... I wouldn't recommend it unless the walkers have drifted off more."

"I've got no particular attachment to my brother, Mrs. Dixon," Axel says. "But I'll ride with any team looking for their families. They looked after the misfit white guy when they didn't have to."

Big Tiny looks torn. "My mamas... I'm not sure they could make it with all this. Last call I had, Mama was sick with the flu and Moms said it was just a precaution that she was at the hospital because of her age and diabetes. I might not be a smart man, but I can figure out the odds."

Carol understands, but her heart aches for him. She guesses he's had a while to come to terms with it.

"How about you three each claim an RV and put your bags inside? Supper will start serving in about ten minutes."

They do so and follow her readily back, and she doesn't suppress the smile when Big Tiny manages to make a new friend out of Augustus along the way.

~*~ Gareth ~*~

Gareth huddles into his heavy coat and leans on the porch railing. His mother, Alex, Cynthia, and Myra are braving seats on the patio furniture. Their people are spread out between the four bunkhouses now, but with the orphans sharing with Gareth's family so far, a private meeting this late means lurking outside.

"It's a viable place," Mary's saying. She and himself are the only two on today's prison trip. "Two of the housing units will need heavy cleaning because inmates were left inside. But the other two are livable even if we all took our own cell. The kitchen's wonderful for a large group."

"And it should stay secure. It's got the upgraded security fence and guard towers. Merle thinks his tech guys can hack the security systems too," he adds.

"The electric works? The water?" He can understand Cynthia's concerns there.

"All of it. More than we'll be able to use, since it's meant to support five hundred or so. The gardens will need to be tilled and replanted come spring, and fencing put in for farm animals, but there's even two poultry houses there from where they had egg production. Merle suggested rabbits in those over time and let chickens run loose."

"And they're going to get us started?" Alex asks.

"Said if we stay the winter and chip in, that's our payment," Mary replies. "It's closer than it was before. We know they'll help us."

"They're being careful with the kids." Myra glances toward the closed door. "Letting them settle in and get to know the various couples. Carol says they'll get it sorted by Christmas."

Gareth mulls that over. The boys he thinks will stay together, at his mother's request. They're cousins, after all, so letting them keep what family they have is important. The girls he isn't sure on yet. He suspects if she wasn't so busy, Carol would adopt all three herself. But he's glad the children's preferences seem to be the deciding point.

"Everyone in agreement we're staying until March at least?" he asks.

"After today? Seeing how serious they are that not everyone can be saved, yeah. Not sure I like those prisoners here, but they think them safe enough Carol was alone with them." Mary's emphatic on the positive, but she's loyal in a way to Scout saving her.

Alex is the only one who doesn't look completely convinced, so Gareth waves the women to go inside in the warmth.

"What's eating at you, little brother?" he asks, taking a seat. Everyone is healing physically, even the two women medflighted, but he suspects losing his wife is a blow Alex isn't coming back from anytime soon.

"I know they came, and came in force. But we're just a drain on resources now."

"Maybe for a while, but I've spent a lot of time working with Merle. He's seeing our new community as an investment. More land that can be used for farming and raising animals. I think he would prefer we stay, but he's understanding of why we don't want to."

"There's doctors here for Cynthia."

"And they're promising one of them will come stay when she's close to time, and Mom asked to do some nursing training that she'll start after Christmas."

Alex is quiet and he begins to worry it's the responsibility of leadership that might also be an issue. Making the offer causes something to ache within him, but this is his brother. "You could stay here, Alex."

He's hit the nail on the head, because his brother flinches. "And wouldn't that make me a coward?"

"Not to me." If not leading, not facing people who remind him of his late wife, if that's what it takes, he can't blame Alex. "Not to Mom. You've got a while to decide. Take your time."

He sighs and nods. "Did they really execute a prisoner like Mom said?"

"Yeah. His file had a history of violence toward women. Glad she isn't setting someone like that free to maybe find others."

Alex makes a noise of agreement and stands. "Let's get inside before we freeze."

The hug is unexpected and brief, leaving Gareth to think over the conversation a minute. He doesn't want to live in a different community from Alex, but if that's what comes to pass, at least he'll be safe here.

~*~ Oscar ~*~

Oscar's not a bit surprised when both his friends end up in his RV instead of sleeping. The thing is top of the line, so even Tiny doesn't look that out of place on the couch. When the council woman, Carol, said RVs, he expected a lot worse.

"Can't decide of it's too much noise being with all the people again or too quiet to sleep without Tiny snoring," Axel drawls. "You think the welcome wagon is legit?"

"Oddly enough, I do. They made it pretty obvious they aren't shy about removing anyone they think is a threat, and one of the guys on the Marine's team has prison tats. She's trusting him to guard her back."

"Her husband trusts him, better said," Tiny adds. Oscar thinks people shortchange the big man's powers of observation sometimes. "Man's a cop if I ever saw one."

"At least now we know how they have clothes for you," Axel jokes. "That kid's nearly as big as you, and probably still growing."

Tiny shrugs, but Oscar knows he's pleased not to be wearing over or undersized jumpsuits.

"How was the trip down to help with the sheep?" he asks. It was hard to let Tiny walk off after months of having each other's backs even before the dead rose. But honestly, three teenagers and a pair of dogs weren't likely to be a danger to the man.

"There are a lot of sheep. I didn't know that people milked sheep, but I'm going down to help in the morning. He says we just missed helping put the last ones in the freezer."

"That might explain the authentic shepherd's pie we had for supper," Axel comments.

"There's another property of farm animals too. I'm going to help with the laundry shift in the morning and get a bigger tour."

Tiny looks so content that Oscar's glad the situation didn't escalate today. Axel got drawn into the mechanics, who acted like Christmas came early to have a new tinkerer to work with. Two of them are women, which he hopes doesn't pose a problem with Axel's unique personality.

He isn't a bad guy, not like Andrew who had at least a half dozen citations for gunning, but he can put his foot in his mouth faster than any man Oscar's ever known. It was a source of amusement to female guards at least.

And he's got a morning appointment with the firing range instead of the building crew. They're actually serious about the trip north to find answers about his family.

For tonight, he's going to enjoy being free. It'll be nice not to have to sleep in shifts for protection.

This just might be the real deal for them.


	46. Patricia's Early Christmas Present

**December 24, 2010**

~*~ CP ~*~

A rapid knock at the door wakes Carol. She blinks at the clock as Merle rolls to his feet and goes to open the door, pulling on a shirt over his pajama pants as he goes. It's a quarter til five, so she's hoping it's not an emergency, although at least the knock was on the interior door.

Sophia's practically bouncing in place. "Patricia's having her baby!"

Carol makes it to her feet then, but it seems the Greenes have it under control. Beth's waiting patiently at the foot of the spiral staircase with the bag Patricia packed a week ago. She isn't intending on staying at the infirmary much longer than the birth, but everyone agreed they feel safer there rather than a home birth with Patricia's age and first-time pregnancy.

Hershel is helping Patricia down the stairs, and the reason for his caution is evident when a contraction hits before they reach the bottom step. As it passes, he notes the gathering audience. "Her contractions are about five minutes apart now, so we figure we might as well switch venues while we can. Edwards will be on duty in half an hour, and someone should go wake Cricket."

Carol taps Sophia on the shoulder and she dashes off to the back stairway closest to the garage. Merle slips past her into the hallway, fully dressed now.

"It's cold as hell out there and no sense in you walking it," he states. Patricia laughs when she realizes he's offering to literally carry her to the infirmary and surprises everyone by accepting. He swings her up in his arms, lifting her easily, and Beth and Hershel follow.

That just leaves Carol and Isabelle. "Go make sure the boys are awake and let them know she's gone to the infirmary. Tell them they can come check in on her after morning chores and breakfast."

"She'll be okay, right?" The girl looks worried about her foster mother.

"She's healthy and the pregnancy has been an easy one, so everything looks good so far, sweetie. If you're really that worried, wake the boys and then grab a couple of cereal bars and go straight there."

It earns her a grateful smile from the teenager, who trots off to do as bid. Carol hears Sophia's distinct running stride overhead and calls out, "No running in the house!" out of habit before going to get dressed.

Homestead's about to have its first human birth, and the excitement is contagious.

~*~ HG ~*~

When Patricia knocked at his door shortly after midnight to get him to check if her contractions were legitimate ones or another round of Braxton Hicks, Hershel honestly didn't expect it to be the real thing. He's warned her for a while that despite an early January due date, it might be mid-January before she delivers, because none of the medical staff want to go anywhere near inducing without an actual obstetrician.

They've worked together for longer than either of his marriages lasted, honestly, since Patricia hired on as his veterinary assistant straight out of training when she was twenty, the same year Maggie was born. In her own way, Patricia's put up with him through the hard times too, and she supported Josephine staunchly through his drinking years. Her marrying his farm foreman, Otis, a year later after she came to work for him just solidified her ties to the Greene family. She looked after Maggie after Jo died, too. When Annette came along, Patricia became her best friend so quickly you'd think the two women grew up together.

And now, the woman who loved kids so much her reputation as a foster mother kept a steady stream of troubled kids going through her home and coming out the better when she was allowed to keep them long enough, is having a baby of her own.

He misses Annette and Otis both today. His wife would have been overjoyed to see this baby. Otis... the man deserved to see this happen.

So, he's standing in for both of them today.

"Well, we're definitely going to see a baby sooner rather than later," Cricket declares. She's grinning, but nervous. Even with two other fully trained people physicians, she's overseen all the pregnancies in Homestead, and she's 'trained' by attending all the animal births in the meantime. But this is still her first human birth, and she doesn't even have the side experience of seeing it as a parent or doula yet. "Eight centimeters already. Might see the baby before lunch."

He's glad she glad she said might and not should, since he remembers Annette stalling out around eight and taking seven more hours before she delivered Beth.

"Everything's good?" Patricia asks. They've got the monitors hooked up for the moment, allowing Cricket, Carol, and Lilly to take vitals. Patricia's said any of the staff is welcome since they need more folks with experience, but Christopher's delivered a baby even as a nurse, and Felipe says he's seen enough to not need a refresher. Edwards is watching TV in the staff room, so they've covered all the bases for now.

"All vitals are right on target. The baby's showing no signs of distress during contractions, so I'm going to unhook you a while. Walk around if you want to, but stay off your back if you can. Let gravity help a bit. If your water hasn't broken by the time you're at ten centimeters, we'll break it, but the more experienced doctors say to wait for now."

Taking care not to brush against the peripheral IV catheter in her left hand, Hershel helps her angle back to her feet. She's in a nightgown instead of a hospital gown, and the only hospital concession is that she has warm, non-skid socks on instead of regular ones. Glad the infirmary as a whole is a good-sized building, they go on their first of what will probably be several circuits of the building's interior.

~*~ SP ~*~

"Hey, Sophia. We're gonna take Beth and Al's shifts this morning so they can stay up here," Jazz says, jarring Sophia out of her conversation with Isabelle about whether Patricia's baby will be a boy or a girl. Isabelle's foster mother wants it to be a surprise, so even Patricia doesn't know. "And Audrey says she'll take your lunch shift, Isabelle, so you're not busy if you get more news."

"I'm about done. Was just talking." She thinks it's sweet that Jazz thought about the fact that none of Patricia's fosterlings are going to want to go far. Patrick's actually working his breakfast shift, but he's been clumsy enough that Glynnis kindly told him he's on dish duty instead of food. From the looks of it, Maggie's not going out with her team today either, since she's sitting with Jimmy and nursing a cup of coffee and the rest of her team gone already.

She follows him to get geared up for the cold before stepping out into the chill air. "I can't believe it's almost Christmas."

"Excited about the wedding tomorrow?" he asks, well aware it's not the usual Christmas anticipation.

"Duh. Of course I am, just like you are. And about the baby today." Because the baby is sort of a cousin, since she knows her parents have firmly insisted Patricia's home is right there with them for as long as she's willing. She'll get to help take care of it, just like with Lori's baby later.

He just smiles, hauling the barn door open as they reach it. He always takes care of his sheep before breakfast, going down in the dark in the Polaris with whatever helper he has for the day. He was the only boy not in the bunk room for her announcement this morning, since he's been having the new guy, Big Tiny, help him with the morning milking since he arrived. Sophia's kind of glad, because that was her least favorite extra chore, especially after it got cold. She knows Beth's also grateful, because she used to milk the two mini-Jerseys each morning, but the big man's taken over that chore too.

But the horses still need to be turned out, along with the other farm animals sheltered in the big barn, mostly the expectant mothers. The rest stay in the pasture even at night, courtesy of the pole barns built down there to give them shelter. It doesn't take anything more than a can of grain to get the goats and two female donkeys to follow her, along with the one jenny's little foal. She makes sure to scratch the long-legged baby's head when she butts against her. She never knew how funny donkeys were until she got to know the little foal Jazz calls Loonette.

Jazz is beside her, no horses in sight. "We're gonna ride over to the horse farm," he says when she asks. "Titus is saddling them."

Big Tiny must have come up while Sophia was getting her gaggle of critters to follow her. "You gonna get the poultry then?"

"Yep, if you think you can handle the gate with Loonette trying to eat your coat."

She yelps, coaxing the tail of her mid-thigh garment out of the little donkey's mouth by virtue of offering her a few tidbits from the grain can. Jazz is actually laughing as he splits off to fiddle with the gate that keeps the poultry in their confined coop for the night. It doesn't always keep the eggs in the laying boxes, which is why someone used to walk the fields before it got so cold that even the poultry aren't trying to hide little nests in the pasture. The original chicken coop closer to the main house is currently not being used, but it'll end up as a chick brooding pen when spring comes.

The birds are less problematic since once the gate's open, they wander out of shelter on their own down the connecting pasture chute. And most of Sophia's charges are happy to be free in the fields and gambol off to rejoin their friends. Loonette, the little brat, is trying to eat Sophia's coat again.

"At least I have a witness I'm not the one messing it up," she jokes as they finally get the foal to follow her patiently waiting mother.

"Teeth marks are a bit distinctive even without a witness," Jazz replies. "Although I could imply you've been biting your own coat. Think Mama would believe me?"

She smacks him on the shoulder, laughing, as they reach the barn again. Big Tiny's got to be the fastest person she's ever seen in getting horses tacked up, because two horses are outside already, huffing at being tied to the hitching posts instead of on the move.

She goes to Spinda. Of the three horses kept here now, the paint's her favorite, even if she's the most likely to give a rider a toss. She knows her mother would prefer she rode Imbri or Moonshine, and she might, if it were just her and Jazz. But Big Tiny's still learning to ride, and that means Moonshine is the best mount for him, and Spinda looks like a pony if Jazz tries to ride her. Even gaining three inches in her own growth spurt, he's still outdistancing her because of course, he just had to grow again too. He's still exactly a foot taller than she is.

"Gotta stop by the armory on the way out," Jazz reminds her as Big Tiny brings Moonshine out. The third of their trio grimaces. Big Tiny hates firearms as much as Sophia's fascinated by them, but after Honey pointed out that knowing how to shoot is a necessity to keeping animals safe from predators if they got around the fences, the man set to learning with an intensity Sophia envies.

"A'right. Gotta go make sure everything's good. We're gonna get snow sooner or later," Big Tiny says.

Jazz nods, glancing at the sky. "Probably not today, but yeah, soon, I think."

The three riders mount up, since Sophia knows whoever's on armory duty today knows what they take out and will bring everything out to them.

Maybe by the time they get back from the rounds with the other livestock, the baby will have arrived.

~*~ CP ~*~

It's been two hours since the household was roused by Patricia's labor, and the woman's weathering it with an ease Carol envies. They don't have anyone willing to do an epidural here, so right now the options are Demerol or going without. Patricia says Demerol only ever made her feel drunk, so she's pacing as best as a pregnant woman can, alternating between Maggie and Hershel for her support.

Beth's on the ward too, but the teenager is playing cards with Isabelle on one of the empty beds, alert, but staying carefully out of the way. Although invited, all three of Patricia's boys decided they preferred waiting for the baby in the community center after checking in with their foster mother right after breakfast.

"Well, now I know why women say it feels like they peed themselves," Patricia remarks.

Maggie, her current walk partner, giggles. "Let's go clean up a bit."

While they're in the bathroom, Carol and Cricket tidy away the evidence that, at last, the blonde's water broke on its own. Neither of them really wanted to learn that skill if they didn't have to.

After a contraction in the bathroom and another before she can get back across the length of the hospital ward, Cricket has her lie down for a check. She guides Carol through checking as well, once again letting her learn what dilation stages feel like. It's so much different from the chart, but she nods to confirm Cricket's assessment.

"Ten centimeters now."

All the other vitals are still good, but the contractions are rolling hard enough now that Patricia declines to get back up to walk. Between Hershel and Maggie, they get help her change positions in the bed to find what feels best.

"C'mon, baby. Home stretch now," Cricket mutters, making Carol laugh.

~*~ LG ~*~

Lori rubs her back against the never quite gone ache she's been sporting for at least a week now. She gets more back rubs than she ever anticipated, as Daryl's recruited helpers in Scout and Shane. She thought it would be weird, at first, especially with Shane, but the skills the man's picked up from helping Scout's ongoing recovery from her burns serve him well for pregnancy back massage. And _damn_, if Scout doesn't give the world's best foot rubs, she doesn't know who could top it. She's spoiled rotten and she knows it.

But today, with Patricia in labor, she's nervous. It's why she's working in the laundry instead of at her inventory desk. She just can't sit still, between nerves and backache.

At thirty-two weeks, she's got probably two months to go still. Remembering the stalled labor with Carl when they couldn't get him to turn from breech position, she worries both for herself and for Patricia. Of everyone here, the older woman deserves a healthy baby and an easy labor.

"Hey, Lori, you think mine's ready yet? Dropped it off yesterday."

Lori turns and smiles at Rick. Scout's seven teams are on an off-duty day today, so she'll probably see two-thirds of them at some point, either dropping off or picking up laundry. Rick's one of the ones who likes to drop his laundry bag off the day before he's got down time. She checks the bags on their sturdy hooks, finding his easily since it's one of the few red bags.

He steps around her to snag it, giving her that little huff most of the men do if they see her about to lift any weight. Most, she huffs right back, but with Rick, she lets it slide. The pregnancy's a weird enough subject between them most days.

She remembers she has something to tease him about and takes the chance they've gotten that far in being friends. "Unless you've developed a very interesting new habit, not all that laundry was yours."

He blushes like a school boy. "Think she did that on purpose."

"_She_ has very good taste in lingerie. Might have had my teenage helper yesterday looking envious." Isabelle's at the age where pretty underthings are something she wants, but isn't really brave enough to tackle yet. Hell, Lori's envious herself. It seems like she'll never fit into anything like that again as her pregnancy expands her body further and further.

The blush continues and he seems at a loss for words.

"Oh, hon, I'm teasing. I was actually glad to see someone seems to be staying with you instead of you trailing around on their schedule." While it could be a one-time thing, his reaction makes her think maybe not. She wonders who the lady in question is, but figures it's rude to ask, all things considered.

He shuffles a little, bashful in a way she still finds a little sweet. "Rosita's stayed the last three nights. At what point is a woman moved in with you?"

She thinks it over. "Well, before, I'd say look for her toiletries and if more than half your clothes' space is hers. Not sure how that would apply here. Best way might be to see her place and see how much of her things are there versus yours." Rosita isn't the first guess she would have made for where Rick's attempt at wild oat sowing would end, but at the same time, the Latina is vibrant in a way that balances out Rick's calm nature. Carl hasn't mentioned the woman yet, so he hasn't yet made the connection between Rick and Rosita or doesn't think it's serious.

"I guess I'll have to check and see then."

"Do you want her to be moved in?"

"Yeah." His smile is that pretty one that he passed on to Carl and she can't help but smile in response.

"Then ask her. She might say no, and it might even end if she's not ready, but she might be afraid to ask _you_ where it's going, after Abraham."

"It's not too soon?"

Lori can't help but laugh. "Oh, Rick, I'm really the world's worst judge there."

His glance toward her belly makes him laugh too. "I guess so. World's different now. Don't have to date for months, right?"

She shakes her head. "No. Get it figured out before she decides you aren't really interested and finds someone who is."

He steps easily into the hug she offers and she feels a surge of nostalgia as she gets a whiff of his cologne around his collar. She's happy that something more stable might be coming for him. Rick's meant to be half of a pair.

~*~ HG ~*~

"Why the hell do women do this more than once?"

Hershel is glad that Patricia can't see the grin he exchanges with Maggie over the top of her head. Maggie's got one of her hands as she bears down, her entire body working hard to push the baby into the world.

"Amnesia brought on by the scent of baby skin," Carol says matter-of-factly. She's in position to assist Cricket with the actual birth. Lilly's more on stand-by, since Carol wants to do the baby's care, so the other woman's designated herself as record-keeper for today. Isabelle and Beth are hovering to one side, looking both excited and petrified to be here at the same time.

He sees Edwards out of the corner of his eye where the doctor is staying out of the way, but alert, just as Cricket calls out. "We've got crowning, Patricia. Just a little while longer."

Patricia relaxes back on the birthing stool a bit, leaning into him where he's been put on a chair behind her to act as support. She moved from the bed when the urge to push started, no longer wanting to change positions. It's a new experience for him, since the option of the stool wasn't offered when either of his daughters were born. He's not sure if it's pain tolerance differences or the stool itself, but Patricia certainly seems to be coping better.

She catches her breath only to laugh as Carol's words catch up to her. "Amnesia, huh?"

The grey-haired woman nods, expression deliberately solemn. "Baby scent's addictive. Just wipes out the hours of labor with a few sniffs."

That sets all the women off into giggles and Hershel has to smile too.

It's just a brief respite, because the next contraction rolls in quickly, giving truth to Cricket's statement. In two more contractions, the med student turned obstetrician gives a happy, "Look at all that hair," as the baby starts a loud, healthy protest. She rolls the baby up onto the blanket Carol drops across Patricia's chest. Maggie helps Patricia hold the squalling newborn to her chest, while Carol works around them to clear blood and fluids off the baby.

It's the new mother who makes the announcement that everyone's been curious about. "Oh, a boy. A little boy."

Luckily, Carol's been warned about a certain habit of newborn boys and claps a blanket in place across his lap before he can pee all over his poor mama. There's laughter and crying combined, with Maggie and Patricia openly weeping. Carol isn't bothering to wipe away a few escaped tears either, and Hershel meets Cricket's eyes with medical concern and sees the young woman's emotional as well. But she's also professional, nodding that all's okay so far.

Eventually, the cord's cut courtesy of Patricia herself and she reluctantly lets her new son be spirited away for a quick clean and exam by Lilly and Carol. As Maggie moves to help Cricket with the final parts of labor, Patricia's leaned against him near bonelessly.

"I wasn't supposed to do this without him."

Oh, how he understands the sentiment, so he just holds her as she cries.

~*~ GR ~*~

They're halfway through loading up the backroom of the grocery store in Ellijay when the radio signal comes through.

"Healthy boy. Six pounds, four ounces. Matthew Otis Ingles." Glenn smiles at the happiness that practically drips through the radio as Dale relays the message. He acknowledges the message and since noisy forklifts haven't attracted any uglies, he yells into the sudden quiet and shares Dale's news.

The oompf he lets out when Honey tackle-hugs him is becoming common around his younger sister. She subbed in for Maggie today, and he's glad she's here. It's been weird the last two months when she was restricted to Homestead.

She grins at him mischievously. "Wanna bet me how soon it is before _Maggie_ wants a baby?"

"Nope. Not taking that bet." Because they've already had that discussion, and Maggie's been off birth control for a month now. He's just not going to share that just yet.

"Uh huh. You used to be easier to get sucker bets out of, Glenn. So sad." She gives him a smacking kiss on the cheek and goes off to rejoin Tara in shrink wrapping their goods for transport.

He can't help grinning to himself as he stands guard over the glass doors and windows of the supermarket itself. Baby Matthew's here safe, and he can feel the worry he has about Maggie getting pregnant ease.

~*~ CP ~*~

Patricia's asleep in a fresh nightgown, rolled so that one hand is firmly on the bassinet next to the bed. After a heavily emotional moment just after the baby delivered, she nursed her son and then begged a shower. Carol remembers that feeling well, as well as the one of not wanting to be far from the baby.

Luckily, Maggie had no qualms about standing next to the shower in the small bathroom, letting Patricia keep an eye on the sleeping newborn while she got clean. Carol hovered too, just in case Patricia's energy levels gave out.

It took exactly five minutes back in the bed before Patricia was sleeping as soundly as baby Matthew. It's not surprising since Carol knows her labor started around ten last night.

"Where did Daddy go?" Maggie asks, looking around.

"He said he was going to check in on her boys for her." Honestly, calling any of the four teenagers foster kids is a misnomer. They're all Patricia's as much as the newborn at her side. "Took the girls with him. He says he'll send lunch back for all of us. Cricket went home to shower and Lilly went to help the nursing home staff." Edwards is on duty, back in the staff room, so she's not worried about being today's medical personnel for Patricia.

The younger woman gathers up the cards the girls abandoned and shuffles absently. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure." Carol can't imagine lovely, generous Maggie asking anything she wouldn't be willing to answer.

"Were you on birth control before you had Sophia?"

Carol motions for Maggie to sit on the hospital bed nearest, and she joins her. "Several years, from my teens until we were married about a year."

"How long did it take you to get pregnant after?"

Oh. Now Carol understands. She's not as privy to medical information as Cricket, only when her assistance is needed, but it sounds like Maggie's either tossed hers or thinking about it.

"About three months. I was on the pill then, though, and it doesn't seem to change things as much as the implant." Like the fact that she still hasn't had a period, a month after its removal. It's a frustrating process.

"So, it might take a little while, no matter what."

"Yeah. You're young, so that'll help. Did you do another exam with Cricket?"

Maggie nods. "She gave me those vitamins and wished me luck. Said if it took a while, she'd give me a couple of ovulation kits, but I shouldn't rush it."

That's a little bit of a contrast to Caleb's approach, but the age difference of the potential parents probably motivated him to already issue Carol the kits.

"How long have you been trying?"

"Just a month. I know that's silly to get anxious already, but it's just now that we've decided, I'm impatient."

Carol laughs. She can understand that. "And baby Matthew doesn't help matters."

"Nope." Maggie smiles, looking at the little stripe-capped head poking out above the swaddled blankets. "I bet a baby with Glenn would end up looking like Honey, right?"

"Probably." Of Merle's biological kids, Honey's the only one whose features shows her Asian ancestry. "She's going to be an obsessive aunt, you know." She already is for Christian. For Asskicker, for future baby Rhee, she may be worse for the tiniest humans. She's got a fierce protective streak.

"I won't complain. I didn't have any aunts growing up, except Patricia. Daddy and Mama were both only children, and Annette's only brother never got married. Can you imagine the things Honey's going to teach her nephews and nieces?"

Yeah, that's something Carol can truly imagine. Carol just hopes she gets to direct it at a new sibling too. She wants to see all Merle's kids and Sophia react to that. The few minutes she had hands on Matthew are making her yearn in a way that aches.

~*~ MD ~*~

"You keep coming out here to brood and I'm gonna enclose it so there's heat," Merle jokes, handing Hershel a mug of kinderspunsch that Carol made up for the kids and the three abstainers in the family. Everyone ate supper at the community center, but with Patricia insisting on sleeping in her own bed tonight, everyone even loosely affiliated with the Dixons or the Greenes is at the main house except Daryl and Lori.

Hershel takes a drink of the hot beverage and looks surprised. "What did she come up with for this? Makes me think of mulled wine that Annette liked to make."

"Good. Maggie said it was close when she tried a mug. It's grape juice, orange juice, honey, cinnamon, some other spices I lost track of. Your girls said you don't care for eggnog."

"The only thing that ever made eggnog drinkable for me was a good dose of rum."

"I do agree with you there." Merle leans against the deck rail and studies the man who's become one of his closest friends in the months since they arrived at Homestead. "New baby. Brings a lot of hope back to the world, doesn't it?"

"Yes." Hershel smiles, warming his hands on the mug. "I forgot just how they feel in your arms. Light as a feather and seeming like a breath of air would whisk them away."

Merle nods. He hasn't held the newborn yet, figuring there's time enough to spoil the boy once the women of the families get done. He remembers how different it is, the weight of a new life versus a healthy baby like Christian.

"But I can't help but remember who will never hold him." Hershel sighs and takes another drink. "Otis would have been a wonderful father."

"Guess we'll just have to hope having a dozen or so uncles can make up the lack."

The veterinarian smiles a little. "You're not going to drop broad hints about how perfect it would be for me to step in?"

"I figure if you had that sort of inclination toward Patricia, we'd know it by now. Woman's your sister, just without the years of childhood pissing contests behind it."

That makes Hershel laugh. "The ladies of the family seem to think it the perfect solution to match the widow and widower."

"The ladies have yet to put together that you've been spending time with a certain redheaded farmer."

Merle just arches a brow at Hershel's surprised look. The older man looks a little flustered, but he supposes that the quarter-century age difference does make for an interesting dilemma. "I don't know where that's going," Hershel admits.

"What man does, this soon after a pretty woman sets eyes on him?"

"I suppose you're right."

Merle pushes off the rail. "Everyone's distracted and Maggie and Glenn are staying the night up in Jazz' old room. You should go take a walk. Spend some time with a lady. I'm pretty sure her girls are staying the night with Leo and Amalia tonight. Maybe even stay the night this time instead of slipping back in after midnight like a naughty teenage boy."

Hershel laughs now, although it comes after he chokes on his drink. "We haven't gotten to the point where I should be staying the night yet."

"Well, you've got distracted womenfolk, a lady with an empty apartment, and a night that lends to big changes. Maybe you should go see where the lady's leading you."

He thinks Hershel's going to decline, and it makes him sad. He's seen enough interaction between his long-time neighbor and the veterinarian to know that Lenore's gone on the man, and that's something she swore wasn't happening after her husband walked out on her when she was pregnant with her youngest seven years ago. Other than the age gap, she's a good match for the man in front of him.

But he's proven wrong when Hershel finishes off his drink and hands the mug back. "Well, if they do figure out I've gone missing, I suppose it's one way to start that conversation with my girls."

He wanders off down the deck to the stairs, leaving Merle to laugh in the cold air. Never doubt a man in pursuit of a redhead, he supposes.

~*~ DD ~*~

Lori startles just a little when he steps into the shower with her, but she's smiling as he reaches to steal away her washcloth. He reaches for that body wash she likes so much and washes her back for her before moving around to trace his fingers across the small marks that appeared in the past week on the lower side of her belly. Getting to take a quick peek at tiny Matthew makes him anticipate what's coming more.

She squirms away a little. Her previous pregnancy didn't leave any signs behind other than the c-section scar, but Asskicker's already making her mark on the world permanent. He gets Lori to turn to face him, the shower just big enough for it, and kisses her deeply, sliding one hand across the stretch marks.

"Better meaning than my scars," he says softly, hoping she'll take the comparison to her particular habit of kissing his scars.

It earns him a little smile. She's already washed her hair, so it back and wet makes her eyes so prominent. He's never had a thing for brown eyes before her. He kisses her again. "Help me get clean?"

The little smile widens as he steps back and passes her the washcloth back.

"Turn around."

He's smiling as he turns to face the back wall of the shower, letting her wash his shoulders and back. She can't reach much below the lower curve of his ass, but he's not really worried about that. This is about the thrill of her hands on him, because she always follows that terrycloth scrap with her free hand, letting him feel the smooth movement of her warm palms and the light scratch of her nails. By the time she urges him to turn and starts on his chest, he's reaching that hazy stage that comes for most people _after_ an orgasm.

She delights in the effect, using it to explore and coax under the water with that same pattern of warm touch and tingle of nails. The massage he knew worked for him. The nails, just the slow drag without actually scratching, that's something unique to them.

"Let me get your hair."

He ducks his head toward her, letting her pull the shower wand down to massage suds through his short hair. Then she's shutting the water off and he's glad that Christmas morning anticipation actually led to Abby and Carl wanting to stay with their cousins tonight. He supposes it's more fun to giggle past bedtime with company.

As soon as they are in their room, he reaches for her, but she steps away teasingly. "Not done yet."

edited scene

It takes him a minute to realize what she's says then, and the delay is long enough that she stiffens a little trying to roll away to hide her face.

"Hey, no, darlin', no, don't do that."

He does have to get her to roll so he can hover above her. "Look at me, Lori. Please."

She finally opens her eyes and he sees tears. He's not sure if she's more hurt or embarrassed, but he brushes his lips to hers. "Just didn't think I heard you right. Didn't think you were there yet."

_That_ registers with her and she starts to smile, that slow little mischievous grin he knows he fucking loves. He lets himself respond, grinning back.

"Love you too, woman. Think you would've known that by now."

"Yeah, I guess you do leave a lot of clues," she says softly. "I thought maybe it was something you just didn't like saying. Only heard you say it to Abby."

He supposes his reticence to voicing it aloud would make a woman nervous. It's not that he doesn't love his family. But they know it - and know him - so putting it into words isn't that important, or it's swathed in other things he says, like calling Scout _che'lu_. His ex-wife didn't care, which was probably one of those red flags he missed.

So, he leans in and murmurs it several times against her lips and cheeks and throat, each repetition followed by a kiss against her soft skin.

He'll just make a new habit for her, so she never has reason to doubt just how intensely he feels for her.


	47. New Families

**December 24, 2010**

~*~ RG ~*~

Rick hums softly as he trots up the stairs to his place, laughing when he realizes it's Frosty the Snowman. He made a courtesy visit to see the new baby and spend a little time with Carl. Apparently, Christmas Eve is going to be one very massive sleepover in the Dixon basement.

He paused at the stairs to Rosita's, remembering his conversation with Lori. But her lights were off, so he figured she's asleep or not home.

Opening his own door reveals at least part of the answer to whether or not she's living with him. She's not under the covers, but she is sound asleep on his bed in warm pajamas. The TV is flickering on the menu screen of one of the SVU discs. He wonders if she fell asleep before or after watching.

He sets about getting ready for bed, smiling a little when he notes that, yes, she does have a significant amount of toiletries in the tiny bathroom. He plunks his toothbrush in the holder next to hers. If he had any doubts, the box of tampons in the wire shelf under the sink eliminates those.

When she doesn't wake to him calling her name, he slips his arms under her and lifts. She does wake then, blinking sleepily and then putting her arms around his neck to kiss him.

"Long day?" he asks, knowing she went out with Daryl's team today so Christopher could stay home in case he was needed. He manages to get the blankets pulled back with her holding on and slides her back to the bed.

She yawns and nods. "That man ever says, 'hey, I need an extra hand on a hunt', I'm going to hide. I thought, maybe deer or rabbits. Not something out of a wildlife documentary."

He starts laughing, continuing even when she pretends to scowl. He did see the hunting teams return, with their loads of field dressed water buffalo. With the count delivered to Hershel reminding him their numbers were intended for the exotic meat market and not wintering without human help outside their native climate, the vet's authorized a hunt of young males.

"Sorry," he says at last and kisses her before slipping into bed with her. "You feeling okay?"

She curls into him, but her posture isn't relaxed. "Nothing more Midol won't cure," she mumbles and looks at the clock. "In two more hours."

"Alright. Hold on a minute."

He leaves her curled in bed and goes to fumble behind the towels for the hot water bottle and fills it. "Stomach or back?"

She eyes the hot water bottle and snags it to tuck against her lower belly. "Well, if I didn't believe you were married more than a decade, I do now. Why do you have a hot water bottle?"

He taps his ribs near the gun shot scar. "Ribs get achy sometimes where they put them back together. They offered me a heating pad, but the bottle works better. You finish the DVD or not get started?"

"Didn't get started."

He sets the DVD to play and maneuvers over her to take the spot by the wall and smiles when she moves back into his warmth.

"Had a conversation about you with Lori today."

She looks startled, so he explains. "She works in the laundry part of the week, and that little satin thing from earlier this week went in with mine."

"Oh God, that had to be awkward."

"Not as bad as I would have guessed. Just a little teasing, actually." He glances at the episode playing and reaches out to the remote to pause it.

"I asked her if living together already is too fast."

She's gone really still and isn't looking at him. "What did she say?"

"Well, first she pointed out her very pregnant belly. Then she suggested I talk to you before you decided I wasn't interested in anything long term."

Now he's got her full attention and those big, heavily lashed eyes on him. "And is that what you're interested in?"

"Yeah. I know it's fast, but coming home and finding you here just makes me even more sure." He kisses her, feeling her smile. "Like an early Christmas present."

"You'll forgive me if it's a few days before you unwrap it?"

"Sex was not the present part. Having someone to come home to was."

"Ah, hell. You are too damn sweet for your own good." Her smile fades though. "I haven't met your son yet."

"Carl will love you." Rick's sure of that. Kickass, capable Rosita will fall right into the teenager's cast of heroes. "I'm probably over halfway there myself."

It's an uneasy admission to make since they've never discussed her breakup with Abraham.

"You really do put yourself out there, officer."

"Too much, too soon?"

"Not at all." She draws him in for a lingering kiss. "Might take me a bit longer to get there. You good with that?"

"Yeah. I'm a very patient man."

She ends the intensity of the moment with a yawn that sets them both laughing.

"You rest. I'm watching some Benson."

But despite being tired, she lets him curl around her and makes sleepy commentary about the show. When she does drift off, he shuts the TV off and just enjoys the fact that she wants to stay.

~*~ Axel ~*~

Axel's closest to the door when the knock comes, so he looks out the window and then opens it to find the Dixon boy waiting patiently in the cold.

"Is Titus over here? Lights were out on his RV and I didn't want to wake him if he was sleeping."

"Yeah. Tiny! You got company." It's an unnecessary summons, considering the big guy can see the doorway from where he's sitting on the couch in Oscar's RV. Even after several days here and the arrival of Oscar's family, they still tend to cluster in Oscar's RV right at bedtime.

Jazz just smiles. "You don't have to get up." He gives a command in that soft language Axel's heard several of the Dixons use and one of the big spotted hunting hounds steps into the light circle from the doorway. "I have a Christmas present for you."

The way Tiny's face lights up makes even Axel's jaded ass want to smile, especially when he snaps his fingers and the dog pops through the door and manages to get into his lap.

"You're giving me Romeo?" he says softly, scratching the dog's ears.

"My sister said you could have any of the remaining six, and you always seem to like him best. I know you've missed your dogs from before."

"Thank you." Tiny's voice is near inaudible from emotion, but his smile looks like it'll break his face as he cuddles about seventy pounds of half-grown dog as if he were a pup.

"Merry Christmas, Titus. See you for morning milking?"

Tiny nods, but then Jazz glances to Oscar's two boys, who are playing cards at the table. "We've got a fairly big party going, kids and teenagers, if y'all wanted to come."

The older boy, Anthony, looks wary of the invitation, but the younger, Zaire, wants to go, Axel can tell. When Oscar gives permission, Anthony looks disgruntled, but follows as his brother heads out with barely a goodbye. He isn't going to leave the thirteen-year-old out of his sight in what's still a strange place to him after two days.

Axel watches until the three boys make the turn out of sight around the main house where he knows the basement access is before shutting the door.

"Don't think I'm ever going to get quite used to this place," he says, taking a seat at the table.

Oscar's watching Tiny with the dog and actually smiling for once. "They helped me get my family to a safer place. No need for me to get used to anything after that."

Yeah, Axel thinks his two friends are Homestead to the core now, between the rescue of Oscar's still large family and the generous way everyone they've encountered has treated Tiny. Granted, they're used to giant men, considering Jasper Dixon seems to be trying to gain on Tiny in height and several other men aren't exactly in Axel's size range. But it's not just that they aren't afraid of Tiny's size. They're actually drawing him in and keeping him advancing. Obviously, someone also paid attention to the fact that Tiny's been longing for another dog, since his graduated from the training program at the prison about a week before everything went crazy.

Not that he can complain about his own treatment. Good food, good clothes, and a generous ability to choose what he does. There's still just enough structure to the community that he doesn't feel adrift after so many years inside, not like he did the other time he served and got paroled. It'd be better if so many of the more interesting women weren't obviously unobtainable, but he really can't complain.

And Oscar and Tiny were right about the man on one of the lead teams having his own prison history. Carlos just shrugged and said he spent more time in than out before the world ended, but no one here gives two shits about crimes that aren't violence against people who can't defend themselves. He's the one who told them Merle served for beating the holy shit out of a woman beater in a bar parking lot and warned Axel that what happened with Andrew isn't the first time they've put down predators when they weren't actively fighting back.

"You gonna start on building a cabin?" Axel asks. The credits system makes plenty of sense, although he doesn't see needing to do the kind of trade or spending to build a place. Once things are more settled with the attacked group, he'll be perfectly happy with one of those little tin can apartments up in the Village. But Oscar's got teenagers here.

"Not for me. I'll take an apartment when the time comes, maybe. But gonna combine my credits with Nichelle's to build for her and the boys. Might not be married anymore, but she's done most of their raising before now. You gonna help?"

"Course I will." He's hitched his wagon to these two men since the day Oscar crossed the racial lines and got the Mexicans off his back in exchange for making sure Tiny got enough extra at meal times not to be half-starved all the time. Easiest damn prison transaction he ever did, especially when Oscar traded a favor that somehow got him switched from Cell Block D to C with them, to make it easier for him to slip food back after his supper shift. His new cellmate was a pissant little drug dealer, but the kid left Axel alone, and he spent enough years in to know that's sometimes the best result. The alliance cost him any standing at all with the other white men in the prison, but since the assholes never did a damn thing to help him before, he didn't figure he owed them much just because they shared a skin color.

"RVs are pretty solid for all their apologies about them. Probably more room than the apartments too, from what I've heard. Be good enough til we get the credit saved."

Oscar's extended family here makes his one of the more populous other than the Dixons themselves. When they stumbled onto that little farm Oscar remembered his brother wanting to save up for, they expected to be disappointed. Instead, they found Oscar's two teenage sons, his ex-wife, his niece, his brother and the man's girlfriend, plus the girlfriend's brother, sister-in-law, and nephew. Carol just shrugged at seeing the size of the new arrivals' group and had three more RVs moved down by theirs, giving them their own little village of sorts for now.

"Want to get it done before the spring though. Wouldn't want to be anywhere near this tin can in a bad thunderstorm, even with the tie downs we got out." Axel's seen full-size trailers tossed and rolled without even a full-on tornado, when the storm was big enough, and if a damned hurricane ever comes up the coast, that'll happen for sure. These RVs would be like that scene out of _Twister_ \- whoosh, gone. There's shelters on the property, but none of them are down here. Right now, they'd have to make a run for the Dixon basement.

"The big Marine offered me a time trade if I'll help on his place. He wants it done before Valentine's."

"Jamie? Huh. Guess he's gonna pop the question to that pretty little blonde from the building crew."

Oscar shrugs. "They're already living together, so I think it might be more than just getting married. You saw the baby boom they already got here."

"Means they think it's safe." Although Axel's pretty sure the nurse who did their bloodwork probably gave all of them the same drastic caution that they keep their pants zipped until all their lab work is clear, he also told them birth control is widely available to the women even as he tossed Axel a drawstring bag with vitamins and minor over-the-counter meds - and two boxes of condoms.

He wishes he had the man's optimism about his sex life, although a lot of the folks who aren't married seem to pair off loosely without any ties, as far as he can observe so far. Both of his very pretty female coworkers at the garage are taken, although he's not sure the ex-cop the Latina's hooking up with knows he's off the market yet. Denova's military and so's her boyfriend.

He's worked two kitchen shifts so far, one breakfast and one lunch. It didn't take long for the ladies there to catch him up on both Grady and Terminus, and he passed that information on to the other two men. No fucking wonder they put Andrew down so fast. He's just gonna stay politely in his own damned bed until someone needs an itch scratched and has pity on him for an invite.

In the meantime, it seems neither Oscar nor Tiny are roaming for female company either, so he's got buddies as good as family to pass the time with and a safe place to lay his head. It was all he needed before the dead walked. It's all he really needs now too.

~*~ HG ~*~

Hershel's glad he took Merle's advice when Lenore smiles as soon as she sees him at the door. She's got an early morning, he knows, because she and her dad will fire up the big barbeque grills as soon as daylight edges around. But she welcomes him in and goes to put the kettle on.

"Didn't think I would see you tonight, with the holiday and baby and all."

"Merle said your girls were down at Leo and Amalia's. Thought they'd be here."

Lenore shrugs. "Leo and Amalia and their kids have spent Christmas with us for so many years now, they're family. And it's Sebastian's first Christmas without his parents and brothers. So, all three of mine wanted to do a big slumber party, although I think Jenny's in the middle of it too. They offered me the pull-out couch down there, but I figured as early as my morning is starting, I want a good bed for the night. Dad and I will head down there for presents after the grills are going."

"Much the same on my end. Maggie's absorbed in the baby enough she probably doesn't remember my name tonight. And Beth's in the middle of that big party the younger Dixons seem to have spun up."

"That explains me seeing Gage wandering down that way about an hour ago."

The tea kettle whistles and she sets about making tea for them both with quiet efficiency. They've been having small moments like this since Halloween, although Merle's the first person to say anything about it. He suspects most people see his age and don't think it anything more than two farmers trading work tips. He's just glad he was more aware of where things were going with Lenore than he was with either wife before the woman kissed him senseless.

She hands him a mug and sits on the couch facing him, one leg tucked under her as she smiles at him. "We've still got that BBC series to finish, if you want. Get in a few episodes before you head back up."

"We could. But a friend advised me tonight that I should see where this is leading."

Lenore laughs and leans over to set her mug on the little kitchen table before kidnapping his. "Is that a conversation we can have better without those in the way?"

They've kissed before, starting just after Thanksgiving, a month into this little courtship of theirs. She hasn't pushed, respecting he's just not there yet. And he knows Annette would never begrudge him any happiness with her gone.

Those kisses were more 'I like you and want to show it' compared to this one, which is "I like you and I want you to stay the night." There's no space between them, and a tiny part of him is amused at making out on the couch like teenagers at his age. But she's young and vibrant, with what his mother would call a 'working woman's beauty'. She could have chosen another man, ones better matched to her in age, but she claims they're fickle.

She's smiling after and leans her forehead against his. "I'm not aiming for ever getting married again. I did that early on and I've had my kids. But I'm happy when I'm with you. We're probably too old for the boyfriend/girlfriend dynamic, but that's close enough to what I'm wanting. And should we ever get this place secure enough I can live in my own home again, I would very much enjoy it if you were willing to live there too. You willing to live in sin with a woman half your age?"

He threads his fingers into her red curls and mulls it over. He knows his life of the past two decades has been one that's led to him being seen as a counselor and guide, a man of religion here. And that religion is a big part of who he is now. It separates his good years from the ones he doesn't like to speak of. There are reasons he married so much later in life. No woman worth having would have stuck around in his twenties or most of his thirties.

He'd never return to the lifestyle his mama called his 'drinking and whoring' days, but living with Lenore, in this world? There's not much difference in signing their names in the leather-bound community record book that they're married and just being a couple and living their day to day together. If the label bothers her that much, of being a wife, he's fine with that.

"I think the idea of living in sin no longer applies in our world." He misses the quiet breathing of a woman next to him at night, evenings spent with a cup of tea and a good book or old TV show, and holding hands at breakfast as he plans his day. Sex is a bonus, as he's not so old yet not to miss it, but it's the daily life where he feels his widower status the most. She's not Annette, no more than Annette was Jo, but a new gift put into his path for continuing to do good in the world instead of ill. "I might find it interesting to be a boyfriend at my age."

He's the one to start the kiss this time, but she's the one who leads away from the couch and a night in her arms that promises he's no longer alone.

~*~ Al ~*~

From where he's tucked in his bunk, Al can see a good portion of the open area of the basement. Most of the kids here tonight are out there, eating snacks and watching a movie. A few are sitting on the unused bunks closest to the TV area, paired off to play games. It's quiet back here, most content to leave the quiet kid alone. He's got a book and his reading light and really doesn't have to have any company.

In some ways, it feels like other Christmas Eves spent in group homes. Big noisy crowds of kids are big noisy crowds of kids, after all. But at the same time, he knows there's not going to be another day of him putting all his things in a black garbage bag to move to a different group home or another foster placement that's going to return him just like all the others have since he entered the system when he was five and his mama overdosed on meth. He doesn't even remember what she looked like anymore, and the system didn't really give a shit about a foster kid keeping up with family keepsakes like photos.

Patricia's got a new baby, a boy from her dead husband. Any other place, he would know the writing's on the wall when they decide they don't need an angry kid with a learning disability around anymore. But she's different. Everyone else still calls them her fosterlings, but Patricia calls them her ducklings, and when Isabelle started calling her mom, she just hugged the girl so tight Al's not sure she could breathe.

He fiddles with the Polaroid tucked in the front of his book, taking it out to look at it. Patricia, looking more tired than he's ever seen her, but smiling happily with all of them surrounding her and the baby. Jimmy and Beth say she raised a lot of kids up as they aged out of the system. None of hers were ever left to fend for themselves just because they turned eighteen and the state didn't give a damn anymore. But that was when she was married and if anything happens to Patricia, who would take care of them? He's not stupid. Women die having babies, and they were lucky today.

"Hey." Patrick plops down at the foot of his bed and hands him a bottle of apple juice. "Not into the Lord of the Rings tonight? Thought you liked the fantasy stuff."

Considering the book he has is the entire Narnia series in one binding, he guesses that's true. "Just thinking."

"You still worrying about Patricia? She's okay now. Matthew too."

"Just wondered what would happen to us if she wasn't here," he admits. Maybe it's because he was moved once, on Christmas Eve, from one of the few placements he liked. The state wouldn't let foster kids stay with a woman having to start cancer treatments on a Stage IV diagnosis.

"I'm pretty sure we wouldn't go anywhere. You really think Carol wouldn't just step right in?" Patrick pushes his glasses back to sit better on his face. "If you really think about it, she's already in charge of us when Patricia's busy."

Al thinks about the times Carol's guided and fed and made sure they had even the fun things they were interested in, not just the necessities. He suspects Jazz tattles, if they don't ask for what they want in addition to what they need. He wonders if Patrick doesn't worry because he's technically old enough they would let him live on his own in the Village if he asked. Then again, Patrick's seventeenth birthday just after Thanksgiving was celebrated the same way every Dixon birthday has been.

"I mean, I think they'd let us choose, like those Terminus kids. And you and Carl go out with Daryl's team to hunt and stuff regularly. Bet you'd have a place there too, if you wanted." Patrick looks thoughtful. "Jimmy's in such a hurry to be an adult. Me? I'm just glad they don't have some limit that says I gotta move out to the Village."

"He says he's gonna ask, after his birthday." Al guesses it only matters to have fewer roommates and less oversight, since it's not like Jimmy will have to feed himself, although he'll roll to the adult work rosters at eighteen.

Patrick snorts. "He just wants to be able to have girls over. Doesn't see Ashley moving on as a fluke because she got bored."

"She got bored because he doesn't keep his mouth shut." The worry over Patricia soothed by the reminders that this isn't the old world, where he can be taken away from Patricia and sent somewhere new, he studies where Jimmy's trying - and failing - to flirt with Beth. It's a bit stupid, because everyone knows Beth's dating Gage, and it's even stupider that it still feels like middle school drama sometimes here. "You know Leeann likes you, right?"

Patrick's as clueless about girls liking him as Jazz is, although over time, Al's begun to suspect that Jazz is actually aware of the crushes and just ignores them. Leeann's pretty, he supposes, but after Grady, Al still finds the concept of touching others - especially like that - upsetting. It took him a while to be comfortable with the gentle hugs he gets from Patricia and Carol and Beth. The high energy of Sophia still startles the hell out of him, but luckily, she's nice enough she only hugged him the once.

He still gets sick to his stomach remembering Melina reminding the worst of the bad cops that she was a teenager to divert attention off one of the younger teenage girls. She looked after him in Grady, barely an adult herself, an aged out foster kid herself who waited tables to get by with no college in her future. Voluntarily screwing the cops kept them safe and fed, but Melina cried herself to sleep most nights and didn't want to be touched. She's getting better the longer they're at Homestead. Al checks in with her each Sunday, when he works the supper shift with her.

The older boy sighs. "She's pretty and nice, but..."

But Patrick's like him, except the men who caught his group liked boys too. Al doesn't know how Patrick doesn't have more nightmares than he does. Maybe because he got to see the men die like Al did. Patrick's better about being touched. He likes hugs - from the women at least - and he spends a lot of time with Merle learning things, the same way Al likes to go with the hunters when he's allowed.

The older boy looks his way and sees his expression. "It's not really the Claimers, Al. I didn't like girls way before that."

He looks wary, like he expects Al to be upset. But Al really doesn't care. He supposes it would complicate things a lot for Patrick, all things considered.

"Maybe I'll tell her that for you, so she won't embarrass you," he offers. "If you don't mind her knowing."

"Thanks." Patrick smiles and fiddles with his glasses again. "I like having a brother," he says softly, and Al knows that's talking about him, not the goofy blond they share Patricia with.

So, he smiles back and nudges the other boy with a socked foot. "Me too."

This Christmas Eve is a good one.

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane finishes brushing his teeth and goes looking for Scout when she's not in their bedroom. The newly expanded cabin takes a little getting used to, but he's slowly coming to like it as much as their tiny space before. Cooking again is nice, although he's being careful with the Dixon family warning that Scout can burn water. She's a good prep cook, so they can still do meals together if all she's allowed is a knife.

He finds her sitting in the second bedroom, cross-legged on the neatly made bottom bunk of the built-in beds. There's still room in here for a crib, if they opted for one, but he figures by the time the baby needs independent space, they'll just have one of those side rails anyway. He remembers a lot of tales of his escapes from confinement as a child. He ended up in a toddler bed by ten months because his mother thought he might crack his head open by climbing the crib sides and bailing over. Maybe their daughter will be a more sedate child, like Lori was.

They're a year ahead really, in preparing for the baby, and he knows what's eating at her tonight.

"Tyreese and Karen took the boys home with them tonight, didn't they?" he asks, going to perch next to her.

She nods. "All the girls wanted to spend Christmas together. They know they're going to be split up."

Shane thinks that Jacqui would manage the three, if she had to. But it's a lot to put on Jim, who's healing from the loss of his first family. Brandy and Jocelyn are newly orphaned and sisters, both fairly docile kids even before losing their parents in the Terminus attack. They've taken to Jim well. But he's not ready to handle a child as pissed off at the world as Anaya is.

He's still not certain he and Scout should be considered for the girl's parents. All the other couples who visited with the kids to get to know them, to see what the kids themselves preferred, each have one half who doesn't have a job regularly off property. Leo's family is on offer, and she'd have siblings and two parents who rarely leave Homestead, and who also know how to deal with a traumatized orphan after Leo's nephew. Caleb, the young doctor, and his girlfriend, Chloe, they've offered as well. He's pretty sure Carol and Merle are considering it too.

She's a foundling, to use the world Terminus did. Living on her own for they're not sure how long before she braved talking to a Terminus supply team. It could have been hours, or days, or weeks, although how a child would survive on her own, he doesn't want to think about, not after Christopher's niece and those weeks spent hiding in an attic from her own dead family. He doesn't think there's a kid on the property without PTSD in some form or another, but no one even knows just how deep Anaya's runs. Even her age is only on her own word.

But she's nine years old and he knows who Scout sees when she looks at the girl.

He reaches out to take her hands in his. "Carol asked us for a reason," he says. "Do you want to ask Anaya to live with us?"

"Yes, but..."

He interrupts her with a kiss.

"If your but is logistics, those we can figure out. You know Lori and Carol and half the damn women on this place will look after her for us when she's not in school. Imagine Glynnis with another girl to spoil."

"Or Daddy."

"Or your sisters and Jazz and Jamie and Glenn and Rick and Daryl and you see where I'm going with this?"

"We've got a really damn big support system."

"Yeah, we do. It scares me, that we're both at risk and she might trust us and lose one or both of us. And while I hope like hell that never happens, I spent too many years with the reality of being a cop to brush off what we do now as any less dangerous. You got _shot_ at Terminus." He can say that without being terrified, finally. "But at least here, there's no way she'll ever be alone."

"And the baby?"

"For everything Anaya is angry about in her world, did you see her with Andre?" Prone to bouts of angry profanity at times among older children or adults, the girl acts like the much smaller kids are made of spun glass. He watched her spend a good fifteen minutes teaching Andre to play that cherry counting game. He suspects she lost a younger sibling.

"She's good with him."

"And I think she'll be good with the baby too."

She studies him for a moment, before looking around the cozy little room. Built-in bunks on one side, built-in shelves and drawers on the other. Everything painted in shades of blue because it's both their favorite colors. A window with half the panes colorful glass after Scout used a stained glass kit on them.

"She told me we make her feel safe," Scout says softly.

"That's our answer then." He pulls her into his arms, curling into the space in the bunk and holding her close. He kisses her on the temple. "At least she's potty-trained, right?" he teases.

Scout just laughs and tucks herself close to him.

He thought they had a while longer before they were parents, but it's come early for a reason.

They make that little girl feel safe.


	48. Christmas, Part 1

**December 25, 2010**

~*~ CP~*~

Carol is definitely glad she resisted any of the bride and groom separate on the night before the wedding traditions. Waking up to kisses is worth ignoring the superstitions. Morning sex isn't the norm for them with so many duties tugging at them both.

But no one is going to expect them anywhere this morning and now he's smiling slyly at her.

"Not worried about seeing the bride before the wedding?" she teases as she pulls the nightgown over her head.

"Always heard it was the bride in her dress, and you, darlin', are wearing no dress."

"How very true."

edited scene

"Love you," he says softly.

She cups his. "I love you, too."

She thinks this is a much better wedding day tradition than hiding from each other all day.

~*~ GR ~*~

Glenn wakes to hear soft singing. Maggie's pacing the room with baby Matthew, singing some soft pop song he can't remember the name of. "Patricia sleeping?"

She nods. "He's fed, but not settling just yet. I told her to get some sleep."

"Want some help?"

She shakes her head, smiling, so he relaxes in the bed to watch her with the baby in her arms. He never thought he would want to be a father so young, but watching his fiancée with a newborn, he understands why women talk about yearning for babies.

She even verified it might take a few months, but he can't wait to see her body grow and change. The impulse makes him understand his best friend's need to have a baby a little more. Cricket adores her adopted son, but she admits he hasn't cured her wish to go through a pregnancy either.

He counts himself lucky that there are no barriers other than time and a lot of enjoyable encounters between him and fatherhood.

~*~ JD ~*~

Jazz wakes to the vibration alarm on his wrist watch and stretches, careful not to drop his arm over the side of the bunk like he normally might. Last night's party turned into a giant coed slumber party, so the basement is crowded with sleepers. Sophia and Abby are curled up in a sleeping bag, nose to nose, next to his bunk. He offered them the bunk, but Abby insisted on their spot.

So close together, they look far more like sisters than adopted cousins, with their near identical coloring. He eases his camera out of the recessed shelf in the bunk and takes their picture. His mother and uncle will both love a copy of that image. For good measure, he gets a shot of Patrick and Al in their separate bunks across from him for Patricia.

He puts the camera away and snags the bundle of clothes he left at the foot of his bed in preparation of the girls blocking his access to his under-bunk storage. But he can't resist reaching down to run his fingers through Sophia's silky soft hair. Weird as it is sometimes to share their parents _and_ be a couple, he's still glad Abby's becoming her cousin officially today and not her sister.

He dresses in the bathroom, layering in warm runner thermals under his cargo pants and henley. Toasty as the basement is, it's thirty degrees outside. Picking his way through various sleeping kids and teenagers, he smiles to see their chaperones sound asleep on one of the couches. Amy's hair spills like spun gold across Jamie's arm, making his dark skin seem shades darker. He wishes his camera wasn't back in his bunk.

Keying the gun safe open inevitably wakes Jamie, but once he sees Jazz, he just smiled and gives him a sleepy good morning. He returns the greeting as he slides his holster on his belt, along with his knife, an extra magazine of ammo for his Glock, and the ammo pouch for his rifle like Shane insists on him carrying on his animal care rounds.

After Terminus, his brother-in-law worried about how far from others he frequently is, even with the pairs rule and the good radios. He's spent a lot of his down time drilling Jazz since. He thinks he could probably pass all the physical parts of the old police training now, and Shane wants to continue to work with him on ambidextrous firing on rifles so he's not fumbling if he ever has to pick up someone else's right-handed weapon.

He tugs his coat on and slides the strap of the Ruger M77 rifle across his chest. He hates the noisier report of the rifle versus his air rifle or bow, but the noise is the point. The Ruger fired from even the river edge of the property can be heard to summon help as fast as using the radio.

With his balaclava and hat in place, he tugs on his fingerless work gloves and closes the gun safe. It's as cold outside as he expected, but Titus is waiting just beyond the outside door with Romeo at his feet.

The sight of the contentment on the big man's face makes him glad they have pups to spare, especially when he greets Wilma and Betty with sweet enthusiasm when the two heelers bound up.

"Already milked the little cows," he tells Jazz.

"You're gonna get fat on all Beth's thank you cookies."

Titus laughs. "It's too cold for little girls to have to be out doing the milking."

Jazz suppresses the amusement that Titus sees Beth, two years older than him, as a kid, but never seems to see the same with him.

Titus slides in the backseat of the Polaris because both of them in the front is a clash of shoulders. The dogs all hitchhike today by piling into the empty seats.

"You excited about the wedding today?"

He grins. "Yeah. They're together either way, but it's nice they're doing the wedding too." Nobody would ever try to take him from Carol if something happened to his dad and they weren't married, not like the old world, but it's still nice to be official in the eyes of the community.

"Is it rude to ask what happened to your first mother?"

Jazz likes that he didn't say real mother, like some do. "Dunno. I've never met her. Carol's the only mother I've ever had. My sisters probably know where she was."

"Can't imagine that. Guess it's the same as me and my father. Man disappeared when my mama was still carrying me. Best thing that happened to her, she says, because then she met my Moms and they been together long as I can remember."

He thinks about asking the man if he thinks they made it, but then decides it's a stupid question. If Titus thought his mothers were alive, he would have gone after them. Everything he says about them, the little tidbits shared, indicate they had a great relationship, as Titus puts it "despite his missteps".

"Was worth waiting a long time, for Carol as a mom," he says instead.

"Yeah, mama like her is worth waiting for."

Jazz just smiles.

~*~ SW ~*~

Being kissed awake is definitely a Christmas present all by itself, Shane thinks. "Good morning," he drawls.

Scout places a final kiss on the bridge of his nose before ducking back down to use his chest as a pillow. "We gotta get going soon if we're doing that breakfast shift."

The entire regular kitchen staff officially has the day off for Christmas. While the lunch/supper combo meal set for two p.m. is being catered by various cooks much like Thanksgiving, no one wants Christmas to be cereal bars and fruit cups. So, Scout drew straws on all the team leaders without children who could actually cook to be the breakfast crew, then volunteered herself after his name got drawn for cooking.

"Mmm. Glynnis left you all those Swedish Tea Ring things to stick in the oven so you can 'cook', didn't she?" His own task is biscuits and gravy. Not everyone will show up there for breakfast, but they've got enough non-cooks and those without actual kitchens that he figures at least half the community will pop down.

She laughs. "Of course. And I'm capable of fruit parfaits."

"A'right." But he doesn't move just yet, drawing her up for a slow and leisurely make-out session that isn't meant to go anywhere but allowing him to enjoy her warm and enthusiastic love of being close to him.

"Love you," he murmurs softly.

She smiles down at him. "Love you too."

~*~ SP ~*~

Sophia dresses in her 'stealth outfit' for the day. None of the Dixons and extended Dixons are going to be officially dressed for the day until later, when her mother and father are firmly away from spoiling the surprise. So, she's kitted out in leggings and an obnoxious Christmas sweater of Honey's, giggling a little at the actual jingle bells tinkling as she moves. She bets this thing drove people crazy if Honey wore it to school.

Honey's in the kitchen with Jazz, yawning over a cup of coffee. She stayed the night in the basement too, somehow ending up using Beth as a pillow of sorts in a sleeping bag pile down near one of the couches.

"Where's Abby and Carl?" she asks.

Jazz is already at work at the stove and he shrugs. "She forgot something she just had to have from their house. Think it might've been a present for Lori. So, he walked her down there to find it."

Alright. Well, they're doing breakfast for their parents before going down to eat at the community center, and they don't really _have_ to have the other two's help. She's happy that Jazz thought her plan is a good one, especially after she told him Mama's never really gotten breakfast in bed. "What do you want me to do?"

He scans the stove-top and counter, before pointing to the can of blueberry pie filling. "Open that up. You remember how to make the little pocket pies, right? Dough's in the covered bowl."

Glad that he's trusting her with one of his favorite things to make, she sets to rolling out the dough and carefully spooning blobs of thick blueberry filling. It's kind of fun, and she sees why he likes to bake, in a way. By the time she's finished with more pies than their parents will eat and set them by the stove-top for him to fry, Honey's participating a little more, mainly by stealing one of Jazz's burners to make hot chocolate.

"I wonder if we'll still have any way to make that for Mama by next Christmas," Sophia asks.

The other two stare at the little pot of milk and cocoa powder a little mournfully. Everyone knows it's going to be one of the first things to run out and never be able to be replaced. Honey picks up the tin to check the best by date. "Well, depending on the supply we have, next year, yeah. Maybe one more."

Jazz stirs the potatoes he's pan roasting, but he's lost in thought until Sophia nudges him. "Lindens. I read somewhere that linden seeds are kind of like carob."

"Well, the flowers make good tea and the leaves and bark good eating, so I don't know why we never tried the seeds. Plans for the spring," Honey says as she pours the hot drinks into mugs.

Jazz tips Sophia's pocket pies into the oil he has heated up and watches it for a minute. "Think Patricia would like breakfast in bed too?"

Sophia giggles. "I doubt she'll complain." So, she goes to set up a third tray to the ones already out as Beth comes sleepily into the kitchen. "And here's her food delivery service."

They all laugh at poor Beth's confusion.

~*~ MD ~*~

"I think we got visitors," Merle mutters into the pillow. They both fell back asleep after the earlier 'exercise' of the morning, and while he should probably get up and before impatient mostly grown (or grown, there's no telling with his family) offspring invade, he's enjoying being curled up bare skin to Carol too much at the moment.

"You really want to be bare ass naked if they get bored with knocking on Christmas morning?" Carol teases.

And dammit, she's sliding away, so he decides to take her sage advice and find some damn pants before he ends up wearing nothing but a bedsheet with company.

"Just a minute," Carol calls out.

There's a round of giggling in the hall, which tells him they've got at least two of the younger girls out there. He forages on the floor for his pajama pants and sits up enough to get them on and Carol tosses him an undershirt.

But when Carol goes to open the door, now demurely clad in her nightgown again, the knob won't turn. There's more giggling.

"You gotta stay in bed, Mama!" Sophia calls out.

Carol looks puzzled, but then sniffs and grins. "Breakfast," she mouths at him as she hurries back to the bed. As soon as she has them properly tucked back in and propped on the pillows, he tells the kids to open the door.

It's not quite all the kids, but there's enough of them for a small crowd. Honey and Sophia have the food trays and walk them carefully to the bed. Jazz, Cricket, and Christian are behind them. Cricket may have come late to the idea, because unlike the younger three, she's not dressed in one of the garish Christmas sweaters Honey collects or at least attempting Christmas colors like Jazz is with a green vest on over his red henley. The baby's wearing reindeer pajamas and antlers.

"Christmas wedding breakfast for two," Sophia announces proudly.

He glances at the spread, which is probably more than he and Carol could hope to eat, but Carol's looking teary-eyed as she smiles and holds her arms out to usher the kids one at a time for a hug and kiss. Even Cricket accepts enthusiastically, although she actually ends up holding Carol close long enough for the baby to squawk and protest.

"This is beautiful," she says. "Thank you."

The hug and kiss routine repeats on his side of the bed and Christian begs (and receives) a chunk of potato off Merle's plate. Kid knows exactly who the softie is around here, he thinks.

"Now y'all enjoy while I herd these three off down to eat breakfast. Rumor has it they let Scout in the kitchen down there. Building's not on fire, so I'm thinking Shane's doing the actual cooking," Cricket says. "We'll do family presents after breakfast." The three don't seem to need much herding, as they call out goodbyes as they trot off to find their coats. He supposes with the different aspects of gifts this year and all of the kids well into teens or above, waiting on gifts isn't a hard thing. They wanted to do them when everyone could be there, and he didn't expect to end up with most of the kids overnight until after they made the plans.

Cricket lingers a minute though, bouncing Christian a little as the imp begs another potato from Merle.

"Hey Carol?" When Carol's attention shifts from her tray to the lingering young woman, Cricket smiles that slow smile that reminds Merle of his own mama. "It's good to have a mom again. Just you wait for Mother's Day this year." And as mischievous as she can be sometimes, she scampers out of the room and leaves him to deal with his weepy, happy bride-to-be.

~*~ GR ~*~

"Something smells really good over here." Glenn pops through the bathroom into Patricia's room, where Maggie's rocking the newly nursed baby and Beth's settling a tray for Patricia. "You make her breakfast in bed, Beth?"

The blonde shakes her head. "I wish I had the idea, but Jazz and the girls made extra with their wedding breakfast for their parents."

Patricia looks at the potato, sausage, and egg scramble alongside the two pocket pies and grins. "I will not complain about getting the extras from that."

Beth looks a little hesitant, as if something's on her mind. "Do any of you know if there was something with the animals last night?"

"Not that we heard, anyway," Maggie replies. "Why?"

"Well, Daddy's bed hasn't been slept in. The door was open when I went up to change for the day and everything's made with his laundry still sitting in the basket."

Maggie giggles. "I can't believe Daddy stayed out all night somewhere. Who do you think it is, Patricia?"

The older woman uses a bite of food to delay answering, and Glenn wonders if she does have a good idea and isn't going to share. He's right. "How about we let your daddy share that information when he's ready. If he decided to stay overnight, I'm guessing he'll be sharing that soon enough."

Beth looks sad. "I kept hoping maybe he'd marry _you_," she tells Patricia.

That earns her a gentle kiss on the forehead. "Now, Bethy, I love your father more than almost any person on this earth, but never romantically. Maybe there will be someone for me one day and maybe those twenty-one years I had with Otis will be all I end up needing. But I'll tell you this much. You'll be happy for him when you know."

Glenn is really damned curious now, because there are a lot of single women around, but not a lot in Hershel's age range. Glynnis is too old, surely, although he supposes she wouldn't be the first woman here to enjoy romancing a younger man if it's her. Katherine and Natha from Grady are both in their fifties, and while he really hopes it's not Alaina, he guesses if she's old enough to be Christopher and Bryce's mother, that makes her in the right age range too.

Patricia glances at Maggie and laughs. "Girl, give that baby to Glenn and go get some clothes on before you end up going for your breakfast in your jammies."

"Freeze some important parts that way," Beth teases.

Considering Maggie slept in a pair of boxers and one of Glenn's T-shirts, they're right on that possibility. He takes the baby with all the care someone so fragile and new needs and works himself into a seat in Maggie's now abandoned rocking chair while Maggie bickers with her sister all the way back into the other bedroom.

"It's a good look on you, Glenn."

He startles a little, seeing Patricia smiling gently at him. "What is?"

"Holding a baby."

He blushes, looking back to the tiny, doll-like features of Matthew. He's such a pale little fellow, compared to what Glenn remembers of his youngest sister as a newborn, nearly bald except for the barest of blonde fuzz and no eyebrows to speak of really.

"You're going to be a good dad, you know."

He does smile at her then. "I sure hope so."

But for now, this is the little Christmas present he's glad he gets to share in.

~*~ LG ~*~

"Door just opened and a pair of baby elephants is tromping in," Daryl grumbles.

Lori rolls her eyes, although she can't really argue that the two kids are making enough noise out in the living room for a half dozen kids. They seem to find whatever it is, signaled by Abby's war cry of triumph about it.

There's a hurried conversation that isn't quite audible, but then the kids come down the hall and there's tapping at the door.

Daryl gives her a hand when she can't quite lever up onto pillows as she tells them to come in.

Both kids are pink-cheeked from their trip down from the main house, grinning ear to ear. Whatever the discussion was, Lori's guessing it involves the clumsily wrapped present in Abby's hands that she hands over while bouncing enough that Carl ends up putting his hands on her shoulders to calm her down a little. They're both still in their winter wear, but it's obvious they're waiting on her to unwrap the present.

"We have other things for later," Carl says. "But Abby didn't want to wait on this one, so you could wear it today."

Lori opens the package carefully, feeling it shift as she does so. There's cloth revealed, a pretty length of silk fabric just right for a hair scarf. Lori sort of knew this one was coming, since she works with the inventory enough that the teachers asking for supplies for the project was something that went through her. But she expected one of those tie-dye projects like Carl did at summer camp. This is a beautiful painted scarf, all in pinks and purples and blues.

"This is really pretty, Abby. You made this in class?"

She grins. "Yeah. That's why none of the moms could come inside the school house."

As she lifts the scarf, she sees why it felt heavy when the necklace and earrings slide free of its folds. She picks them up, admiring the handmade items.

"Abby did the pendant and I did the earrings," her son says, shy for the first time she's seen in a long time.

The earrings look like miniature acorns, clear resin with sprigs of cedar inside. The caps look to be actual acorn caps, carefully preserved. The necklace is meant more as a Christmas piece, because the triangular pendant has its own tiny sprig of cedar, but with little metallic snips of glitter meant to be ornaments.

"They're perfect." She's got her arms full of happy kids at this point and she kisses both their heads. "I thought it was supposed to be kids unwrapping presents first on Christmas," she teases.

"That's _after_ breakfast, Mama. But yours was too pretty to wait," Abby says. Lori looks to Carl, whose traditions were before breakfast presents, but he's grinning happily. "We're going to meet Sophia and Jazz at breakfast."

They each get another kiss and hug and Daryl's included in this round by the kids.

As soon as they've made their noisy way back outside, she gets him to help her put on the necklace and trade out her earrings. "How on earth did you manage acorns?"

He laughs softly. "Silicone mold. We may have added a couple of those little art shops to a trip or two when we had extra time. Had the epoxy and other things already from other projects. They wanted to have something carved, but they're still learning and jewelry's a little tougher to carve."

She does have several small wooden animals and a half dozen wooden spoons from those efforts, so she knows they're getting there.

She tugs him close and kisses him thoroughly so he knows she appreciates the effort he put in to letting the kids make their gifts.

"Keep that up, woman, and we're not gonna make it to breakfast."

It's not often he teases that kind of urgency, so she decides it's a challenge she'll accept.

They don't make breakfast at all that morning.

~*~ SW ~*~

Breakfast is gone down to no leftovers at all when Shane snags a couple of the older teenage boys and puts them on dish duty. They don't grumble near as much as he would have at their age, but then again, it puts them on display as doing something nice in front of all the girls. Maybe he would have with that incentive at sixteen too.

He tugs Scout over from where she's put the last of the serving pans to soak and pulls her into a hug. "Anaya's here now," he says softly in her ear. "Gareth says they did presents this morning, and the other girls are spending the rest of the day with Jacqui and Jim. Told him we were gonna talk to her."

"Good. We might have a wrinkle though. If she says yes, she doesn't have an outfit for today."

Sophia's little wedding plot does complicate things a little, on making sure Anaya doesn't feel left out. She might not want to, but they need the option. "Weren't there multiple outfits for Abby since they weren't sure what would fit?"

"Maybe. I'll have to ask Lori for sure."

"If not, we'll figure something out. Change ours up to something we can match for her."

She takes a deep breath and meets his eyes as she takes his hand. "Ready?"

"Yeah. Let's go see if a little girl wants us as parents for Christmas."

~*~ SP ~*~

Sophia sees Scout and Shane going over where the new kids are, the ones everyone's been wondering who'll adopt them. The boys went home with Tyreese and Karen yesterday, but the girls are all still with Gareth and his mom. She didn't even know Scout and Shane were even thinking about adopting any kids, since there's the baby and all. But they're both sitting with the girl, the one that isn't a sister to the other two. Shane is crouched next to where Scout's sitting. She smacks Jazz on the arm and kicks Honey under the table.

"Look, we're getting a new niece!" she whispers as loudly as she can.

Honey shares her enthusiasm by smacking Cricket to attention too. "Look, Cricket."

She kinda hopes the girl doesn't look their way, because it's probably creepy happy that so many people are staring and excited and hoping the girl's going to say yes.

It's a yes.

Shane's got an armful of clinging child and fluffy black curls as Scout slides off her seat to join in the big hug. Sophia bets there's tears too, because she feels like happy crying and Honey is happy crying and Jazz is hugging her tight.

"Oh crap," she says. "We need _presents_."

Time to get to work.


	49. Christmas, Part 2

**December 25, 2010**

~*~ TD ~*~

"Wake up, wake up, wake up!"

Getting bounced on by a _very_ excited six-year-old is a new experience for T-Dog. He rolls enough to see Lilly's laughing - at him for sure - but has Meghan cuddled close to her now so the bouncing is halted.

"It's Christmas, Theo!" Meghan urges.

"It's six in the morning," Lilly adds. "Which is an entire hour later than last year."

He grins, and that's the signal for Meghan to escape her mother to flop onto his chest with the boneless flexibility of a young child. "It's Christmas and we gotta go find the baby and we gotta see the wedding and we gotta go see Abuelita!"

"And we gotta let grown-ups go to the bathroom before we pee the bed," Lilly adds, dryly.

"Eww." That springboards Meghan off the bed and she tumbles to the floor, somehow landing on her feet instead of her head.

"Merry Christmas," Lilly says, smiling as she kisses him before he can return the sentiment. She slides off the bed, obviously meaning her teasing words to her daughter, since she makes a beeline for the bathroom.

"Mama! Do I get to open a present before we go?"

T-Dog's honestly surprised she's asking. He's not sure he could have resisted at her age, but he also knows that things are a lot more low-key here. He slides out of bed and goes to look down the short little hall to see what she's up to as Lilly replies affirmatively.

The little blonde is studying the three presents with the intensity of a football coach deciding his playbook. She reaches out to finger the ribbon on one - real hair ribbon and not the curly plastic type - but stops and studies the next one. Lilly comes out of the bathroom and leans against him, yawning.

"She's trying to figure out which one is from you." The comment is too softly spoken to carry to Meghan on the floor.

He smiles at that, guessing he is a new enough addition to her life for Meghan to wonder what sort of thing he might gift her. She's actually got it figured out too, because she's picked up the package with the blue Christmas bells that Jacqui wrapped for him after laughing at his frustration. He wonders what clue there is, or if it's just a lucky guess.

She looks to them for permission and takes the package to the couch, small fingers searching for purchase in the flaps of paper. He tenses a little, because he's not entirely sure yet that she'll like it, but Lilly slides her arm around his waist and hugs him to her.

She studies the first of the two items in the package. That one he did know she'll like, because Meghan likes making up stories. When he saw the Mad Libs Junior books when they were clearing out a bookstore for Carol's library project, he made sure to put a couple copies back. She frowns at first, sounding out the words on the front, but when she opens the book, she's giggling. "We get to write the stories?"

"Yeah. And they're supposed to be funny. What's really fun is when you know the story, but the other person doesn't, so you get them to fill in the blanks and see how silly it turns out," he explains.

"We're not starting right now," Lilly cautions, seeing the twitchy fingers like Meghan can just feel a pencil in them. "There's another gift, too."

"Oooh, a zoo game!" The Mad Libs book is carefully set aside for her to inspect every inch of the box.

"I'm kind of glad she picked yours. Both will be fun to take over to the nursing home today."

He didn't really plan it with that in mind, but it does work out that way. He can picture the elderly folks that dote on Meghan being easy targets for her to play with.

"Now tell Theo thank you and get dressed. You can put them in your backpack to take with us."

It doesn't matter much to him that the extended length of the hug he's getting from Meghan is avoiding getting dressed and discarding the footie pajamas she loves so much, because it's also full of her whispering her plans for just how much they're going to play together.

It's been a lot of years since he had family on Christmas.

~*~ Jacqui ~*~

The sounds are different in the new apartment, and they don't even have the girls yet. She's good with kids, had to be, with raising her brothers. But it's been a long time since she lived with children. It's not dawn yet, and she can hear Jim's breathing change as some small movement of hers brings him to alertness. She doesn't think he'll ever lose that hair trigger ability to wake up.

"Good morning." His voice is sleep rough but there's no signs of tension as he looks up at her. There have been more good days than bad in the past two months. She no longer worries if he's going to slip out the gates one day and disappear to let walkers finish the job they started in attacking his family. They had nights where he begged for her to let him do that.

She slides her fingers through his chest hair with a smile. White men never interested her before, aside from admiring the occasional movie star, and the body hair difference is definitely a unique experience. But back at the quarry, they fell together more because their choices were few. T-Dog felt like one of her kid brothers, and the Harrison sisters either too young or too bitchy for Jim's shattered psyche back then.

"Glad it's a good one," she says at last. Loving him... continuing this bond that started as physical need... it was such a risk. But when he wakes up like this, content and almost smiling, she's glad she did.

"Gonna have more for good ones now."

She smiles. "Yeah. Girls are gonna be a new thing for both of us. Might have to pester Carol for tips there." She always figured she missed her window of being a mother. Time just got away from her until it wasn't an option anymore. And partnered with Jim? She knows there's no way adoption would have been easy for them. Biracial couples get shamed enough in the Deep South, but a woman as dark as she is with a white man? They'd catch hell from both sides. But here? The consideration is only whether or not Jim was ready to be a father again.

He catches her hand and kisses the palm gently. "You're gonna be good at it. If you can keep me going, little girls will be easy."

"Yeah, well, we'll see if you sing that same tune when they become teenagers." Because here, tucked in at Homestead, she can see that far ahead, especially for Jim and those two precious girls. That's what she's willing to risk, leading her team out there alongside Glenn, to keep bringing back everything they might need and killing off anything that might endanger their lives.

"I'll just practice the 'go ask your mother' routine then."

"Uh-huh. You just try that and see what happens."

"Well, sooner we get up and going, sooner we start finding out. You got breakfast duty this morning anyway, don't you?"

"I do. Might not remember how after all these months."

Jim scoffs as he sits up and stretches. It's another sign of his recovery, that he's putting on muscle again, after the bony thinness he reached in the worst months after they got here. She strokes her hand down his back and he looks over his shoulder at her and takes her hand to kiss the palm again.

"Love you." The words against her skin are an accomplishment for him. She knows from his worst nightmares he's afraid he'll lose her too. But now he's lost that battle, of not being as attached to her as she is to him, so he's vocal. Even leaving for the bathroom, he has to say the words.

"Love you, too." She follows after him through the apartment, putting on water for tea. She hears him start his morning routine, grumbling a bit because he's not used to the new bathroom yet. "I put the beard oil in the cabinet," she calls out.

He glances up at her from the mirror and gives her one of those rare, bright smiles and damned if it doesn't make her heart sing. Something so simple, just telling him where something he needs is before he manages to ask, and he smiles like she handed him keys to the moon.

~*~ Amy ~*~

Dale's declined the time off his morning watch shift, reminding Jamie, who offered so he would have time with Andrea and Amy this morning, that he has a family wedding to worry over. So, after collecting breakfast for Dale and Rafael (who is subbing so Amalia can have a day off), she and Andrea trail over to the watch building. Jamie doesn't make it this far with them, 'kidnapped' into some sort of whispered plotline of his younger siblings that involves the newest addition.

Dale thanks them for his breakfast, smiling a little at the carefully healthy selection she hands him. Neither of them have brought it up to Andrea yet, that Dale's getting more regular physicals because of his lab numbers. Andrea rarely deals well with problems she can't yell at.

As soon as Andrea's back from the flirty food delivery to the young ex-Vato, she slips the knitted scarf from her coat pocket and drapes it around Dale's neck with a grin.

"This is beautiful, Amy. Did you do it yourself?" He's petting the soft teal scarf, fingers finding the pattern quickly. His obvious pleasure makes the hours she spent on the practice scarf currently hidden in her drawer at home - which is as lumpy and disgruntled a piece of clothing as ever existed - worthwhile. Maybe she'll even knit another, someday. Even Andrea liked hers, evident by the fact that she has the emerald green fabric draped around her throat. For all that Andrea's lack of tact irritates her sometimes, her sister would never falsely compliment a gift.

"Patricia taught me. Jamie survived being in the same apartment with me and knitting needles, but he did gently suggest a new hobby." Several times.

This is the closest they'll come today without an audience she thinks, so she tugs her glove off and lets them see her left hand. He asked last night, after the bulk of their over-sugared and caffeinated charges finally crashed. Just a sweet, simple proposal and the pretty little ring with her birthstone as the prominent stone instead of a diamond. That emerald is the prettiest thing she thinks she's ever seen.

"Oh, my dear, I'm so happy for you." Dale's out of his seat, confident that his watch partner can have the screens for a minute, and he hugs her tightly. She holds him close, knowing this is as close as she'll ever come to telling her father her news.

Andrea's more reserved, but she knows her sister thinks she's rushing things. But she's known Jamie for months and feels like she's known him for years. Waiting, drawing things out artificially, she just doesn't see the point. She's not like Andrea, wanting to sample the wares among the young, single men. Andrea's happy doing that, some burden gone from her that's been there as long as Amy can remember, and the men sure seem to enjoy the attention.

"You're sure?" she asks, taking her hand once Dale's released her and touching the ring with far more gentleness than she believed her sister capable of anymore.

She's in love with the man sings off-key in their shower and brings her tea every morning in bed, convincing her to try new and exotic brews while they still have supplies. He shares her need to design and sketch and build, even if right now, his time is spent more in the field fetching and retrieving for those who actually get to build and what little extra time he has studying nursing to fill the need for their people. She loves his relationship with his adopted family and hearing stories about the brother and grandmother long lost to him. She tells them both this, and Dale tears up a little while Andrea gives her a hug.

If she doesn't tell them that all the good comes along with a man who gets nightmares when he gets too hot, who sometimes has to pace in the night, and has something behind his eyes that he only discusses with his adopted sister, that's her own business. They don't need those details. It's why he gives up on what he wants to do, so that things will become safe enough to where serving outside the walls of Homestead is a choice and not a necessity.

But that last, the part she doesn't tell? That's why she said yes.

~*~ Morales ~*~

Alvaro Morales wonders what would have happened if back in the Quarry, he stuck to his original plan to travel with his family to Alabama. After hearing the horror story of their trek there and back from the Roberts' brothers, he doesn't think his family would have fared well. One fighter, a woman they didn't yet know was pregnant, and two small children? It doesn't bear thinking about.

Instead, he's part of one of the lead teams that eradicates the ills of the world, in a way his military service promised but failed to deliver. His children are growing and learning, and if their days now include weapon and fighting training the old world would never considered, so be it. And his beautiful Miranda... every day their newest child grows sheltered beneath her heart, kept safe in a community where everyone would die to protect them just as his family would have if they reached them. She spends her days caring for children left with her because everyone knows she's devoted to the small ones, not because it's cheaper to hire a Mexican babysitter.

He wishes he knew of his mother and brothers' fates and what became of their families, and maybe one day, he'll travel and find out. But not now. Not when he can lie on the couch in Miranda's barely-there lap in the little cabin put together by himself and his team and see his daughter exclaim over books and paints while her brother plays with a kitten in the floor. Last year, Christmas morning was all about the electronic gadgets and angry tears of not wanting to have to spend part of their winter holidays from school on the road to visit family.

Under his ear, he hears the thump-thump-thump of his unborn son's heart and knows he made the right choice.

~*~ RG ~*~

Rosita's nervous as hell next to him at breakfast, damn near cutting off circulation in his fingers as she sees Carl coming their way. He's got Abby with him, a common enough sight these days, so he's not surprised when the girl joins them for breakfast. Her easy relationship with Carl makes him sad sometimes, since he thinks if he were less stubborn about seeing that specialist in Atlanta Lori wanted to see, maybe Carl would have had a sibling sooner.

As hard as it is that Carl spends all his night time hours with his mother and her new family, he equally loves hearing Carl's rambling chats about reading with Abby at night and admires his son's blatant attempts to drag him into the mix. Having supper at Lori and Daryl's place is a once a week norm now, every Monday night. In the old world? He can't imagine that would have worked the same way. Abby openly calls him Uncle Rick and trails around behind him asking questions the same way she does to Merle or any other Dixon.

Before he can start the conversation, his smart, savvy son pauses halfway through his too-sweet breakfast and studies them both. Rick realizes their posture is a giveaway that they're holding hands to a teenager being trained by three different cops and a Marine about observation.

"So, is Rosita coming to supper Monday night too then?"

Abby looks up, blond curls bobbing. She's a little confused as she glances between the adults and Carl, so he nudges her. "Dad's dating Rosita now."

"Oh. Like Mama and Daddy or like Gage and Beth?"

The question confuses Rick a little until he realizes she's asking about commitment levels.

"I dunno." But Carl's got a little bit of a smirk going and then Rick remembers exactly who his next-door neighbor is - and who visits that neighbor constantly. Honey Dixon falls into that grey area of being old enough to be an adult but young enough the teenagers still listen to her. There's no way she wouldn't have filled Carl in the second she suspected.

"As in Rosita and I are going to be sharing the same apartment."

Rosita's grip tightens to more than painful, and he wonders why she's so nervous. But she doesn't know his son. Carl's already got her filed away in his head the same way he has Daryl. Accepted.

He nudges Carl under the table and the teenager laughs before reaching across the table to offer a hand. "Hi, Rosita. I'm Carl. Welcome to the weirdest clan on earth. If you can convince him to shave, I think there's cookies in it for you."

She has to let go of him to take Carl's hand and laughs herself. "I kinda like the beard. Think it'll be okay if it stays around?"

Carl just laughs and diverts attention to the fact that Abby's using his distraction to steal bites of his food. Their mock-squabble gives Rick time to lean in and kiss Rosita sweetly.

"See, painless. Give it a few hours and he'll be trying to convince you to join the debate on how old is old enough for a motorcycle for him."

"I should say thirty, right?" She's smiling now, relaxing and splitting her attention between him and the debate over just why Carl's breakfast tastes better than Abby's when they have the exact same things on their plates.

"Depends. If you want his mother's good graces, 'never'. The cop in me agrees with her. His stepdad's on Carl's side of things, so if you want to throw in with them, 'fourteen' seems to be the set number, but Daryl's idea is a dirt bike for on-property, not revving through the streets."

Rosita laughs. "The honest answer? I been on bikes since I was younger than fourteen, and hell, they give you a permit in Texas at fifteen for the smaller ones. Might get hit by lightning if I side with you and his mama."

"Oh God. Another one. Now we're gonna be outnumbered, because I'm pretty sure Abby's gonna vote with Carl just to be ornery."

That earns him a kiss, and he's glad of the public affection, and the easy acceptance of his unique family she's already showing.

Abraham's loss is most certainly his gain.

~*~ AF ~*~

"It seems Rosita is doing the meet the family breakfast."

Abraham looks to where Michonne's angled her shoulder to let him see beyond her. The kiss Rosita shares with the bearded ex-deputy with his kid right there shows meeting the kid must be going well.

"Good for her." He's sincere with those words. Classic good guy of the white knight type like Rick Grimes? Maybe he can manage the forever Rosita wanted and Abraham no longer has the heart to give anyone.

"You know, I believe you're pretty sincere on that." The lawyer smiles at him and he wonders again why she persists in hanging around. Sometimes he thinks maybe it's an extra set of eyes making sure he stays on the straight and narrow. Other times, he thinks she honestly wants to be friends. Either way, she's underfoot enough since the first night they drank rum-laced hot chocolate that he does have to consider that his circle here is wider than his team, Rosita, and Eugene.

The fact that his team is entirely made of women is something he knows is on purpose. He saw that particular glint in Scout's eyes when she made the assignment. It's a double-edged sword - continue to prove his first day here was an anomaly _and_ make sure all three of those ladies stay safe and whole. They're all competent women, well trained by Marine and cop methods, and one even an Army boot camp survivor like himself. But now all three of them can brawl like the biggest redneck in a Texas bar.

It's earned him a damned training class one evening a week now, surprisingly popular with the women who fell victim at Grady and now the new ones from Terminus.

He trains them just as hard as the women on his team, because maybe, just maybe, if he pushed Ellen a little harder, insisted on those martial arts classes the base offered for military wives... Maybe she still couldn't fight off three men at once, but she might have survived the dead themselves.

He's honest with the women too, especially the recent ones from Terminus. They know why he pushes so hard and demands so much.

It took Eugene's lie to give him something to live for in Houston.

Maybe this new effort won't save all those dying outside in the world. But it will make this little cluster of people safer, so he'll bare all the ugly details so that if anyone's ever foolish enough to take on these ladies again, they're going to have a mighty big shock and hopefully a knife in the throat like that one damned tigress did.

He'll give them the muscle memory to fight.

After that, Scout's promised him... she'll give them their claws.

Michonne takes a moment from redirecting Andre to eat his food and not wear it to toss a small drawstring bag next to his plate. "Merry Christmas."

He opens the small bag and empties the item inside into his palm. The weight of it is much more than the small bronze feather and necklace cord.

He meets her eyes and she shrugs. "So you always have a reminder."

Abraham slips the cord over his head, feeling the cool metal drop against his chest.

Neither of them comment about the raw emotion on his face.

~*~ EP ~*~

"Why are you over here by yourself?"

Eugene knows Honey dropped onto the seat next to him by the small jolt it gives his seat at the table. He blinks a little to recall her question, using his unused spoon to hold his place in the book.

"Rosita is eating with Rick and kids and you were with your family when I came in." Plus, he has the book Rosita gave him last night he's already reading.

She taps her fingers across his forearm and when he smiles, pulls him into a hug. "You know you're always welcome to sit with me even with family, right?"

He shrugs. "It's Christmas."

"Exactly." She takes his wrist and begins to fasten on a leather cuff. Once it's laced into place, she rotates his wrist to show the wrist watch hidden under a leather flap. "You said you missed a watch that ticks, and now it's protected if you're working with something."

He releases the protective leather. The watch face is designed to show as much of the mechanics as possible. "An automatic?"

"I thought you might like not needing a battery."

He draws his fingers along the soft leather and smiles. "Is this why you started going on runs again?"

"Well, I wasn't sure they would find the right watch. Luckily, there was logic in stocking up on timepieces that don't need batteries."

She's still holding his hand where she turned his wrist, so he squeezes gently. The contrast in their skin tones is almost as fascinating as the feel of her warm fingertips against his palm. He notes idly that she's painted her nails in Christmas colors, a feminine touch on hands roughed from work with weapons and tools. "Thank you. It is the most thought anyone has put into a gift for me in a long time."

"Keep telling you, lotta stupid people in your life before." She wriggles her fingers to tickle his palm and grins before releasing his hand. "I gotta go help with Sophia's rampage to make sure Anaya doesn't feel left out today. You gonna be busy this evening?"

"I only have plans to read at the moment." He taps the book Rosita gifted him.

"I'll pop by then, if you want, since I skipped out on our plans last night."

"That would be satisfactory as well."

"Alright. Don't get lost in the book all day."

She fluffs his hair on her way to rejoin her siblings. He fixes it automatically and looks back at the watch. He refastens the protective covering with care, but doesn't return to his book.

The table shifts again, but across from him this time and someone much larger than Honey. He looks up to see Abraham studying him, expression solemn.

"In the spirit of the holiday, I would like to apologize again for the violent way I reacted to your revelations."

Eugene isn't sure how to respond, so he manages a thank you.

"I should have provided you more skills instead of assuming you couldn't learn them. Letting a teenage girl outstrip me there. I understand you're fully qualified on rifle now."

"I have a most persuasive teacher." He isn't sure where Abraham is going with this and draws his fingers against the cuff's lacing. "But I am not nearly as skilled with the pistol as yet."

"I suspect you'll conquer that as well. Be willing to offer a few lessons myself. Not as pretty as the little gal, but you might learn something."

"If you are implying I am only learning because of Hannah's physical attributes, you're barking up the wrong tree, and insulting a lady who does not deserve the implication." He's actually offended, not for himself, but for Honey. It shows in his voice and the burly man reacts.

"Huh. Always wondered what it would take for a man like you to bite back. Bit of a white knight in every man with the right inspiration."

"She doesn't need a knight, Abraham. She _is_ the knight. And despite my admitted proclivities, she's off limits."

"I suppose you are right about that. I suspect young Miss Dixon is eminently capable of kicking ass and taking names all on her own." Abraham leans back on his seat, studying him. "Is it her age or something else that makes her off limits when you used to make it a daily task to get a good look at Rosita's tits?"

Eugene tangles his fingers in the leather lacing, twisting the loose ends. "I do not wish for her to look at me the way Rosita does."

"Rosita likes you. Better than me these days."

"That is true. But she also pities me. Most women do. Hannah does not, and I very much desire to keep it that way." He used to justify it as a victimless crime. But losing Honey's friendship or worse, having her pity him with flashes of teasing flesh like Rosita, he finds intolerable.

If he presses down, he can feel the watch ticking. He focuses on that rather than the expression Abraham now wears.

"Ah, hell, Eugene. You're so gone on that girl you can't breathe, aren't you?"

He doesn't answer. It's not an admission he's ready to make.

Abraham sighs. "Gonna give you a piece of advice, Eugene. You don't nut up and see if she's interested right back, you're dumber than a sack of hammers."

He looks up finally, and the big redhead is actually looking sympathetic. "She is my friend."

"And she'll still be your friend if she doesn't return the sentiment. Just like Rosita is still your friend even though you've peeped her enough to have her better memorized than I do."

"You would tell her, if it were you?"

"I got a lotta regret in my checkered life, Eugene, but one thing I cannot regret is telling my late wife I was head over heels for her our senior year of high school."

"Okay." It's not a firm commitment, but Abraham lets that slide. Eugene meets his gaze carefully, and all he sees for once is the type of empathy he's always craved.

"Things go rough, come by and we'll get well and truly drunk and swear off women until the next pretty face."

That makes him laugh, just a little, and even as Abraham leaves the table, the hand that clamps down on his shoulder is comforting for once.

He studies his book, words on the page unintelligible. Maybe he'll find the courage somewhere.

Opening the watch flap again, he feels the cool glass of the watch face, of the gift she went out of her way to provide, and oh God, he _wants_.


	50. Christmas, Part 3

**December 25, 2010**

~*~ SW ~*~

They're overdue at the main house, but Shane figures everyone will understand. The rest of the day may be too busy to get into stores to make sure the second bedroom becomes Anaya's bedroom. It's one thing Scout insists on, that for Anaya to start feeling safe, she needs some degree of control over her environment. More importantly to them both, she needs more than the backpack of clothing and personal items she retrieves from the bunkhouse she's been sharing with Gareth's family.

Luckily, being on council means they don't have to rouse Carol or Lori for access to inventory, and they've helped unload enough to not really need the computer to find what might be. It doesn't take them long, because they don't want to overwhelm her with too much too soon, but she's walking down to the cabin holding each of their hands, her expanded possessions in the wagon.

He lets them step ahead of him into the cabin, unloading the wagon to the couch and leaving it parked outside. Scout's giving Anaya the tour and the girl is reaching out to brush everything hesitantly as if she can memorize her surroundings with her fingertips.

"I have my own room?" she asks, the first words she's added to Scout's tour spiel. The door's open, so part of the brightly lit room is visible, the plainly made bunk beds with their tidy blue blankets in case any of the younger family members stayed the night.

"Yes. You remember the baby, right?" he says, stepping close to them. Anaya's hesitating and hasn't stepped forward toward the room yet. He knows Terminus kept all the children together, since they had so few even before the attack.

She nods, the motion making her black curls bob around her face.

"Well, we added a room, because eventually the baby will be big enough to need a bed when she's here. But that'll be maybe a year from now. So, for at least that long, the room will be just yours, and even after, she won't be sleeping here every night."

"They're next door? The other cabin?"

"Daryl, Lori, Carl, and Abby, plus the baby when she comes. It's one big backyard, so you'll be able to go next door when you like as well."

"Because Daryl is an uncle, right?" she's frowning. He doesn't blame her, because there's a lot of Dixons to keep up with.

"And because when we have to be on runs, Lori will look after you for us, probably most of the time, since Abby is about your age. Other times it might be Carol," Scout explains.

"Okay." Anaya lets go of Scout's hand and goes into the room at last, leaving them to hover at the door.

"It doesn't have to stay blue," he offers, but Anaya's smiling, and he remembers that the comforter she picked out for the bed is a navy blue sea life one.

"I like blue best. Then green or yellow." She's admiring the stained glass, tracing the silvery dividing lines with her fingers for the geometric design Scout did on the alternating panes.

"You'll fit in here then. Both our favorite colors are blue." Scout indicates the empty shelves. "We can put your things up, and we'll get you a table if you like for the middle of the room for art or puzzles." Shane actually thinks it will be more 'made' than 'gotten' once Merle knows what the girl wants.

"Can we do that now? Put things up?" Anaya's glancing toward the couch, which holds all her belongings, old and new.

They agree, so everyone sheds their winter wear in a pile on a kitchen chair and gets to work. It doesn't take long, with Shane and Scout acting as her helpers, to have books, puzzles, and a few select toys on the shelves, and all her clothing tucked neatly away. He makes a mental note that she needs about double what she has, for the long-term, and to check in that the rest of Terminus has at least a week's worth. The shelves are still fairly sparsely populated, but he knows that'll change over time. She leaves the blankets on the bed, spreading her comforter out a little clumsily, but smiles at the fish themed bed.

"Would Brandy and Jocelyn get to stay the night sometimes?" she asks.

"That can be easily arranged, and you can stay the night with them as well." Scout takes her hand and leads her to the bathroom, now situated between the two bedrooms, so they can put away the final few things.

It's funny how something as small and simple as a child's toothbrush in the cupholder with theirs makes it all feel real.

~*~ CP ~*~

"It looks like a gift wrap store exploded in here," Carol says happily. She starts to get up, to start tidying away paper, but doesn't make it far before Cricket cries out something about evasive action and plops Christian in her lap.

"You have a bazillion able bodied people for wrapping paper patrol, Carol," she advises. "Enjoy baby slobber while we do that today."

Christian's apparently in on the plot, as he promptly tries to stick his fingers from his mouth to hers. She dries them off with the little bib he's wearing to protect his clothes from all the teething drool and decides to roll with it and pretends to nibble fingers while the baby cackles with glee.

She's lost Merle somewhere in the chaos of two dozen people tossing Christmas presents at each other (the adults anyway) and sorting out ones for the kids. She's still overjoyed that everyone voted to wait and have a massive group Christmas present exchange rather than lots of little ones, although she's fairly certain it's because it gives everyone a chance to spoil the smaller ones. Even without the craziness of an old-world Christmas of oodles of individual presents, the kids are still getting a lot of unique and individualized items from their loved ones.

She loves that there's no line between Christian, Abby, Meghan, or Andre in that, and despite not entirely knowing Anaya would be joining the family as of bedtime last night, somehow, her crazy, adorable offspring seem to have magicked up an equal offering to welcome the girl to the family. From the several handmade items in Anaya's bag, she suspects most of the crafters in the family delved into extras, but the girl doesn't seem to mind. Carol's own contribution was intended for the unborn baby, but it suits Anaya too.

Anaya keeps touching the little necklace at her throat as if it might disappear, and it's good match for the ones the other girls are wearing, although those are even on the teenagers. Someone managed a trip by Daryl's workshop to get it engraved too.

At least Anaya looks a little less wary and suspicious than she did when she first arrived, about half an hour after everyone else, to already find the living room a sea of paper and giggling. She's also sporting a navy cable knit hat that looks like a match to one of Shane's gifts. When Patricia produced the child-sized hat for the girl, she just shrugged and told Carol she had a good feeling about things. She may have been the only one certain the couple would take the plunge, but Carol's glad they did. Anaya's folded into the oversized bean bag with Scout and Shane as if she's spent all her Christmases here instead of just a few hours of this one.

Honey hugs her from behind the couch, sliding her arms around Carol's shoulders and kissing her cheek before smooching Christian's forehead for good measure. "Are you having a good Christmas, Mom?"

Carol reaches up to cup the back of the teenager's neck in the best hug she can give at this angle. "Absolutely the best, sweetheart."

"Y'all are just going to do a little ceremony before everyone eats, right?" she asks.

Maybe Carol's only been the mother of _this_ many kids for a few months, but she's been a mother long enough to catch on to a plot afoot from that carefully worded question.

"That's the plan, yes. Just us, nothing fancy." Other than the nice clothes Merle insisted on, but most people will probably be wearing nice things for the Christmas 'mega-meal' they're serving at two. Everyone's on their own if they need evening snacks if the leftovers don't hold out. After Thanksgiving, she suspects there will be plenty, even if she's been banned from cooking and spent the morning relaxing with Merle.

"Not even Hershel, right?"

"Hannah Catherine, just how much are y'all plotting?" Like she can say no, if the kids have something planned. Formalizing the relationship is as much for the kids as for her and Merle.

Honey squirms a little and tightens her hug. "For once, I am not the ringleader. I have created a monster who is more persuasive than I ever dreamed. The student has surpassed the master."

_Sophia_. Carol laughs softly. "I'll let you keep the secret then."

"Good. She's worked really hard on it." She parts with another kiss and a blithe love you as she heads off on whatever new quest she has for her day.

Carol eyes Christian. "Were you in on this plot too, little man?"

He cackles enough that she suspects he probably was, so she covers him in kisses.

"Hey now, baby boy, don't steal all Grandpa's kisses."

Merle's grinning as he reclaims his seat beside her. "You look really damn happy, darlin'," he says softly. "Just glowing like the moon."

So, he gets a kiss and that's a signal for Christian to kiss them both, and ending a kiss covered in baby drool might be just one of her all-time favorites.

~*~ TD ~*~

"Sorry, oops, wild wildebeest on the tromp here," Honey exclaims as she literally plows into T-Dog while carrying boxes from further down the hall that are mostly blocking her vision of where she's going.

"How about I help you with those?" He appropriates the top box and gives her his best smile, happy when she returns it as brightly as she used to smile at him. "Where are they going?"

"Front porch for now, then one's going home with Scout and one with you."

He follows her out the front door, bypassing the mass of people all over the living areas of the house, feeling puzzled. "Me?"

She sits her box down and fishes a pen out of a pocket and writes "Walsh" on that box. "There, now you'll remember which one is yours. Well, Meghan's, actually, but I don't figure you're going to make her carry it."

That answers his question about whether or not she's aware he hasn't been "home" overnight in a week or more. It's just become harder and harder not to stay the night, and while he and Lilly haven't formally had the 'move in' discussion, he knows it's coming.

"What's in the boxes?" he asks.

"Clothes, books, and toys for the girls. Some from the attic, because I think Daddy's physically incapable of tossing anything we kids owned. A couple of sneaky ones that might have left inventory today while I had Tyreese's key."

He arches a brow at her and she shrugs. "I don't really spend my credits on much."

"I think Meghan will like having things that used to be her cousins'." Because that's how it seems to have settled out. Tara's family, therefore Lilly and Meghan are family, and with this relationship with Lilly, he supposes he's going to be included from now on.

"I hope so. If she's less than impressed with anything, just chuck it in my place and I'll rehome it again."

She doesn't move to go back inside, instead stuffing her hands in her pockets and shivering with a smile in the chill air with no coat in a Rudolph sweater that he suspects has the ability to play cheesy Christmas music. She's lost that little furrow between her brows when she looks at him.

"I've missed you," he admits. He knows he made the right decision in not accepting a relationship with Honey, because he's found what he was missing with Lilly. Even now, standing in the near-midday sunshine, she just looks so _young_ to his eyes. But they call her Honey for a reason, and he's missed her sweet brand of bright friendship fiercely.

"I missed you too." He gets a flash of mischievous smile. "Maybe we should play Boggle again, now and then, when you've got time."

"As if I'm the only one with a full social calendar now."

That draws a laugh out of her. "I suppose I haven't been home much myself, have I?"

"Not really." He knows it was deliberate at first, her changing her routine so that they didn't have awkward conversations on their shared porch. Then she broke her arm and her schedule really changed for a while, but even back to her normal routine, he's fairly sure she's only been home twice in the entire past week in the night time hours. He's seen her trekking back from other parts of the Village on his way out to his morning run too many times.

She hugs him tightly, pressing one cold cheek to his. "You look so damned happy," she says softly. "I like it."

He hugs her back, glad they're over the hurdle of what wasn't to be and that she seems genuinely content to see him with Lilly. "You're looking happy too. Whatever it is, keep doing it."

She just laughs and lets him go. "Let's get inside before we have to go plead with your lady to fix our frostbite," she says, opening the door and leading the way back inside.

She bobbles off to join in a conversation that ends with her draped across Christopher's back from the arm of the couch where he's sitting, and he rejoins Lilly in the kitchen after remembering to actually go use the bathroom like he intended.

"You two clear the air?" Lilly asks.

He nods and moves to help her stack the food prepared here into the boxes for transport down to the community center. He's been honest with Lilly about what happened, and thankfully, she seemed amused by his obliviousness and supported his wish to mend the friendship.

Lilly brushes a kiss across his lips in passing. He's a very lucky man.

~*~ TC ~*~

"Babies make out like bandits even in the apocalypse," Tara remarks as she slides the box on their couch. Cricket laughs as she strips off the baby's pudding stained reindeer outfit.

"Be glad it's not before, when my father would have shamelessly bought out a baby toy store for him. Hand me that little black outfit, why don't you?"

Tara passes her the outfit and studies the box. Almost every item is handmade or close to it. With storerooms of stuff available for the taking, their family reverted to crafts instead. There are wooden blocks and animals, handmade clothes, and felt and crocheted animals.

Her favorite is the sock monkey family Carol made, which is very obviously meant to be them: cop, doctor, baby with crazy hair. They're perfect.

"I'm just glad he used your dad as a nap pillow so he won't be cranky." It's always intriguing to see any of the Dixons go stock still under a sleeping baby's influence.

"Well, we're down to the wire at least. Less than an hour to keep him happy and clean."

Tara grins, already stripping off her morning outfit for the nicer slacks, shirt, vest, and tie. "Think Carol will like the embellishment?"

"I think she will, since it's a family fuss and not a fuss raised over her. Her dress is gorgeous, though. Thank heavens for Jacqui being an argumentative expert in talking her around. Otherwise, she would have worn something more demure and less 'bring on Dixon kid number seven.'"

"That doesn't feel weird? The idea that you could end up with siblings an entire generation younger?"

"Sometimes. But Carol's a good mom and part of me wants to see Daddy get to be the doting expectant father like Daryl."

"You just love babies."

The look Chris gives her is wistful and she kisses her gently as she takes Christian so she can change too. She keeps her close to run a hand over Chris' firm stomach. "We've got the world's best Christmas present coming later, don't forget." And weirdest.

Her partner started charting her ovulation cycle two weeks before Christian came into their lives. They considered waiting, but since every couple Chris knows who conceived took three to six months, he'll likely be two before there's a second baby, especially since he turns one next month, four days after Merle's birthday.

There's tonight's 'present' and a promise of another delivery in two days. Then repeat next month, for as long as it takes.

Chris no longer has to wait on finishing years of medical school to have a baby, and Tara's going to do her part to make sure she gets one and Christian a sibling.

"It almost feels greedy, in this world," Chris murmurs, kissing the baby's head before moving off to change.

"Dead outside our walls is all the more reason for new life inside them." It's the perfect response, because Chris beams at her. "Now, hurry up and get dressed before we end up late."

Maybe it is greedy, but the woman she loves deserves this.

~*~ DD ~*~

Daryl reaches out and straightens Merle's tie, smiling. He's hoping Merle doesn't read anything into his all-black outfit other than dressing nice for today. But thankfully his brother is distracted.

"'Bout gave up on seeing you getting married again."

"Could say the same for you, Daryl. You gonna shack up forever like Cricket or wait for the baby to be flower girl?"

He scoffs. "Would stand up with you and Carol today if I thought she might agree so soon. She's all focused on the baby for now."

"Don't stop you from asking the question now."

"Ain't as slow as you imply." To prove it, he slides the ring out of his vest pocket, holding his self-designed ring out for Merle to inspect.

"Damn fine work. You should set up shop and cater to folks wanting personalized work."

Daryl just shrugs. He enjoys working with the various materials and sees no reason to profit from it. It's good enough seeing them on people.

He returns the ring to safekeeping. "You nervous?"

"Not one bit. Never been more sure of anything in my life except loving you kids." Merle smiles, adjusting Daryl's own tie out of long habit. "First time I got married, I thought I might pass out right there in church. And I was impatient because my mind wasn't on my bride, but the day-long series of flights it was going to take me to get to Georgia and you. Didn't even have a wedding night until about a week later."

"I didn't know it was that close, marrying and coming back for me." He tries to imagine his big brother, so frantic to get to him he barely remembers his wedding. And mourning his mama...

"Lil may have changed over the years, but back then, she had her priorities on straight. Drove me to the airport herself. Told me bring her a baby home."

Daryl stiffens at the mention and Merle sighs. "She loved you, Daryl. I don't know what went wrong, but you were the light of her life when she first got you. Lugged your little blond behind all over that island bragging like she won the lottery."

"Don't matter much now." He doesn't want to think of the mother who abandoned him on a day Merle's marrying a woman who would die before she abandoned her kids.

"Maybe, maybe not. But it stands to say that on my wedding days, both times it's a woman who loves you as her own."

"Carol's the only one I'm ever going to worry about on that. And best not wait a week for that wedding night," he teases, ignoring the heavier implications of his adoptive mother.

Merle snorts. "Y'all gonna be lucky if we finish the meal after."

"Dunno. She might let you eat to keep your strength up. She's marrying an old fart, after all."

It gets the desired laugh and then a bear hug. "Glad you're here with me today, Daryl. Wouldn't have any other man stand witness."

~*~ CP ~*~

"Damned if that dress doesn't make you glow like a beacon," Jacqui says. She commandeered Honey's apartment as closest to the community center, so Carol doesn't freeze for long. It seems wrong to cover the beautiful dress, even for a short walk.

It's a simple A-line, sweeping to the floor and more black than burgundy, but she loves the way the deeper red satin flashes beneath the black lace. There's apparently a cape, but she thinks it'll make her feel too Snow White.

"Just needs one last thing," the older woman advises.

She slides a pretty red stone against the hollow of Carol's throat. It's costume jewelry, but gorgeous, suspended on a black satin ribbon. She's already woven a sparkly net of burgundy flowers into Carol's slowly lengthening hair, and Carol's wearing makeup for the first time since before Sophia was born, courtesy of Lori's deft hand.

The transformation makes Carol almost question her reflection.

"That man's gonna swallow his own tongue when he sees you."

She laughs. "I hope not. I'm fond of him keeping it around."

Lori giggles and Jacqui arches a brow when Carol joins in, blushing. "Guess you two discovered the joys of a man with great attention to detail."

That sets them off further. Carol's never joked about her sex life, even indirectly, since high school. It feels good. It's even better to know that all of them were lonely women before the world ended and found unexpected gifts in the men they love.

"The day we set foot in that quarry, you ever picture where we are today being anything near possible?" she asks.

"Based on the first impressions we and our menfolk made on each other, no way," Lori admits.

"We've all come a long way, haven't we?" Jacqui says.

Carol thinks back. The bored career woman and two unhappy housewives, adding in a barely in the living world mechanic and two seemingly redneck assholes? Yeah, she wouldn't have believed it on a soap opera, yet here they are.

She gives a little twirl, glad they're in an apartment shared by two girls fastidious enough to have a full-length mirror.

"You think either of you will make it formal?" she asks.

"Give me about six weeks past the baby. I want a wedding night I'm flexible enough to really enjoy." Lori's thin frame makes her belly dominate her body, so Carol can understand the sentiment.

Jacqui laughs at that. "Doubt Jim and I will, but if he asks, I'll say yes."

Glad to have their friendship, and Lori's inevitably a sister even if she never actually marries Daryl, Carol tugs Jacqui into a hug and then Lori.

"Thank you, for all this."

"That's what friends are for," Lori says. "Well, that and listening when Merle eventually makes you want to trade him in on a pet fish."

That's the kind of friendship she missed so much in all the years with Ed. Here, just as she's safe with the man she's marrying, she'll never be alone again.

It's the first blessing she's counting today.

~*~ JD ~*~

Jazz looks at Sophia, who looks more nauseous than excited now that it's almost time. He understands the stage fright and hopes they practiced enough, because she'll never forgive herself if she forgets a line.

He pulls her in for a hug. "Just breathe deep and remember you're singing solo a bit but we're all right with you."

She buries her face in his chest and groans. "You know all the words and the best version is sung by a man. You sing it. I'll do chorus."

"If I thought you really wanted that, I would, but you're gonna do just fine. Just be glad you aren't playing too."

She does look up to give him a wan smile at that reaching out to play with his guitar strap. "Would you teach me?"

"Later? Sure."

She spends the rest of the time they wait on their parents leaned into him and whispering lines to herself. He can't resist humming along, which gets them even more smiles off his siblings, but he doesn't care.

Sophia will be fine, and hopefully Carol will really like their gift for her wedding day. Knowing his mother, she will love it even if Sophia forgets every single word. That's what mamas do.


	51. Christmas, Part 4

**December 25, 2010**

~*~ MD ~*~

Although it's not a big, flashy wedding with music and dancing, they did concede to the idea of having an entrance. Merle's being summoned, or rather Daryl is, because he answers the radio before slipping it into a coat pocket of the coat he's carrying, not wearing. Daryl does still have his gun on him, but it's moved from its usual spot at his hip to inside the back waistband of his slacks.

It's a testament to their recent care about not being too careless about going unarmed that Merle feels damn naked without his. But even with the waistcoat he's wearing, he just doesn't want to have a gun against his back as his own reminder today. The gun in his boot holster might be part of his comfort level there.

They're both all in black, even with matching burgundy ties, but where Merle's wearing a heavier waistcoat Jacqui swears to him is a perfect match for Carol's dress, Daryl's just in shirtsleeves... until he reaches for something hung on a coat hook by the front door and grins.

The satin vest has a burgundy pattern and a cut that doesn't match Merle's. "You'll see in just a minute," he's assured.

Figuring he and Carol are about to have their day embellished a little, he just shakes his head and smiles, following the younger man down to the community center. He catches a glimpse of Jacqui standing lookout up at Honey's place just as Daryl snags his elbow to guide him inside.

The place is not only crowded to the gills because all of the elderly are here too, courtesy of some creative wheelchair work, but he thinks everyone in the place is present except his bride, her best friend, and her escort.

The food on the counters and serving tables might put Thanksgiving to shame, and the scent of the place has got to be driving everyone nutty, so he's glad they're not making a big production of it.

Now he sees the reason for Daryl's grin, once his brother's passed his coat off to a waiting Patrick.

Every single member of the family, including the adopted ones and in-laws, are dressed exactly as Daryl is. They've even adapted the vest and shirt maternity style for Lori and somehow rustled up something for Anaya. They're spread out in a semi-circle as Daryl leads him to stand between the family and their community.

It's not until Jacqui's slipped inside and taken a seat beside Jim that he really understands the full scale.

As soon as the doors open, Jazz begins playing, the notes familiar, although fully acoustic. But it's not his son's voice, as expected, that starts into the sweet lyrics of _Stand By Me_, but Sophia's sweet, clear soprano. She's closest to him and takes his hand as her mother's entrance is temporarily halted as Carol covers her mouth with her free hand, overcome with seeing her entire family before her.

Hershel, well prepared as always, passes Carol a handkerchief and lets her lean into him. He's glad the males of the family all backed off in favor of the older man escorting Carol, because it allows for this testimonial of welcome to his beautiful lady from everyone.

Her dress is just as breathtaking as he's been warned, clinging along her figure and making her look like an old school Hollywood starlet. It's not the first time he feels his breath hitch at how damn beautiful she is. He doubts it'll be the last.

The impact of the song is bigger when the chorus is reached, because all the family joins in. Merle can hear Jazz and Jamie's familiar baritones, with Daryl's lighter tenor joined by Glenn and Shane. The ladies' sopranos blend well, although he can still hear Scout's contralto in the balance, mostly because as Carol recovers and steps to the waiting semi-circle, he realizes they're meant to close the circle, not stand inside it. Sophia has his hand, and Scout has Carol's.

As the song draws to an end, they end up with armfuls of children, adults included, and it takes him a minute to remember their audience.

He clears his throat, turning with an arm around Sophia and Cricket, hands clasped with Carol behind his older daughter's back. "Well, it seems we're going out of order today. But honestly, this is better than a formality of vows. I think they've said just about all there is to say, for me as a husband and me as a father. Most of you probably even forgot we hadn't done this part yet, because she's fitted so neatly into my life I didn't even know half of me was missing til it wasn't anymore."

Carol smiles, still a little weepy, and bookended by daughters who are more than happy to keep her upright. He can see Jazz behind her.

"He's right. I've spent days thinking, what words begin to express the life I've found here, that Sophia's been given here, and most of the sentiment is how I wish we found each other so much sooner.

"Perhaps it's overdone, but people make quotes about families not needing to be tied by blood, but also by choice for a reason, and that's what we certainly have here."

Cricket snags their hands apart into hers, stepping neatly back and clasping their hands back so that Honey and Sophia can gently nudge them back to each other.

Merle obliges the obvious intent by cupping Carol's face and kissing her. He pauses, not giving a damn if his voice carries. "Still want to be Mrs. Dixon and keep me and these ungodly heathens in line for as the rest of our hopefully long and family-filled lives?"

"With everything that I am. I wouldn't give up a single solitary one of any of you." She kisses him, but has the quirky smile that tells him she's about to tease. "Aren't there supposed to be rings involved in this?"

Daryl very solemnly pats his pocket opposite the one Merle knows he has the ring for Lori in, before producing the pretty, pale antler carved rings with the garnet and amethyst inlay he made at Merle's request.

When she's taken his, he lets her slide the smooth ring on his finger, feeling the weight he hasn't felt in nearly two decades settle into place. He's missed it, that sign of being half of a whole. And this woman will never, ever make him regret wearing it.

When he takes her hand, he slides the ring on as he lifts her hand to his lips. "Hello there, Mrs. Dixon."

The kiss she damn near bowls him over with is perfect.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol's not certain how she made it to a seat, but she supposes Merle's responsible for getting them to the small two-person table set up for today. She still wants to smile and cry and maybe dance too. She never expected a serenade from their entire family when those doors opened.

"You okay, darlin'?" Merle's leaning in, looking a little concerned. He produces a handkerchief from somewhere, probably Hershel, and carefully dabs at tears before kissing her.

"Just didn't expect that level of declaration."

There are plates in front of them now, courtesy of Cricket and Honey. The rest of the family is scattered in various stages of getting their meal, along with everyone else. The sight on the plate is a little out of the ordinary - sirloin steaks.

"They barbequed the pig, but figured Christmas was worth a splurge with some of the water buffalo for those wanting a little something different."

She senses more special planning, as their plates look individually prepared. It makes her feel even more loved. Roasted vegetables, one of Glynnis' specialty dinner rolls, and sautéed mushrooms. It easily looks like something from an expensive restaurant.

She loses track of time after that, being spoiled and indulged by Merle to the point her steak is about the only thing she eats herself.

"Hey, Mama."

Her attention is drawn to Jazz, who is smiling as he places a single dessert ramekin in between her and Merle.

"Sophia said you always wanted to try it, so I practiced."

She reaches for the spoon and carefully takes a portion of the crème brûlée. It's as perfect as she imagined it would be and she tells him as much before standing and hugging him close. He's nearly a foot taller, but his reaction is all happy boy as he hugs her back. "Love you, Jasper."

He returns the sentiment quietly before urging her to return to her dessert.

By the time they've finished dessert, it's like a signal has gone out to the family. They're coming by in singles and pairs, giving out hugs and congratulations. Even Shane takes the time to envelope her in a hug, and that's as rare as the embrace from Scout a minute later.

"If I could change anything about today," the younger woman says softly, "it would be that it happened many years ago. Hu guaiya hao Nåna."

She steps away, hurrying off as if she doesn't want a translation asked, but Merle's smile tells her it's a good one. "What did she say?"

"Same thing the others said. 'I love you, Mama.'"

Brides cry this much on their wedding days, right?

~*~ JD ~*~

"See, you did just fine," Jazz says softly to Sophia after their parents are seated at their small table. Two of the older girls are taking them the meal Glynnis cooked especially for them, and he's ended up with a shivering Sophia. The stage fright and high emotions of the wedding is making her crash a bit now.

He guides her to a seat next to Carl. "You want barbeque or some of the carabeef?"

"Both?"

That makes him and Carl both laugh and Sophia look a bit disgruntled, but he leaves her with Carl, knowing the younger boy will look out for her. It doesn't take him long to return with two heaping plates for both of them, although he produces a third plate and angles some of both onto his for himself.

Carl's reassuring Sophia that her song did go well, maybe even as good as Beth would have done. Jazz isn't quite sure that's true, but considering Beth's sang for years with lots of training, it's not a fair comparison yet. But Carl's good at knowing those kinds of compliments, not like Jazz himself.

He feels Sophia nudge his wrist and offers his hand. For all the times being left-handed makes his life difficult, this is one where it's nice, being able to hold her left hand in his right while they eat.

"You two are just so sweet. It makes me miss my husband, especially with the wedding today," Abuelita says from behind him. Her touch is gentle as she runs a hand across his hair. "Will you sing today, mi pechocho?"

"We are going to do Christmas carols after we eat, Lita."

"Such a sweet idea. Can you do _Noche de Paz_?"

"Of course. And _Campana Sobre Campana_."

"Don't forget _Feliz Navidad_ so everyone can sing along." She kisses his cheek and continues on her way to the buffet of food. He would offer to get her plate, but she's staunchly independent and would be offended.

"You learned a lot of Spanish songs," Carl remarks.

"They like to hear them." He doesn't have a lot of spare time, but he does try to go by and let Abuelita and her friends know what he's been up to. They've sort of adopted him since he was wounded in Atlanta.

"And everyone knows _Feliz Navidad_ already from school, as if it was the only Spanish carol ever," Sophia adds.

"Are you going to sing, too, Carl?" he asks.

The younger teen grimaces, but nods. "I never understood how you can be shy and like to sing in public too."

Jazz just shrugs. Singing is different than speaking. The words and the music are right there and don't get confused.

Patrick pops into the seat across from Jazz. "Al wants to know if we can do a marathon of the Santa Clause movies later."

"Could. Supposed to play a couple games of soccer up here after carols though."

That gets the expected grimace from Patrick. "I'll pass on that part. Haven't you noticed it's cold and wet outside?"

"No one's expecting professional play, you know. I'll pick you for my team."

"You used to play like a hundred sports. It's easy for you."

"Footwork is easier than trying to throw or catch. C'mon. Play a game and see."

"Alright. But if anything hits me in the face, I'm done."

Jazz smiles, happy with the concession. Patrick tends to be reclusive, and he doesn't want his friend slipping off to read all alone on Christmas because everyone is outdoors. The rain from earlier stopped, so maybe they'll end up muddy, but it won't be cold long if they keep moving. Maybe he's just used to the weather, after playing football, but it'll be fun.

Jazz gets tapped on the shoulder, before his sister follows that by slinging an arm across his shoulders to whisper, "They're getting close to done eating."

Prompted by that, he looks up to see where their parents are absorbed in each other, for once not looking around and checking on others. Honey steals his seat as he goes to do dessert and he reminds himself he probably will need to get a new plate.

But it's worth letting his sister steal his food for the thank you he gets from his mother for the treat. He's still wearing a smile when he returns to the table, and the lingering hug from Sophia makes it even better.

~*~ SW ~*~

"It's been a long day, hasn't it?" Shane says softly when he sees Anaya yawn and try to hide it. She's seated between Scout and Abby, with Shane across from Scout and next to Beth. He reminds himself to do something nice for both girls, who have spent the meal keeping Anaya engaged when the adults inevitably get their attention called to someone else. Like now, when Scout's over talking to Carol before the newlyweds slip off.

She nods, poking at the remnants of her meal. She's eaten everything she requested and tried two things she didn't. The kolokotes, she tried only because Jazz made them, but promptly devoured every last crumb. His young brother-in-law has a new admirer. The au gratin potatoes are just a cold lump with two bites taken.

"We can gather up some dessert and sneak off home and nap. I could use one."

"How much dessert?" She looks like she suspects there's a catch.

He grins. "Well, it's Christmas, so I think a lot of it. What's your favorites?"

"Cookies. Lemon pie. The white things that look like snowballs."

"Let's go find a carry home box and see what we can find." He stands and offers a hand, happy when she takes it without hesitation. Patricia took him aside for a few quiet words of advice, the primary of which was that Anaya might be clingy and even react younger than she is, when she feels safe. So far, he's seeing that happen, but only toward himself and Scout.

By the time they've loaded up three of the carry-out containers, one with dessert and two for a mini-supper later, Scout's back at the table. "We're going to go sleep off all this food."

She grins. "Sounds like a perfect plan."

It's getting dark outside despite the early hour, due to the overcast sky. The earlier rain stopped in time for the wedding, but it looks like it might start up again. It's probably a good thing they're heading home early.

"Oh, look. _Snow_!"

Anaya's voice holds all the awe of any Southern kid for snow, amplified. Shane can't remember ever seeing snow on Christmas Day. But she's right. It's not rain or sleet, but actual snowflakes. Anaya lets go of their hands to dash forward, mittened hands out to collect snowflakes against the dark fabric. She laughs, and it's the first time they've heard that sound from her.

Scout's smile can't get any wider, and he drags her to him for a clumsy kiss as they walk. "She's amazing, isn't she?"

His wife agrees, obviously, and they follow their little girl home as she dances among the falling snow.

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle's glad someone brought the flowing cloak Carol thought was overkill to her wedding outfit, because the cold outside the community center is bitter enough on him in shirtsleeves and waistcoat. With her arms fully exposed in that pretty dress, Carol would be an icicle by the time they got to the house.

The dark fabric gives him the first clue to the weather shift. They're melting almost as fast as they alight on the cloak, but there's no mistaking the snowflakes on Carol's shoulders.

"Hey darlin', we got snow," he says, drawing her attention to it.

She smiles and reaches out a hand to catch some of the elusive strays. "I wonder if it'll stick?"

"Cold enough to."

They've reached the deck, and the snow is coming down heavily now, enough he thinks Carol will get her wish. It's already collecting on the patio table as he opens the door into their room before turning to her with a grin.

She laughs and pulls him in for a kiss, braving the cold as the snowflakes turn her cloak to sparkly in the light from inside. He lifts her easily, stepping across the threshold and fumbling the door shut even as she peppers him with small, sweet kisses.

The room is warm, and the fireplace already lit, casting soft, flickering light across the room. It turns her pale skin golden as he tugs the cloak away. The teasing kisses turn serious, and he marvels at how bold she's become in chasing what she wants from him compared to their first night together.

"Got an idea," he suggests by the time she lets him up for air.

"I've got lots of ideas for right now."

He laughs and takes her hand, but when he leads her into the bathroom, he understands why the fire is lit. The dual-sided fireplace is the showpiece of the room with darkness beginning to fall, but it's been enhanced by at least a dozen candles flickering on surfaces near the tub.

He wonders which one of their friends or family set up the beautiful scene, and they must have barely left into the house, because the bath water is still steaming and scenting the room with the rich jasmine that Carol prefers out of all the offerings the kids have left her to try.

"Can't pass that up, now can we?" he says, kissing her bare shoulder. She shudders and nods, so he moves to her zipper. As the dress slides to the floor, he realizes she's only wearing a little wisp of silk masquerading as panties and spins her to claim a kiss.

~*~ CP ~*~

The first day Carol saw this bathroom, she suspected the big bathtub and nearby fireplace were the product of a designer allowed free reign. What she knew of Merle then didn't allow her to fully comprehend his need for quiet relaxation to reset himself after a long day. He's as likely to use the bathtub as she is, although he generally skips the bath oils and bombs in favor of hot water on a tired body and a gorgeous view out the windows.

He told her once that he usually took a glass of whiskey in with him, with that little tray she uses for bath products working fine to hold the snifter. But he's shelved alcohol as being a risk after his bout with narcotics, so she usually finds him just in a half-doze, if she's not ready to join him.

Tonight, he's got her leaned against his chest, where she's got the solid warmth of him to contrast with the steaming heat of the water.

edited scene

"Love you so damned much," he says, lips pressed to her temple.

"I love you, too."

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle draws Carol after him, enjoying the touch-and-not of their bodies as he walks backwards during the kiss. Their wedding fairy turned down the bed too, and though he glimpses some silky night thing on the chest at the end of the bed, right now he just wants the bed under his back and Carol above him.

edited scene

"Love you, Carol. Gonna make sure you know that for every day, long as I'm alive to do it."

She raises up at that, kissing gently along his jaw. "You already do that, Merle. I love you so much."

He runs his hand along her back, marveling that his hand can pretty much span her back at the waist. This woman in his arms is worth the missteps before, because now he's built to appreciate exactly how rare someone like Carol is.

~*~ CP ~*~

Merle's drifted off to sleep when Carol slides out of bed to go see if the ladies behind the room set-up left any more surprises. The mini-fridge in the television nook definitely holds more than the bottles of water and Gatorade it normally houses.

There's enough finger food in there to sustain them at least a day, so she suspects they aren't supposed to make themselves known for a while. It's still fairly early, the snowfall hurrying darkness along. The deck is blanketed in at least an inch of snow.

There hasn't been snow in Georgia on Christmas Day in her entire lifetime.

The world being softened by white seems a blessing on their marriage.

She looks back to the man in the bed and remembers how wary of him she used to be. All his noise and explosive temper toward anything he viewed as stupidity at the quarry was intimidating.

She's glad his family returned, and not just because she loves them all as her own. What would life be like for anyone if this gruff, loving man had been truly left to die on that roof?

He stirs when she climbs back in bed, kissing her sleepily before he settles her against him.

"Where'd you go?"

"Wanted something to drink. Saw all the snow."

He raises up to where he can see the deck through the French doors. "Isn't that just a damned surprise? Snow's sticking around."

She reaches out and strokes his bare shoulder. When he looks back at her, she leans in for a kiss and tugs him back down.

This is a man whose temper she'll never fear, not because the temper isn't there, but because she knows he'll never unleash it on her, only to defend her.

The ring on her finger used to feel like a jail sentence.

Now it feels like what it's supposed to - a promise of forever.


	52. Christmas, Part 5

**December 25, 2010**

~*~ Oscar ~*~

Oscar can't help humming along with the Christmas carols. The news that snow is falling - and sticking - delayed the caroling while people gawked, but he's not surprised that few people left. What started out as mainly the teenagers singing carols for the elderly expanded into a few adults on instruments to add to the vocals and Jazz Dixon's guitar.

His younger boy and niece even joined in, although Anthony seems disinclined to participate.

"They act like there's nothing wrong outside," Anthony grumbles when he asks. "They have classes and chores and even were gonna play soccer if the snow didn't start."

"What would you prefer? Them sit around scared all the time?" he asks. He meets Nichelle's eyes over the boy's head and she looks puzzled as well. They weren't exactly living amid a swarm of the dead like the prison was, but the little safe haven his brother managed did leave them exposed to the general reality of the world.

Robert didn't even hesitate to take the offer to come to Homestead. Aside from having a passing knowledge of Merle Dixon from working in the same field, his brother acknowledged a larger group is simply safer.

"We should all be out there taking the dead bastards down."

"Even the kids like your brother?"

"No, not Zaire. But half the kids here are plenty old enough to be out there."

"Even adding in the kids you mention, that's maybe four more teams above what goes out already. They kill everything they find. It's why you don't see dead on the fences here, because they're always clearing them out before they make it here."

He remembers enough of his military days to understand that map grid they use for clearing areas. There's a definite method to what they do.

"And what everyone does here is just as important. You wouldn't get very far killing walkers if you were naked and hungry with no safe place to sleep."

Oscar stiffens a little hearing Honey Dixon's voice behind him, but when he turns, she's smiling. Other than Merle, she's the Dixon he's most familiar with, since she works about half the time with the building crew he and Robert joined. She's also the person who trained Tiny and Axel to shoot, and both men came back a little in awe from their lessons.

She slides into the vacant seat across from Anthony, looking as solemn as he's ever seen her. "If that's your goal, working outside the walls, then my advice is that you need to step up your game in training. Not this half-ass effort I've seen you give so far.

You gotta qualify on weapons, self-defense, and PT. You gotta learn to drive if you don't already. And your parents have to give the okay. It's a lot of work and a lot of commitment and you're going to be probably six months before you go out on a team that's clearing dead."

Oscar honestly expects his son to take offense at getting told off by a girl not that much older. But he looks to his parents instead.

"Would you give permission?"

He suspects Nichelle wants to say no. He remembers she wasn't protected from the chaos of the world falling when he sees her nod reluctantly. He gives his permission as well.

The young woman studies Anthony for a minute. "Show me you're serious by showing up to run with the teen group every morning at six for a week, get a better report in on your chore shifts than 'sullen but works', and I'll take you to the range and start teaching you to shoot on Saturday. Deal?" She offers her hand.

Anthony takes it, still looking a little disbelieving.

"Good choice, dude."

"Miss Dixon?" Nichelle asks.

"Might be best to stick to Honey, or Hannah if you need the formality. Lotta Dixons here even with my sister getting married."

Nichelle smiles. "If it's not rude to ask, how old are you exactly? You do a lot of the weapons training."

"I turned eighteen back in July. I do most of the beginner firearms and archery training here because I was certifying for them before the world fell. I fill in for the PT sessions sometimes, but I leave the martial arts and close combat classes for others. I'm still learning there."

"And your brother?"

"I assume you mean Jazz?" At the nod, Honey shrugs. "Fifteen in August. He's certified to teach archery, but he doesn't usually have the time."

She follows Nichelle's line of sight and sighs when she sees her brother holding hands with the tiny blonde. "Gonna tell you the same thing I tell all the newbies about those two. They're both kids and she's the pushy one of the pair, not him. Keep an eye on it if you like, but just because he looks grown doesn't mean he is." She flashes an impish smile. "And they've been sweet on each other longer than our parents have been together."

"Old world reactions, but more because a boy of color with a white girl, that doesn't go well in Georgia much."

"Guess we've lucked out that those prejudices can be chucked out the window now, right? No one to criticize him for not being light or dark enough to fit in."

"What are you, anyway?" Anthony asks, and before Nichelle or Oscar can reprimand him, she laughs.

"Guess that depends. Mostly Georgia redneck." But then she has pity and fills in the blanks, because Oscar admits to being curious himself. "You familiar with people from the Pacific Islands, like Samoa or Guam?"

"Like The Rock. His mom's family from Samoa, right?"

"Yeah, exactly. That makes him half Pacific Islander. My birth mother's from Guam, and people there are Chamorro, also Pacific Islanders. I was actually supposed to spend part of the summer there with my grandparents this year, before I started college." She gets that complex expression most people get about the fate of relatives that can't be determined. "I'm hoping being an island with a good-sized military base, my family there survived this better than the mainland."

"At least there would be a limit to the herds there, right?" Oscar says, trying to reassure her. Fatherly instinct, he guesses. Guam's so damn far away, they'll probably never know.

"Yeah, I hope so. If they have the same percentage of immune folks, it'd be a safer place than most of us have." She shakes her head, making the jewelry in her braided hair clink, and he hears bells jingle. "Enough of sadness. It's Christmas. Come sing a carol or three, Anthony. Show me Zaire's not the only singer in the family."

Oscar's not a bit surprised when Anthony can't turn down the challenge and follows the young woman away. He exchanges an amused look with Nichelle.

"Want to play a game while they sing?" she asks.

It took the end of the world for them to bury the hatchet of their unhappy divorce, so that sounds like a real good plan.

~*~ Axel ~*~

Axel finishes the last of the dishes and hangs up the towel while the two teenagers assigned to help dash off to whatever evening plans they have. They were entertaining, neither seeming to bat an eye at working alongside him. None of the teens on the shifts he's worked have been anything other than respectful, though.

"You're looking mighty pensive for a man finished with dishes and free for the evening."

He turns and smiles at Katherine. It's the first time he's worked the supper shift and thus come into the secondary cooking manager's realm. His other kitchen shifts have been with Glynnis, and that lady is definitely a hoot to work for.

Katherine's younger than Glynnis by a decade or more, having reached that stage Axel's mama called 'handsome' rather than pretty.

"Just at loose ends, I suppose. Not a lot to Christmas for a man like me." It's why he volunteered to work the shift. His life's been regulated a long time, and with no real family to speak of, holidays don't mean much.

Even the carolers have cleared out, helping the elderly back to their building with a lot of happy noise.

"There's a movie tonight, same Saturday schedule as usual. Think it's _Ice Age_ tonight."

Even with it being a kid's movie, he thinks he prefers it to going back to the RV just yet. He knows Tiny will stay, because the big guy loves funny animated movies, and Oscar's actually involved in a family game of Scrabble with most of the folks they retrieved from Ellijay. Only the kids are missing, and he's pretty sure he saw the teen boys leave when the bulk of the Dixon kids and cousins, or whatever the extra kids are, left.

"Or you could stop admiring Angela from afar and ask the woman to take a walk. I remember from my more impressionable days that women find snowy walks a bit romantic."

He startles, not realizing his interest is that obvious. He's exchanged words with the lady in question, several times, as he fetches supper. But remembering what happened to many of the ladies here, he's kept to his promise to himself not to cross any boundaries.

"I wouldn't want to assume..."

She interrupts him, placing a hand on his forearm. "You're already doing the right thing by being polite and calm around these ladies, Axel. But what happened to us at Grady doesn't define who we are, no more than finding you at the prison defines who you are. She's well enough to be looking and interested. Go get to know her."

He reminds himself that Katherine was in Grady too, so she's better equipped to know than he is, so he thanks her politely and considers exactly how to approach that doesn't sound like a dumb redneck pickup line. This isn't a barfly on Saturday night.

Deciding to bite the bullet and hoping what comes out of his mouth doesn't get his ass kicked, he makes his way to where Angela's helping set up the softer camp chairs used for movies.

She looks up, and her smile is the first indication that Katherine is not imagining things. He's been turned down enough to know when there's no interest at all.

"I know there's a movie tonight, but it was suggested to me that ladies find snowy walks romantic." Well, shit. Just tell the woman someone else put the idea in his head.

Shockingly, it works. "I've heard that before, but we don't get snow in Georgia often enough for me to have tried it." She bids the woman she's helping farewell and leads the way to the coat hooks. He even remembers he's supposed to offer to help her with her coat. Movies do have some basis for the manners they show on the unrealistic dates, he supposes, because she flashes him another smile, one that reaches her dark eyes. Once he's also clad for the weather, they step outside.

The moon hasn't risen yet, and it's dark enough that the exterior lighting is needed without the moon up yet. In a couple of hours, it'll be bright enough to walk without artificial light, just a few days past the full moon, but for now, there's an interesting combination of light and shadow and snow that makes everything look a bit like something out of a fairy tale book.

Since assisting with her coat seemed to work out, he opts for another of those movie ideas and offers her his arm. She takes it and lets him guide them on a rambling walk among the areas that do have lighting, boots crunching in the snow. Conversation is light and simple, and she shows more interest than upset when he's honest with her about his less than stellar past. By the time it's getting cold enough to consider going back indoors, she's even leaning against him a little.

He's thinking he should have believed those damned movies a long time ago.

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane hangs his things up when he tromps back into the cabin, letting the warmth of the cabin seep into him for a moment before unlacing his boots to keep from tracking snow further in. It's not yet beyond most bedtimes, so he made the executive decision to have the watch put out the alert that tomorrow's runs are cancelled. Snow's still falling and he measured about three inches already on one of the railings outside.

Without any road crews to help clear the way, he sees no reason to risk vehicles and people on runs tomorrow, even if many of the smaller vehicles can handle the snow. He doesn't want to be learning how to pull loaded semis out of ditches after seeing enough of that as a cop when wreckers were summoned to retrieve trucks who slid off in the rain.

The side benefit is that he and Scout get another day with Anaya before they make a run, maybe more if the snow stays.

That thought leads him to check on the little girl. She's sound asleep, curled up with her back to the wall and the comforter kicked to the floor. She's got two of the four sock monkeys Carol gave her tucked under one arm, and the smallest - meant to represent the unborn baby - is sitting on one of the recessed shelves in the bunk, so he looks for an escapee and finds the little camo clad monkey tangled in the comforter. He figures the light blankets aren't enough for the night, even though they've got decent heating, so he picks it back up and tucks it around her. She shows the hyper-awareness so many of them have now, but upon recognizing him, she lets herself be soothed back to sleep after taking the offered Marine sock monkey and tucking it back with the two dressed as a cop and a wild-haired little girl.

Her room is a little more populated now, thanks to the attic box Honey gathered up and the amazing number of gifts that appeared as if by magic despite less than an hour's warning the family expanded. The Christmas gifts were handled with surprising care as she put them away, even making him fetch a hammer to hang the chibi art drawing from Sophia. Convincing her the necklace was safer in the small jewelry box than around her neck while sleeping was almost an impossible task until Scout showed her the name on the bottom of the box where she practiced her calligraphy to make the little box for her younger sister. Anaya handled the attic kept items with a serious sort of reverence, seeming happier with the well-loved items from various Dixon childhoods than the couple of newer things his sister-in-law tucked in there.

The feeling that settles in his chest as how easily she drifted back off with his hand rubbing her back is almost painful it's so strong. He remembers the first time he felt like this, when Carl clung to him in the days after they fled home for the reputed safety of Atlanta. Despite the restored relationships and the fact that he spends as much time with Carl as either of his official and unofficial fathers, he still feels an echo of the painful days when he wasn't allowed access to the boy he loves as his own. He hopes it's something he never experiences with Anaya.

"It's hard to leave her be, isn't it?" Scout says softly from the doorway.

He smiles at his wife and eases off the bunk to join her. They leave the door open and their own ajar.

She gives him a long, lingering kiss before padding back to bed. It's going to take a little adjustment, seeing her in pajamas, but considering her idea of pajamas involves stealing one of his old T-shirts and a pair of Spiderman boxer shorts he got as a joke Christmas gift, he thinks he can manage. He's glad he never tossed gifts of pajama pants in the past and blesses Lori's inability to think outside the box for his previous Christmas presents as he sheds his clothes and pulls on a pair of the softest flannel bottoms he's ever worn. He'll miss sleeping skin-to-skin with Scout, but having Anaya now is more important than that little habit.

There's a reminder of the new parenthood on his bedside table, next to the frame that holds the ultrasound pictures. Anaya participated in the school projects to make presents for parents or loved ones, and it seems that she held out hope it would be _them_ specifically that she went to live with. There's no mistaking that the memory book she gave him was intended for him, with the police themed stickers pressed on the inside front cover and the gold lettering on blue canvas cover. The outside has an open space that's supposed to have their hand prints, hers superimposed over his, but the lettering already stenciled on indicates he doesn't think he'll be 'Shane' very long with the girl.

He reaches for the book and the gel pen that came with it, remembering he has 'homework' tonight.

The question she's listed are easy ones, a child's way of getting to know a new family member: birthdate, favorite food, hobbies. He answers them easily, remembering little questionnaires like this that Carl did over the years. He likes the idea of the bound book that can be an ongoing 'conversation' much better though.

Scout leans over to read his answers and laughs. "That really your favorite movie or the PG version for Anaya?"

He pretends to be offended, but can't keep it up and laughs. "_Turner and Hooch_ is one of my favorites. Sure not going to watch _The Departed_ with her for a few years."

"What are you going to ask her for your turn?"

He flips the page to a blank one and considers. "Even the simple questions could trigger something, couldn't they?"

She nods. "The weirdest shit set me off for years after what happened to me. I remember having a meltdown when I caught _Home Alone_ on TV once, and that was two years after she was gone. Best bet is to just ask what you would ask if she were any other kid. Then we deal with things as they come."

He ends up mirroring her questions for the most part, especially since those are things they want to know, but adds an extra he remembers from a silly conversation with Carl when the kid was younger. He sets the book aside to return to Anaya in the morning and slides down in bed to half-snooze while Scout finishes off a chapter in the book she's reading.

Lying in bed, they kiss, little teasing brushes of skin not intended to go anywhere but sharing space and affection together. He runs his fingers across her visible scars, thinking of how different her last Christmas would have been. He wonders if she even healed enough for her family to hold her by then. Some of the things Daryl told him, one night when they both drank a little more than they should after Grady, those first six weeks were the stuff of nightmares.

"Looking at her in there, I think I really understand how crazy your daddy was back in the quarry now," he ventures. "We haven't had her a full day and I'd lose my damn mind if she disappeared for even a few hours, and he had five of you missing for months."

"Just consider it an irony that she's less likely to give us a scare than the average kid. I don't see her being willing to wander off even on property for a while."

He thinks of how she wanted them both in there for her bedtime story. Scout stretched out on the bunk next to her, reading the first book out of a series that came in the box Honey gave them. Shane just settled in at their feet, smiling as Anaya wriggled her bare feet against his hip and listened to a tale about a warrior mouse and a squirrel maid with contentment. She fell asleep after two chapters, but they stayed to guard her sleep a while.

"Maybe tomorrow we can make snowmen. Keeps going like it is, may have enough for serious snowmen in the morning."

"Boys versus girls snowball fight."

"Hey, that better include more than just the three of us, because otherwise that sounds like ganging up on me."

It earns him a laughing kiss. "I figured on rounding up as many people who want to get crazy. That whole area behind the house, up to the pastures? Lots of fun to be had there. The year I graduated high school, we nearly ended up with frostbite in our snowball war."

He starts to answer, ends up in a yawn that cramps his damn jaw, and a laughing wife who at least kisses the offending cramped muscle once it eases. He rolls to his side, letting her tuck in behind him like she prefers, and falls asleep to her fingers sliding absently through his curls.

~*~ TC ~*~

Tara now has an immense level of sympathy for every couple who ever resorted to conception not of the hot and sweaty variety. She suspects the clinical nature is easier for Cricket, who set it in her mind years ago how it would happen for her. Her partner's lying in bed, actually reading a book, her hips canted upward on the pillows underneath her the only sign it's not just any other night for them. The part that is really ironic is that a cervical cap normally used to _prevent_ conception is now being used as extra insurance to _encourage_ conception.

"Chrissy? Is there anything else you need?"

The hesitance in her voice makes Chris look up and she smiles reassuringly as she marks her place and puts the book aside. "C'mere."

Once Tara joins her in the bed, Chris nuzzles at her jawline, kissing just the right spot to make Tara's body perk up with interest. Her hesitation must be obvious though, because Chris pulls back.

"What's wrong?"

"I just didn't want to upset any chances. Aren't you supposed to lie still for a while?" She tries to remember the steps Chris went over, back when she first started charting, and wishes she asked for a refresher other than the basics tonight. Her mind's blanking now, and the main thing that comes to mind is that they have two weeks of not knowing if this is going to be successful.

"Even the medical clinics will advise that orgasms aid in conception, although that's sure as hell not something I'd want to pull off in a medical setting. Can't imagine how guys manage what they have to do."

"Probably not the weirdest place a guy's ever tossed one off, considering some of the arrests for public indecency I know about. Or tonight." Tara glances toward their bathroom and grimaces.

Chris laughs. "I imagine it was equally as weird for him. And we get to repeat the experience in two nights," she teases. "So, perhaps you should up our chances that maybe we do this fewer times rather than many?"

Trusting that Chris is well-educated in the process, she tosses caution to the wind and claims Chris' lips for a kiss with serious intent and decides to take the orgasms help conception as a _challenge_.

~*~ Big Tiny ~*~

Big Tiny spends the majority of the evening around other people, because it's Christmas and he misses his mama and moms so much it hurts to damn breathe. The people here are smart about so many residents having lost people though, because until bedtime, there's no reason to be alone.

It's sure as hell a better Christmas than he had last year, only seeing his mothers for about three hours because it got crowded and they left early at the guards' request. Being on the other side of the state made in-person visits rare, but his mothers wanted him in the program there so he never applied for a closer unit when his time inside allowed. The video visits were usually too unreliable, so they usually managed phone calls. He's glad that last phone call happened when it did, even if he only got to talk to one mother because the other was hospitalized.

Oscar's with his family, and while he knows he's welcome even by the ones new to Oscar, it's just not the same. And Axel left earlier with the pretty little brunette from the supper crew and didn't come back after. Lady was smiling when they left, so he guesses the redneck's got a new lady friend.

Nice part about this place is that no one cares if he spends as much time among the animals as he does among people, so instead of going home when folks start to retire for the night, he's in the warm barn, talking softly to the horses and the other mama animals, brushing coats and manes as he goes. The animals enjoy the attention, and he's collected a small pack of the various dogs who usually slip into the barn via a doggy door at night to sleep if they aren't patrolling on whatever instinct or training makes them know their jobs here.

He hums some of the Christmas carols softly when he makes it to Moonshine's stall. The black horse nudges at him happily. The Dixon kids tell him she's been here with them a long time, and he thinks they named her wrong. Moonshine seems like she should be mischievous and energetic. Instead, she's one of the sweetest animals he's ever met, with a patient air to her that makes him feel at peace just looking at her. The feeling reminds him a bit of when he was a kid and used to sit in church between his mothers.

She's a smart one too, because she seems to know he isn't feeling that peace tonight. She hooks her big head on his shoulder, leaning against him just as if she's a person giving him a hug. So, he wraps his arms around her and just leans into her strength she's offering him to supplement where his own is failing him tonight.

~*~ GR ~*~

"You know, out of all my guesses to where your dad was last night, Lenore wasn't on the list. Feel kinda stupid about it though, because it's kind of a perfect fit if you think about it," Glenn tells Maggie.

"I imagine they'll never have a lack of things to talk about. Beth couldn't make up her mind to be happy because she likes Lenore or weirded out because Lenore more or less raised Gage." Maggie's stretched out beside him, yawning. Tomorrow's supply runs are cancelled, while they weren't scheduled for a run anyway. Tomorrow's their Homestead workday, and Maggie and Tara drew the breakfast shift. The snow won't curtail his and Tim's laundry duty either. Apparently, freeze drying clothes is a good thing. The first time he saw one of the helper teens and another teen passing by having 'sword fights' with frozen socks made him laugh his ass off.

"I guess not. And she'll get over being weirded out if she really likes Gage." He traces a line down her arm, loving the contrast between her pale skin and his darker complexion as he always does. "You ever worry we spend too much time together, being on the same team?"

It's something he's curious about, since with the exception of the gay couple from the Guardsmen, all the other couples where both are supply runners serve on separate teams. When the two leaders of the Grady cops finally moved in together, Gil Licari swapped teams with one of the other Grady cops, moving from Amanda Shepherd's leadership to Karen's. Maybe it's a cop thing, because he's never been sure if Scout and Shane lead different teams to share out their experience or for some outdated reason cops use of not partnering with a significant other.

"Not really. I might, if we didn't spend any time apart at all, but considering I keep getting borrowed to the vet staff at least once a week, we're really only doing three days of runs together anyway. Might end up being less depending on how easy all those lambs come into the world next month."

That is true. With Patricia unable to help with some of the heavier veterinary tasks, Maggie does get conscripted when Hershel needs an extra set of hands beyond his two apprentices.

"I guess I just don't want us to get bored with each other." Because despite their engagement and attempts at parenthood, he's been with Maggie less than six months, and six months always seemed to be the turning point where his previous girlfriends decided he wasn't interesting enough.

She raises up to an elbow, more alert than he expected this late at night. "Glenn? That's just not possible. Figuring out how your mind spins things outside the box is going to take me at least twenty years to sort out. It's addictive, too."

He doesn't think anyone's ever considered him addictive, especially in relation to how his mind works. "God, I love you, Maggie."

"I love you, too. Quit worrying about whatever your old life taught you to expect and put that tricky brain of yours to better use." As if he might miss the implication, she snags his hand and slides it under her shirt.

Never say he can't take a hint.

~*~ EP ~*~

Honey's fallen asleep using him as a pillow again, and Eugene is starting to wish his cowardice didn't win out tonight over following Abraham's advice. He can wake her to stumble off home, but despite the fact that the snow means she's probably not going to have a full work shift tomorrow, he doesn't like to interrupt her sleep.

It gives him time to think, ignoring the background noise of the television, because this isn't the first night this week she's slept in his bed. It's all been very innocent, falling asleep on television nights here and there since Terminus, usually on a night where her day's work pushed her especially hard. The nights she's spent here mean he's become an expert at platonic bedsharing too, because while he's pretty sure she'll forgive any morning 'mishaps' on waking up, it just wasn't something he wanted to experience with her. He's even collected a comforter he deems hers, because it's only on the bed when she falls asleep atop the blankets he ends up sleeping under.

But now Abraham's words make him face the reason he sees her as different than other women he's known.

Is the fact that she's spending less time with her paramours a sign?

For all of his lusting after Rosita, he knew the woman would never consider a man like him when she had someone like Abraham along. He's overweight, plain of feature, and well aware that ninety percent of his sexual encounters were because a woman simply didn't want to spend a night alone while in between relationships with men she felt were more masculine or desirable.

He's had more tactile contact since arriving at Homestead than he had in the last two years, and that's if he includes the fact that Rosita really is his friend and open to touch and hug him.

It's a moot point for tonight, he supposes, since she's asleep. He eases out from under her and positions the pillow carefully under her head. It takes him longer to carefully unbraid her hair, knowing she won't want the pieces she calls 'braid bling' left in to sleep. One by one, he gets all the braid rings, with their little Christmasy charms, into a tea mug so none of them get lost. Her weapons are already on the counter by the sink with the thigh holster she prefers, and her boots always come off about five seconds after she's inside.

Once he slips the comforter over her that's taken up residence on his recliner these days, he changes for bed and notices for the first time that he's actually got to cinch up the pajama pants he was given when he first got here.

Huh. She kept her promise to work with him without an audience, even though he knows she has many demands on her time. He still can't run a mile without stopping, but her happy chatter and ability to listen to him expound on any topic means the half-an-hour he manages now as a half walk, half jog is passed quickly. It's worth stumbling along before supper every other night, and he's putting in a good effort on the two nights of PT. She made him promise not to go to the infirmary to weigh himself for at least a month, because as she intones, converting fat to muscle means he won't actually lose much weight at first.

It makes him take his belt off the towel rack and try it back on over the pajama pants, wondering just how distracted he's been for the last two weeks that he's managed to get his belt cinched two holes tighter and not realized it.

He puts the belt back and reminds himself to check again in the morning, with jeans on, before he gets his hopes up.

He switches off the television on his way to bed, which sends the apartment into near darkness lit only by the dim night light in the bathroom. Once in bed, under the side of blankets left to him, he listens to her soft breathing at his back and lets himself daydream of not needing Abraham's offer of a drink-to-forget night.

~*~ AF ~*~

"You don't have to go wandering off in the snow, you know."

Abraham pauses at her words, feeling the soft texture of the rug by her bed under his feet. Being invited to her place for the night was surprising enough. He didn't want to assume it was an all-night invitation.

"You sure about that?" he asks, looking back to where she's relaxed on the bed, hair spilling across the pillow and sheet wantonly only to her hips. His body likes the idea of staying just fine.

"Pretty sure I'm happy for a repeat in the morning, since I don't have to be up to head out and freeze my ass off for the day with Shane canceling the runs."

It's his day off anyway, so he nods. "Gotta hit the head though."

She shrugs and rolls to her belly, arms around her pillow as if she's going to sleep now that him going or staying is settled. That damn sheet is still just enticingly only to her waist.

He takes a leak, washing his hands, and looking for a cloth to dampen to clean a bit of the sweat off his skin. Snagging two off the little wire rack mounted on the wall reveals a few odds and ends of personal care items, including one he really should have conversed with her about at least an hour ago. The sight of the familiar little dial pack of birth control at least tells him he probably didn't screw that up for her, in thinking with his dick and not his brain. It's a damned miracle Rosita was one of those plan-ahead women with an IUD, because he certainly never thought about the risk they took, fucking like rabbits across four states.

Once he's run a wet wash cloth across his skin, he dampens the other and pads back to the bed.

The courtesy of running it across her skin gets him a considering look and a sleepy promise of making the unexpected attention worth his while in the morning.

He just laughs and chucks the cloth to land on the edge of her hamper and tucks himself into bed next to her. There's no space between them in the full-sized bed, but he finds he doesn't really mind.

Rosita being in love with him was a problem because he liked her enough to not lead her on. But he sure as hell missed a warm woman next to him at night as he falls asleep.


	53. Year's End, Part 1

**December 31, 2010**

~*~ JD ~*~

"Behind you," Jazz calls out as he slips behind the two women working at the counter tops. It's one of his two nights working on the supper crew, and Fridays are his favorite shift because his mother works too. All the staff is a substitute tonight, since Fridays one of the off nights for the regular crew. Ironically, it makes him one of the most experienced, since the four subs are from supply run teams and those rotate enough that they don't work the kitchen every week.

It means that he doesn't do dishes tonight, which is always a plus. Learning to cook was just a fun hobby before. Now it's a 'get out of dishes' card.

He measures rice and lentils between the three rice cookers and adds water. Tonight's New Year's Eve and they're doing an Indian and Asian themed meal, partly for something different and partly because they have a lot of shelf-stable tofu and canned shrimp that are nearing best by dates and no one wants to really push limits on proteins or eat what ends up tasting like bland mush. Tofu they can potentially have again, when the soybean harvest comes around, and shrimp's just a few hours away on the coast, but some of tonight's ingredients are ones he'll miss eventually - like coconut.

He also knows there will carabeef stew and biscuits for those not adventurous enough for the other foods, but his mother already has that cooking away.

Rice taken care of, he touches Carol on the shoulder. "You want me on dumplings or curry, Mama?"

Carol tilts her head, assessing their help for the night, all former cops of some sort, and only two with any real skill in the kitchen. Rachel and Brian are rolling out dumpling wrappers and Leslie and Gil are chopping vegetables brought up from the big root cellars put in on the Eldridge farm. "How about you start the curries and I'll keep an eye on this dumpling crew. They've already finished the veggies for the curries."

Sophia comes thumping in, apologizing for being an hour late to shift, but Carol waves it off because she went out with Daryl's crews today running trot-lines and fishing on one of the lakes. Supply runs can be unpredictable on return times. "Help Jazz."

She washes up and comes to nudge him. "What do you want me to do?"

He glances at the large quantity recipe measurements and hands her the sheet for the one she likes best. Cooking's not really her favorite thing, but she's methodical enough to follow a recipe sheet religiously. Once those are simmering, they'll start two more. "You work on that while I do the dahl. Fishing go well?"

"Yeah, they're gonna be out there cleaning a while. Uncle Daryl says the catfish get ornery hungry in the winter." She studies the sheets carefully. "Oooh, aloo saag, yum! You gonna make naan too?"

"Did the dough earlier this afternoon after Beth and I got back from doing rounds with Hershel, so, yeah." Hershel does vet checks on the animals every Friday, alternating between the two properties on which property is done each week. Today, they took one of the trucks over and herded in the fallow does for ultrasounds to confirm pregnancies. He'll never get over the fun in getting to use the equipment to check on pregnant animals. They're going to double their herd size in early summer, although they don't plan on eating any of the females that get produced, so it could be a couple of years before they really add to the food stocks.

Once they've got all four pots simmering, they join in the dumpling making while Carol moves down to a free spot on the counter to make up biscuits. Out of habit, Jazz checks the time and sees they're probably going to finish earlier than the usual seven the meal officially starts at. The community center is rarely empty, even now that it's not a classroom half the day. It's one of the reasons he likes the kitchen shifts, because it's one of the few things he does that has a lot of people around. The interactions are always fun to watch, and no one thinks him odd for not participating in whatever's going on since he's on-duty.

Anaya decides him being at the counter makes him fair game to observe. She's been sitting by herself in the dining area, coloring for the most part, eyeing the other children present with occasional brooding glares. Considering his mother had her in a time-out when he arrived for an argument with one of the other kids that ended in Anaya shoving the kid on his backside, he's not surprised about the ongoing divide between her and the group of kids.

She's just tall enough to watch and he has an idea. "Want to help make dumplings?"

She nods, so he wipes his hands off on a dish towel and goes to retrieve one of the small plastic step stools the shorter ladies use for the upper shelves and plops it next to him. Luckily, her hair's pulled up in an intricate braid, because hers is long enough to get in the way, unlike Sophia's. "Go wash your hands, then hop up."

While she's doing that, he moves the ingredient bowl and dumpling wrappers in between his work area and hers. She hops up and gives him an expectant look. "What kind of dumplings? This isn't like chicken and dumplings."

"No, this is more like what you'd see at a Chinese restaurant," he explains. "You ever eat at those?" It sounds like a silly question to ask, but some families just aren't very adventurous at all. He had classmates who never tried Asian foods of any type.

She shakes her head. "We didn't eat out much."

He files away that clue, just like all the others the family has about her. Al thinks maybe she was a foster kid, which would really explain how she was found alone. Al and Jimmy both got 'forgotten' by foster parents that Jazz hopes ended up in one of the walker herds. He's not terribly picky if it's as a walker or in the belly of one, to leave kids behind, teenagers or not.

"Well, you've had my kolokotes and the hand pies, right?"

"I like the kolokotes. They make squash taste good."

He smiles at her, happy with the compliment. "These are similar, except we won't bake the dumplings, we'll boil them. Just take one of the dumpling wrappers and put it in front of you." He demonstrates and she carefully lifts her own little bit of pastry into place. "Then put a tablespoon - that's pretty much a heaping spoonful of this spoon - of the filling in the middle. Then fold it over like you've seen the kolokotes and pinch it all closed."

She follows his instructions carefully. Her first try isn't the prettiest dumpling ever, but it's the taste that counts, not the looks.

"What's in the bowl?" She peers in, taking a sniff to see if there are any clues that way.

"This one has chopped shrimp and water chestnuts, plus spices, from our canned goods. And there's also a little cabbage shredded in there that the others cut up earlier."

"Sophia's is different?"

"Yeah. Hers are mushroom and butternut squash. Karen's making a pork dumpling, and Gil's are fish and chive. At supper, you should try one of each type to see what you like best, but be sure to tell Shane you helped make the shrimp ones. He likes shrimp."

"And which one does Scout like best?"

"The pork ones."

Anaya eyes Karen's bowl, but doesn't defect from helping him. He does his best not to smile.

The kitchen timer beeps. "I gotta go check on that, so I'm leaving you in charge of the shrimp dumplings, alright?"

She nods solemnly and by the time he's moved the first two curries to the buffet table, she's actually managed over a dozen dumplings. She's also attracted an audience of several other kids in her age range. He knows Molly and Luke from the trip here, but he only knows the other two as part of the Grady group of kids and can't remember their names. Neither of the two unknown boys are the ones Anaya fought with earlier and she looks more warily curious than upset by them watching.

"Can we help too?" Molly asks. And since he's never been good at resisting puppy dog eyes, he looks to the other dumpling makers, who just grin.

"Alright. Go wash your hands."

While they tromp over to the hand washing sink, he borrows some of the chairs from the one table that isn't a cafeteria table and sets them up on the dining area side of the counter.

Tonight's dumplings might be sloppier than normal, but the four extra helpers make the work go fast. The million questions they ask about recipes and cooking make the time go by quickly too. He's dismissed his mini-helpers and accepted hugs from Anaya, Molly, and Luke and is actually cooking the dumplings with Sophia when Carol stops by and cups his face in her hands. He leans down to let her kiss his forehead.

"You are a sweetheart, Jasper Benjamin. Don't ever change that."

She wanders off before he can reply and he looks to Sophia, puzzled. "She means being nice to the kids," she explains. "Especially Anaya. Look."

"Anaya's my niece," he says, since singling out a family member as if he's done something special doesn't lessen his confusion. He glances over his shoulder as he skims the first dumpling out of the water as it floats and sees Anaya is sitting between Molly and Luke. The two Grady kids are sitting opposite, and they've got a deck of Uno cards that Molly is clumsily shuffling out.

The other group of kids are eyeing the game, but based on the absolute _glare_ Molly is leveling their way, he suspects his mother will be disrupting a larger fight if they approach. Whatever's going on, Anaya's got someone on her side now.

It'll get sorted out, but he reminds himself to ask Molly later.

~*~ DD ~*~

Lori's actually in the cabin when Daryl enters, leaving his boots in the plastic tub by the door. He's cleaned them as best he can for now, but there's no way they're ever going to be clean enough to walk through Lori's domain after a day on the lake. He's baited and caught and cleaned fish so much today he's glad it's all being put away and not immediately served for supper tonight, because he thinks he might beg off eating if it was.

She smiles at him, dark eyes lighting up as she looks up at him, and he leans in carefully for a kiss. He can't imagine he smells like anything other than a fish market at the moment. She does wrinkle her nose a little, but doesn't pull away from the affectionate gesture either.

"Asskicker giving you trouble?"

She shakes her head. "She's been relatively quiet today. Saving her energy for a night time tap dance. But Abby's not feeling well, so she's napping."

"She okay?" The immediate concern is just a part of his nature.

"Running a fever. I took her to see Cricket, who says she's got an ear infection. She gave me some antibiotics and then Abby just wanted to sleep after those and Tylenol."

"A'right. I'll look in on her on my way to the shower. Carl went to the men's washroom down in the Village. Think he was anxious to meet up with Audrey." Because of different needs to shower quickly, most of the group washrooms have generic clothes available, but Carl had a backpack in the truck, so he thinks the teen planned ahead for knowing they'd come back in desperate need of soap and hot water.

"That'll never get less weird, my little boy old enough to be having a girlfriend."

He shrugs. He's just glad the boy's not mooning after Sophia still, and he knows Lori is, too. "Least he picked a really sweet one?"

"There is that." She smiles and holds out a hand for him to help her up, after laying her mending aside. It flashes the ring on her left hand, a sight he's not sure he'll tire of anytime soon. Granted, he knew a yes was almost guaranteed, but she could have decided they didn't need to be officially married at all. "I'll scrub your back, since Abby's sleeping."

That's certainly not an offer he'll ever turn down.

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane sits down next to Anaya, since Scout's already sitting on her other side. The girl leans over to inspect his plate, seeming to be counting the dumplings.

"Did you get the shrimp ones?" she asks at last.

"Yeah, two shrimp and two mushroom."

She actually smiles at that. "I helped make the shrimp ones, with Jazz. He said they would be your favorite."

"They are, yeah. Used to go to shrimping with my dad, when I was little." It's one of the few really good memories of time with his dad, because his old man would actually manage to stay sober for the weekend trips. Tom Walsh actually grew up on the Atlantic coast, only moving inland as an older teenager when his mother inherited her parents' house in King County.

"You've seen the ocean?" she asks.

"A few times. Even swam in it. Want to know something even more interesting than me visiting the ocean?"

She perks up. "What?"

"Scout was born on an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean."

"Really?" She looks to Scout, obviously intrigued. "Like Hawaii?"

"Yeah, really. And sort of like Hawaii, but further away. You actually fly through Hawaii to get there."

"Why would you ever move away from the ocean?"

His wife laughs. "I was really little when we left Guam. My dad was in the Marines and they sent us to live somewhere else. So, I went from an island to the desert in California. Then we lived in North Carolina after that, and that was near the ocean again, but we moved back to Georgia after he wasn't in the military anymore because this is where he's from." Scout looks thoughtful for a moment. "Might be a year or two or even three, Anaya, but eventually we'll be able to travel further out from home regularly. We'll make sure you see the ocean."

Dark eyes turn to Shane for confirmation and he nods. Before, taking her down to Tybee would be an easy trip for a three-day weekend or a summer vacation. Now, it's fraught with a lot of travel concerns, but he can even see viable reasons to do it, if they can source fuel long enough. The coast is a pretty big resource for food, and he knows the port cities are probably crowded with abandoned supplies.

She looks back to her plate and mumbles something he can't quite catch, but from the instant tension that snaps through Scout, she understood it clearly.

"Anaya." She slides her arm across the girl's shoulders. "This isn't temporary. As long as you want us to be your parents, that's what we are. Not foster parents, not guardians. Parents."

"Even if you have more babies like the new one?"

Shane joins in the embrace, kissing the top of her head. It's not the time, yet, to tell her that's an impossibility. "Even if we have a dozen more babies."

She sniffles a little and he decides to hell with it and just pulls her into his lap, while Scout slides over a seat. Anaya never actually cries, but instead just shivers in his arms as if she is crying. "Why don't you box our stuff up and I'll take her home?" he suggests.

Scout nods and he stands easily with Anaya in his arms, glad today's relatively warm for December. Even with the sun down, it's still in the sixties, so the walk back to the cabin is comfortable except for the fact that he can feel his shirt growing damp from where the little girl finally is letting her tears fall.

It takes Scout longer to make it home than he expected, so Anaya's asleep in his arms on the couch, where she cried herself to sleep. Maverick's on the couch beside him, his big, broad head pillowed against Anaya's thigh. The dog was wary of her at first, but over the last few days, has started sleeping on the foot of her bunk.

His wife looks tired and strained as she tucks their food into the fridge. She comes to sit beside him, gently beginning to unbraid Anaya's hair. "Apparently, one of the other children said something he shouldn't today. Anaya didn't tell Carol, so she separated them to give them some space after Anaya pushed him down. Carol's going to have a chat with his parents and the other boy's parents."

"How did she find out?" On one hand, Shane wants to go have words with the little bully himself. But on the other hand, most of the kids here are traumatized as hell, so there's no telling what prompted the boy to lash out. He's honestly surprised they don't have more incidents of fights between the kids, since it's a diverse group with a lot of strong personalities just among the over thirty elementary aged kids. He knows there have been a few incidents with the teenagers, some even as far as blows being traded between the boys, but nothing the adults have had to really police. The teens are pretty good at yanking their errant members back into line so they don't lose privileges.

"Molly and Luke told their uncle when they saw you leave with her. Henry told me and Carol."

"What'd he say to her?" Shane figures it has something to do with the temporary comment from earlier.

"He called her our practice child and that we were going to give her away once we had real kids."

It takes what feels like physical effort to remind himself that the other child's likely as damaged by the world as Anaya. He centers himself by focusing on her warmth against him. Scout's still working with her hair, but he thinks it's more as a comfort to his wife than any grooming needing done. Today is usually an off day for them, but with the snow earlier in the week lingering, they ended up taking four of their teams out to help Glenn's teams when he radioed in a better than usual find.

Scout's quiet for a minute. "Jazz says Al thinks she might have been a foster child."

Ah, hell. He's heard enough of Patricia's diatribes about her two teens that got 'forgotten' by the adults the state paid to look after them. At least Jimmy's foster parents dropped him off at Hershel's before trekking off without him. But Al's just left one morning and never came home, and that was days before things got so bad that people were dying by the dozens.

"I know we want to let her open up as she goes, but I'm really thinking we might need to just ask some hard questions," he suggests. The unknowns make it hard to protect her emotionally. This isn't quite the same as letting Abby ride it out until she talked on her own.

"Or see if she'd talk to the kids easier than us. After all, she told Molly what was said, but not an adult."

"Think she might talk to Jazz and Sophia?" As much as he hates to put that burden on the teenagers, both of them are stable kids who probably could inspire trust as being close enough to children for Anaya to talk to.

"Jazz is already thinking along those lines, I think. We're off tomorrow, but he says if we go out unexpectedly, he'll babysit. He wants to start taking her around the animals, maybe teach her to ride. He says other than Wednesdays, he can keep her with him anytime. And Sophia's off chore roster on Wednesdays."

He thinks it over. Initially, they thought Anaya would stay with Lori and Abby, but in a weird twist, the two girls just haven't clicked on a friendly level. Half of that may be Abby's current obsession with sticking to Carl like the boy's shadow, which he isn't discouraging. And Jazz - the teenager's always been a Pied Piper to kids Anaya's age. Today's cooking lesson is a case in point.

"We'll give it a try, long as Jazz isn't feeling overworked by having her along. Give it a week or two."

"Maybe if she gets to know everyone a little better, she'll realize just how strongly Dixons don't give anyone up once they've laid claim," Scout says, inspiring him to the first smile in hours.

Yeah, and he'll just have to show her Walshes, at least his variety of the family, don't give up their people easily either.

This is fixable... they just need time.

~*~ MD ~*~

Carol slips an arm around his waist once she's back to her spot at the table, ignoring her remaining food as she buries her face in his shoulder for a moment.

"You get everything sorted?" he asks, once she takes a deep breath and picks her fork back up.

"Yeah. One very repentant twelve-year-old reporting to the cleaning crew tomorrow instead of having his day off school. His dad added for the next two weeks, so he'll have a lot of toilet cleaning in his future on Wednesdays and Saturdays."

"From his expression, I think he was about to wet himself during that lecture you gave him." The boy in question is likely to get an ongoing series of lectures, if the foreboding expression on his parents' face is any giveaway. Merle only knows them in passing, since the father's on the lunch crew and the mother's on one of the run teams, but Carol's worked with the father on the day she covers for Glynnis to have a day off in the kitchens.

"I don't think he realizes how much less he's suffered than some of the other kids. Quinton kept his group pretty isolated, and he's got both parents and his sibling. The other boy involved says it's not the first time he's been unkind to one of the less fortunate kids. Since that one isn't the actual one doing the bullying, I let his parents deal with explaining to him that standing by the bully is almost as bad as being the bully."

"Hopefully, he'll learn from the mistake. Not every day a kid around here gets a dressing down from you." He hadn't been kidding about the boy looking poleaxed that sweet, motherly Carol was reading him the riot act as good as any drill sergeant. It's not just that it's their granddaughter he bullied, but he knows Carol will always have that instinct to want to curtail anyone sliding onto the dark road men like Ed travel. Men like that don't just wake up one day and start smacking their families around. Habits like that start young, when bullies are left to run unchecked.

"He better. Because if Anaya has to knock him on his butt again, she won't be getting a time-out, I promise."

"What were you and Jazz talking to Scout about before she left?"

"He volunteered to babysit Anaya a while. Thinks she might benefit from being away from the other kids a bit and meet all the animals. Most of his work roster works out for her to tag along, so I've dropped her off school attendance for the week. See what comes of her having fewer stressors on her while she settles in."

"Could take him off my crew the one day, if you need." If they weren't setting in warehouses on the horse farm this week, he might even recruit the little gal. She's plenty old enough to learn some of the basics, but not on a work site where they're assembling steel buildings.

"I'll keep it in mind, but Sophia's got a free day that day and says she wants to come up with something to do with her. She likes being an aunt."

"Believe we might have some good kids there, Mrs. Dixon."

She gives him that pretty smile that makes him want to spirit her off out of public, responding to the surname the same way most women respond to sweetheart or darling. "We've got a whole lot of good kids."

"Yeah, that we do." Even the unofficial ones, the ones more attached to an individual one of his kids than to him or Carol, like Scout's stray teenage Marine, are good people.

~*~ LG ~*~

Abby getting sick for the first time since Lori's been caring for her worried her a lot more than she let on to Daryl. He'd taken it calmly, checking on the girl, before continuing to shower, just content that she did all the right things without so much as even a second guess. Being Abby's parent hasn't had any of the pitfalls she's been led to expect from her friends who were stepparents. Hell, even Carl's relationship with Daryl never seems to have any strife. Maybe it's because everything's still new, since Carl has butted heads with his dad and Shane a time or two.

Daryl's cooking dinner, rather than go up to the community meal and retrieve food. She loves Asian food, but suspects it would not love her at all with the heartburn the pregnancy causes lately. That leaves her time to check on Abby - again - glad of the fact they still have modern conveniences like ear thermometers. It's been five hours since her last dose of Tylenol and the fever's still gone. She stays seated on the edge of the bunk though, just watching the girl sleep, because although they've treated illnesses and accidents here so far, including Christian's rather tricky case of pneumonia, it still worries her.

They have antibiotics, and Glynnis confirmed Abby's never had any infection stick around stubbornly, but Carl did. She remembers the ear infection that just wouldn't go away when he was six, and the multiple cases of strep throat and ear infections that followed for two years until the doctors decided to take his tonsils out and put tubes in his ears. She has no idea if they could even come close to doing anything like that for Abby.

She finds herself rubbing at the texture on her engagement ring and that at least distracts her a little. When Daryl first proposed, Christmas night, she feared it might be a reaction to the wedding. Then she got a good look at the ring and knew there was no way the proposal was impulsive. The custom floral-patterned carving and inlays probably took him more than a month, especially since it isn't a piece he would have worked on in front of her in the evenings like he does some of his carvings.

She's learned enough from him, with the kids, to know she's years of practice from this level of skill.

It made saying yes a foregone conclusion, the icing on the cake of all the dozens of other quiet little things he does to show he doesn't just love her, he adores her.

It's a heady feeling.

With one last check that Abby's tucked in properly, she levers her way upright and pads down the hallway. She can smell the delicious scent of lamb chops cooking. With her last pregnancy checkup showing her iron tipping lower than anyone's comfortable with, and an inability to take iron tablets, she's been having a lot of iron heavy meals allotted her way. She's still a little skeptical of the suggestion she should take two tablespoons of that blackstrap molasses every morning, but after a week of the higher-iron diet and the molasses, her count is up above where it was when she had her first blood work done.

She dislikes the special treatment in some ways, because it reminds her of her embarrassingly selfish behavior at the quarry, but reminds herself it's for the baby's sake, not hers. It's no different than the extra care and special foods reserved for the elderly - or for the poor diabetic girl.

Slipping an arm around Daryl's waist as he works, she takes a deep breath, enjoying the aromas of the brussels sprouts and slices of sweet potatoes also sizzling next to the chops.

"I am gonna be glad for years that no one caught on that you could cook and snapped you up," she says, making him laugh softly.

"Told you before that I don't like the pre-made food. Had to figure out what to go with my game too." He sets down the tongs he's using and turns to pull her in for a kiss. "Abby still sleeping?"

She nods. "Yeah. Figured we might wake her in a bit to see if she'll take some soup. Carol sent down a container of butternut squash soup." And since Abby will eat almost anything, to the point Daryl jokes about keeping count of her utensils, she's not worried about the girl being picky the way Carl would have been at her age.

"Antibiotics should knock it right out. She'll probably be up in the morning, ready to run laps around us." He lets her go with a brush of lips and returns to his cast iron skillet. "Grab a couple of plates? I'm gonna toss the rest of the veggies in to cook. She might feel up to eating those too, and if not, snack for you tomorrow."

Once the plates are on the counter next to the stove, she pours glasses of tea, glad for the residents of the state of Georgia being so addicted to sugar and tea both that the inventory stock of both will probably last until the baby's a teenager. Not that the tea would stay viable that long, but still, they have that much stored now. Taking a seat at the table, she watches him finish up the meal with a deep sense of all being right in her world.

A year ago, she'd be spending New Year's Eve with just Carl for company, since Rick and Shane always seemed to pull the night shift that week. It might be ironic that she's engaged to another cop, after so many years of resenting how often the job made her effectively a single mother. She's well aware that Daryl's branch of law enforcement probably worked all the sobriety checkpoints too, on nights like tonight. But she thinks of all their evenings spent like this, bolstered by his craving for simply remaining in touching distance of her anytime it's possible - never sits across from her at the table, always next to her - would have more than made up for a few missed holidays.

"Jesus, woman, stop just admiring it and eat," Daryl says, words exasperated, but smile fond as he slides a plate in front of her.

Although he means the food, she deliberately takes the time to draw her gaze over him instead.

It gets her a fork shaken at her and a grumbled "stop that", but he's blushing and smiling, and that makes it even more perfect.

Damn, she loves this man.


	54. Year's End, Part 2

**December 31, 2010**

~*~ CG ~*~

Carl doesn't mind being ushered away as being too young for the remainder of the party in the community center, mostly because he's trying not to hyperventilate over the fact that Audrey is _holding his hand_ as they head toward the Dixon basement and a party more PG than he guesses the community center will celebrate. There's chatter around them, mostly a debate over which movie series to watch.

"I hope they go with _Night at the Museum_," Audrey says. "Or the comic book movies, not the Star Wars ones."

"Which comic book movies?" He's starting to understand that what he - and every other boy he knew back at school - thought about girls not liking comics was very wrong. Besides the fact that he has access to the massive collection of comics that Cricket's collected over the years, Sophia's a Justice League fan, at least. And now Audrey, too?

"Spiderman, hopefully, although I doubt we'll stay up long enough to watch all three. That's my favorite. Or X-Men would be cool too." She catches his astonished look and she smiles, but it's a little sad. "My little brother really loved X-Men. He watched them over and over til I thought he might wear out the DVDs."

Oh. He remembers the days where he thought his dad was dead and how it just ached. Audrey lost both her parents and her little brother. Abby's only been his sister for a few months and he would go crazy missing her. He squeezes her hand. "We can watch them sometime, even if they don't tonight."

It chases some of the sadness out of her expression and that gives him a bigger thrill than just holding her hand. Is this why his dad and Shane and Daryl all grin like idiots when they make ladies smile?

~*~ CD ~*~

Cricket makes her way down the narrow hallway that makes up the ten small rooms in Building A of the nursing home. Each of the three buildings brought onto the property is divided up this way, allowing each of their elderly residents to have a small private room, just large enough for hospital bed, a dresser that doubles as a nightstand, and a bookshelf by the door. Extra clothing is hung on hooks and each room has its own wall-mounted television with a DVD player on the bookshelf below. Each door is modified with a slide latch up near the top that can be opened from inside or outside the room, but no walker can manipulate.

The elderly die too often unexpectedly in their sleep to leave anything to chance. None of these people want to be the one who eats their friends or caretakers.

She taps at the first door frame on the right.

Guillermo's door is open, but the former janitor is lost in thought, not really watching the television he has playing. She notes that he has the captions on, as usual, and wonders if he misses watching television with sound. She's never met a person who wasn't fully fledged medical personnel that is so fully devoted to their charges. His room is nearly identical to the other nine, except he has a twin-sized bed instead. At least he's made his room comfortable and personalized.

He startles and looks up, meeting her gaze with the solemn nature she's come to expect from him. "You need me to go get Carlos, don't you?"

She nods, feeling a wealth of sadness building up in her. They've been blessed beyond belief so far, in keeping even their most fragile patients alive, but that luck's run out. She doesn't think Homestead will enter the new year with the same number of residents they have right now, and this particular lady is one of the few with a relative in residence.

G stands. "How long do you think? Do you need me to call Caleb over too?"

She shakes her head. "There's no need for a crowd. Just Carlos, his girlfriend if he wants her here. Lucia's still coherent for now, and she would like to see Zoe too, I think."

"She needs to see he's got someone to anchor him, with his abuela gone." G slides his jacket on and steps out into the hall. "You will be okay alone until I return?"

"Everyone else is sleeping. Lucia doesn't want an audience."

The former janitor sighs softly and heads through the common areas to go summon Carlos in person. This isn't an errand for the radios.

Cricket makes her way back to the fourth room on the left, listening to the labored breathing of her patient. While Caleb is the doctor is on-duty tonight, she just can't bring herself to not make this final journey with the woman. The room looks nothing like a nursing home, decorated lovingly by the woman's great-grandson, who has used his unexpected rise to a prominent place in the community to lavish comforts on the woman who raised him.

Lucia was a beauty in her day, and it still shows in the woman's bone structure. She blinks weakly at Cricket, breathing supplemented by the oxygen cannula, but she refused any more significant care. At eighty-six, it isn't any one thing wrong with her body that's winding her down, although her heart is the central issue now. She's been losing weight since Thanksgiving, her skin going papery thin and translucent, and for the past ten days, she's been dependent on oxygen. Cricket gives thanks they raided so many damned clinics and hospitals now. They can't turn the tide for her patient, but they can damn well make her comfortable.

In the world before, maybe a cardiologist could come up with a plan, implant a pacemaker. But now, it's just waiting on Lucia's body to wind itself down, her own requests limiting any intervention.

She's ready to let go.

"Would you like me to pray with you, Lucia?" she asks. Faith is something she laid by the wayside years ago, when she realized her church's doctrine would accept her sexual orientation, but only if she committed to living a life alone. But there's no diocese or cardinals or Pope to dictate anymore, so she's free to make her own choices now.

She gets a weak nod, so she reaches for the rosary in the pretty crystal bowl on the nightstand and carefully moves Lucia's fingers over the beads as she says the words for a woman lacking the strength to do them herself.

~*~ Gareth ~*~

Gareth didn't actually expect any of his people to want to attend the party, but with surprising resilience, or maybe a sense of safety here that allows them to grasp at normalcy, most actually do. It means that many join in the drinks and people watching, playing card and dice games around the margins of the room, rather than actually dance, but they're here and watching. It gives him hope that they'll all recover.

His mother surprises the hell out of him by dancing to some slow-paced song with one of the older men from the group that's women have quietly sat alongside the ladies of his own, listening to fears and confessions that even being there, he doesn't have the absolute understanding another survivor does.

He thinks that maybe it shouldn't surprise him quite so much that his people are losing the haunted air they came here with. Homestead isn't just sheltering them and offering safety. They're offering steps beyond hiding behind a wall. He's seen Cynthia smile at the ache of pulled muscles versus injured ones, growing stronger with each day and each lesson. The instructors are careful of her pregnancy, but no one's dared to tell her she can't learn. His own body feels like a giant bruise most days, because unlike the care taken with the women, the lessons for the men are just this side of brutal. As the two Marines like to growl out, if a teenager can survive Parris Island and come out a Marine, they can damn well learn the same skills.

She's taken to the gun range with a level of skill that is breathtaking - and terrifying.

Staying here was the right thing to do. The hard pace of a boot camp run as much by their own recognizance as actual drill instructors weighs on him, but he's going to stay just one step ahead. His people will never be an easy target for predators again.

~*~ Guillermo "G" ~*~

Lucia de la Cruz may have requested no wake while she spends her last hours on earth, but it happens anyway. Maybe it's an instinct among the elderly, that one of their own is loosening her grasp on the world, but within fifteen minutes of him fetching Carlos and his girlfriend, there's a small crowd in the common area of Building A. Some are praying, still holding on to a faith that has less place in this world than the old, but he'll never voice such a thought out loud.

Even the Vatos are here, foregoing the celebration of being alive at the end of a long, dark year to sit among the old folks they protected in Atlanta. The juxtaposition of the tattooed gang members among the elders will always be a novelty for him. So many of these good people were without a single visitor before the world ended, but once it did, family members who once thought they were not good enough to be welcomed found a maturity that others lacked.

He's proud of these young men, because even Miguel can no longer be considered a boy. Kids who once were more familiar with a damned gun in their hands or a needle in their veins are comforting those who are seeing one of their own leave them behind.

The young doctor is leaning against the wall outside Lucia's room. It seems the elderly aren't the only ones seeking comfort of an old-world religion. The beads he can glimpse in her fingers remind him of his mother's. When she lost her battle with cancer after five hard-fought years, it fell to him to clear out her little studio apartment. Even though he rejected her faith, he still has every one of her rosaries in a box in his room. It's one of the few things he retrieved from her apartment. Sometimes he opens the box and looks at the various colors and he can almost hear the echo of her prayers.

He's glad she didn't live to see this new world, but he thinks she would be proud of his place in it.

When he steps into view, the young woman slides the rosary into a pocket with a weary smile. "She asked me to keep it. Says that Carlos might never have her faith, but maybe his children would one day."

G can understand the optimism Lucia has. Back in Atlanta, the thought of a new generation seemed like a foreign entity. Now they're in a place where babies are being born, marriages made, and instead of dying from a lack of medicine or knowledge, he's losing one of his people peacefully.

He stands beside Cricket in the hallway, each listening as Carlos reads to his abuela, voice soft and gentle, and Lucia's breathing gets slower and slower with each passing moment.

At seven minutes to midnight, Lucia takes one last, deep breath... and then she's gone.

It's the young doctor who ensures that the beautiful old soul's body will not rise to endanger those she loved, and he's grateful that this first time, the first loss, someone else is here to take that burden for him.

~*~ Katherine ~*~

She's spent fifty-four years on this planet, and the past year has certainly been one of the most terrifying. If it were a movie, she would have scoffed at the outlandish plot. But if it were a movie, she supposes tonight is how such a script would end. Everyone's suffering behind them. New lives being built from the ashes of the old. A celebration of dancing, of life, of love, of _joy_.

Her age protected her more than most in Grady. The evil among them that masqueraded as officers of the law wasn't much interested in a woman on the wrong side of forty. It left her to be the one who comforted them, her own status as a mother giving her words weight that Natha, despite being older, just didn't carry. She would almost say she came out of that hellhole with a dozen or so children, not just the two she birthed.

It means she's tried to set the example. If she's comfortable around the men of Homestead, the women are going to believe they're safe. If she prods and watches and makes sure the remaining cops do their part - and is allowed her oversight of them by those same cops - it makes them believe even more. It would be easy to hate the six men and two women, to tar them with the same brush as the ones that Shane Walsh put down like the monsters they were.

But more than the younger ones, she understands the part that fear played even among those meant to protect. Hell, most of the cops are damned babies, young enough to be Katherine's own children. They had no more understanding of how to fight what happened in Grady than the civilians did. Cops weren't supposed to be monsters, after all. The ones who did protest died and life only got worse for everyone.

Her ladies have trained alongside those cops now. Many can even surpass them in skill, especially with blades. They've more incentive to learn unconventional fighting skills and less police academy training about avoiding brute force to overcome. There's a respect - and a lingering shame that they didn't give the same lessons - there now that Katherine would have thought impossible a few months ago.

When the youngest of the cops, the one that made his way onto Scout's own team by Katherine's recommendation, holds out a hand to Michaela, who suffered so badly at Gorman's hands, she isn't surprised that Michaela accepts Casey's offer to dance with a welcoming smile. The women are no longer thinking of the former cops as them versus us. It's the utmost example of how she knows without a doubt that her people are going to be okay.

There are no monsters allowed in Homestead.

~*~ EF ~*~

"You know, just hanging around and watching her ain't gonna do a damned thing for your cause," Abraham says behind him, causing Eugene to nearly jump out of his skin.

He can't quite muster the effort to glare at the man, because his words are true. He's considered leaving the community center, like he normally does on nights where music and dancing are the entertainment. He has not the inclination nor the skill for participating.

Her hair is actually loose tonight for the most part, with some locks gathered up into a braid to keep it off her face, and the braided part has something woven in that shimmers like the braid rings she's worn before, but more of a metallic cable. Like most of the women who stayed for the dancing, she's taking advantage of the warmer weather to wear dressier clothing instead of winter layers. He finds the shimmer of the red satin tunic dress she's wearing fascinating in a way that probably means he shouldn't be in public.

"Is it the age difference messing with your head?" Abraham looks thoughtful. "Heard someone mention you were a science teacher, before. Could see where that might be an obstacle, her barely out of high school, but shit, you ain't that old yourself, far as I can tell."

"She is the same age as the students I taught last." Eugene sighs and looks away from Honey to Abraham. "I turned thirty the day before I met you."

The big redhead scoffs. "Well, if that's all you are, you gotta get over it, man. Pretty damn sure that ex-cop she's dancing with right now is a couple of years older than you. And I've been in the field with her. Don't think you can equate who she is now with any high school kid, any more than you'd see a nineteen-year-old returning from a tour in the Middle East as a kid."

He doesn't answer, unable to find the words to express the state of inaction he finds himself trapped in. With Rosita, the crush had a snowball's chance in hell of ever developing into anything beyond her being amused to at his voyeurism. With Honey, he honestly isn't sure, because he's found no viable link in determining her type or preferences.

"Told ya, Eugene. Grow a pair and tell the gal. If she says no, we'll bitch about women and get drunk off our asses. And if she says yes, well, wouldn't that be a hell of a way to ring in the new year?"

The song ends and Honey weaves her way toward them after snagging a bottle of water off the counter. She's even managed to drink half the thing by the time she reaches them and plops it on the table in front of Eugene before perching alongside it. It makes her leg brush against his arm and his fingers flex with the urge to touch. She reaches out to fluff his hair, as is her habit, and he fixes it, as is his.

"Almost midnight, Eugene. None of the pretty ladies catching your eye?" She tilts her head, pursing her lips. "Or men, if that's your inclination."

Abraham, sat opposite and catty-corner to him, is smirking at him, the asshole. There's something sly in the man's expression and Eugene has just long enough to think 'oh shit' before Abraham speaks.

"Oh, there's a lady that's caught his eye, but he thinks she'll turn him down."

"Honestly, Eugene, any lady here would be lucky to have you." Her expression is earnest and open. He thinks she genuinely believes that.

"My past history does not indicate any modicum of success in romantic endeavors."

She scoffs. "And I've told you there's a lotta folks needing sense smacked into them in your past."

Abraham is making a 'go ahead' gesture, followed by a rude one when Eugene shakes his head.

"Almost midnight! Kisses bring good luck!" someone yells. Another person starts a countdown from thirty, which causes many of those present to laugh. Eugene can see shuffling, couples pairing off, even if just temporary for the tradition. He studies his hands instead of continuing to watch.

That's why it catches him completely by surprise when his face is cupped between two warm hands as the count reaches zero. He barely has time to register what she's about to do before Honey's kissing him, gentle contact that gives him a strong longing for more. He realizes like most contact, she's giving him the chance to pull away and set personal space boundaries.

He can't help himself. He kisses her back, urging something beyond the chaste little kisses she's placing along his lips. She melts into the kiss as easily as if they've done this a hundred times before, and he's never been kissed with this sort of raw enthusiasm. When they absolutely have to have air, she nips at his bottom lip before pulling away.

"I continue to learn that the women in your past were utter morons," she says.

He glances to Abraham, but the redhead has his hands full - literally - with one of the older women. That kiss is about a layer of clothes shy of being inappropriate for public. Honey follows his gaze and grins before giving a low wolf whistle. "Gonna put on a show, Sergeant?" she calls out.

It startles the couple into separating. The woman smiles sheepishly and Abraham's wolfish smirk implies he wouldn't be opposed to it, as Eugene well knows.

"As gorgeous as that would be to watch, not everyone wants to be a voyeur. Diane, I'd say carry him off and curl his hair, but..." Honey grins at Abraham's curly red locks. "Maybe see if you can uncurl it?"

The woman, now identified as Diane, so he knows she's a supply runner, grins and slides out of Abraham's lap to draw the man after her. "That sounds like a very interesting experiment to make."

The sergeant makes to follow, but pauses to whisper something in Honey's ear, before being led away.

Eugene is certainly worried now, because Honey is eyeing him speculatively. "What did he say?"

"C'mon. I'll tell you in a minute." She's on her feet, snagging her water bottle in one hand and his hand with the other. Although he can feel a raw, aching ball of uneasiness settling in his gut, he allows himself to be towed along. She's leading the way to his apartment and just squeezes his hand when she catches his uneasy looks.

As soon as the door is closed, she's pushing him gently against it. He can't mistake her intent now, because instead of the only point of contact being their lips, her entire body is pressed against his as she kisses him. He fumbles his arms around her waist, moving higher to her back as he encounters the fact that despite the festive clothing, she's still very much armed with a belly band holster around her waist. The fingers of one of her hands are in his hair, buried in his mullet as if it's the most natural thing for her to do. The other hand is at the small of his back. He doesn't think it could feel more intimate if she slid her hand down the back of his pants.

When she finally lets him up for air, she doesn't move away. He can feel every inch of her against him, and it's an exquisite torture because he's still unsure why this is happening. "What did Abraham say?"

"Said you were too shy to ask for what you wanted."

"He might be on the correct side of the issue with that determination."

"And since he also suggested something very... crude... as a solution, I thought I'd test his theory out again."

Abraham's lack of filter and casual profanity probably didn't make things easier. "What was his theory?"

"That you would very much like me to 'fuck that big brain right outta your head'."

He groans and stutters, unable to formulate a reply. She doesn't seem offended, and if she's testing Abraham's theory, it explains the fact that he's pinned to his own door by a woman he's been yearning for.

"Well, Eugene? Is that what you want? This is far as I go if you don't tell me what you want."

Dear God in Heaven, it sounds like she's considering the idea. He can't understand why. Despite the fact that he is slowly getting into shape, he's still a pudgy man at least fifty pounds overweight with few attributes to endear him to someone like her. But if she's offering, even for just one night, is it worth the risk to their friendship? She doesn't seem to let the fact that she's shared the sniper's bed deter her from an open friendship. If he hadn't seen her leave with the man in an obvious pursuit of a sexual encounter, he would never even guess they were more than very good friends.

"I would like that very much," he manages at last. Even once would be better than never finding out what she'll feel like skin-to-skin against him.

Her smile turns to an impish grin and she steps back. He smothers a brief moment of panic when he realizes she's not leaving, just sliding her hands under the tunic dress to release her holster. It goes in its usual place on the counter as she steps further away, bumping into his bed and using it to balance as she unzips her boots and kicks them aside.

He's still standing frozen against the door when she toys with the hem of her tunic. "Gonna help a girl out or do you just want a show?" she asks.

edited scene

If he has to bury his face in her shoulder to keep from a declaration even he is socially adept enough to know is too soon for her to hear from him, at least she isn't any wiser, for now.


	55. The New Year Dawns

**January 1, 2011**

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle moves around the pre-dawn dim kitchen with Christian grousing on his hip. It's not the baby's habit to wake this early, since Cricket's duty shift usually means they sleep later and eat breakfast here at the house. The fact that he's trying to gnaw Merle's shirt tells him it's more teething than hunger.

The damp terrycloth he tossed into the freezer is plenty chilled now, so he offers it to his grandson, and the boy settles as the combination of cold and texture give him some relief.

They originally offered to watch the baby for Tara and Cricket to enjoy the party last night, but he knows his daughter ended up spending the latter part of the evening with a patient. Carol was asleep when Cricket returned, making a trip through the house to peer in on her son in his crib in Merle's office for a minute before heading home to her partner.

Carol must be plenty tired, because she barely stirred when Christian woke fussing and settled easily when he said he was getting up. It's been years since he's had early morning 'conversations' with an infant or toddler and he enjoys the time with just him and the baby.

He snags the bottle he put in the warmer, just in case easing his gums reminds Christian he hasn't eaten for hours. Like most places he sits, the recliner in the living room faces out over the back property. They've made a lot of changes to the house due to new family in residence, but not that, at least. Although the way the glider rocker is positioned facing the deck instead of the television tells him Patricia shares his penchant for the view.

He guesses right about the bottle, because the baby easily trades his wash cloth for the bottle now that the dose of Tylenol is kicking in. The combination being rocked in the recliner with a full belly and less painful gums soon sends him right back to sleep.

Merle doesn't aim to return him to his crib. Instead, he snags the flannel throw closest and tucks them both in the recliner. He tugs his notebook over and sketches out his plans for the coming week while the baby drools on his left shoulder.

One major rearrangement is that Michael Fisher, the man the medical staff nursed through his bout with tetanus, would like to return home. It's a dilemma, because no one wants to send a barely recovered man and a teenage boy out on a 500-mile journey. The council decided yesterday to send a team with them, although the hope is that if the other community survived, they'll consider a move to Homestead. Michael can't speak for the rest, but he's certainly wanting to bring his wife and other two sons back.

Merle can't blame him. A community with medical care versus one without is pretty easy to decide between, as a father.

But asking a group of their own people to head out into months of on-the-road danger is a tough request. Scout suggested at least one of the two most experienced military men, so he's planning on meeting with Abraham and Tim today after their supply run.

With luck, and the group traveling north establishing solar-powered repeaters along their route, they'll be able to stay in touch. It doesn't make it any easier to send folks out that far into the unknown.

Last year at this time, he was dividing time between Georgia and San Antonio, in between finding the best experts money could buy for his eldest daughter's recuperation. The military did have one of the premier burn centers in the world, but he knew then they would never provide the full-scale reconstruction she required. But at least by that point, the worst was behind them.

In a year's time, the world's gone to utter hell, but whatever karma he built surviving his childhood is spun out in this little oasis for his family to become an oasis for Georgia's survivors. When he bought this place twelve years ago, it was meant to be a new beginning for his family, away from the specter of Will Dixon.

He's married and managed more children and two grandchildren with another on the way. If the good luck holds, maybe he'll even be a father once again the old-fashioned way. Two of his daughters are married, whether Cricket and Tara want to call it that or not and bypassed the whole ceremony issue entirely. Two of the boys his daughters adopted into the family are engaged. He honestly thinks more news of grandchildren is just a matter of months, not years. The younger kids are thriving in this world in a way he thinks most adults will never manage, even ones more adapted to hard knocks like himself.

His one regret is that if he were more stable early in the apocalypse, they might be further along, and more of the people part of his daily life before might have lived if he exerted more pressure on his employees, subcontractors, and neighbors to take refuge here rather than trusting the government. At this point, he doesn't expect any more surprise survivors already known to him, like Quinton's group. They would have found them by now.

The future is just a matter of finding any more pockets of good people and bringing them in or aligning with those stable enough to stay independent. He can't imagine that only his settlement and the predatory one to the southwest are all that's left of Georgia, much less other states. There's too many examples of other groups surviving for at least some period of time, and both his daughter's traveling group and the others who've moved through other states mentioned survivors that didn't join up.

He doesn't like to believe in any higher power, but he sometimes has to wonder. He remembers the first time he stood on this property, overgrown and half-wild, with the nutty old man selling it watching him like he could read Merle's damned mind. The place should have wiped out a good portion of his share of the family funds left to him by his great-grandmother.

Instead, the old man just muttered something about "the land's speaking to ya, ain't it?" and then charged him half of what it was worth, saying a dying man didn't need cash the way a family man did.

He died within the month of Merle taking ownership, in that same nursing home in town they put the elderly in. Every last cent the man had left went to a women's shelter in Northeast Georgia, and it made Merle wonder, not for the last time, just how much the old man knew of the Dixon legacy he broke free from.

He suspects the old coot would enjoy his old place being the shelter for the decent folk of Georgia.

The land does still give him that feeling it's trying to speak to him. He likes to think it's happy with all the lives sheltered within it.

~*~ EP ~*~

It takes Eugene a little while to orient as he wakes. Having someone in the bed with him isn't terribly foreign, because Honey's stayed over often enough. Having someone close enough that he can feel bare skin on his, that's new.

Slowly, memory of last night returns and he tries to regulate his breathing as anxiety kicks in. Last night, getting just one night with Honey sounded like it was worth the risk.

This morning, he thinks that might have been a mistake, because now he wants _more_ and he's no right to ask that of her.

"You're thinking too much for just waking up."

He stiffens at her comment, feeling her breath wuff against his chest. He's still a little astonished at himself that he's only wearing pajama pants to bed, while she's wearing one of his T-shirts. When he doesn't answer right away, the arm she has tucked against his side moves as she rubs her hand across his chest to cup his jaw. She pushes up to one elbow and gives him a sleepy smile.

"Is the panic because you want to pretend we didn't have sex last night or something else?"

He wonders how she can state that so calmly. "I am unfamiliar with how a morning-after should be properly handled," he opts to say, instead of his hopes for more. Honey's lack of commitment to anyone she's shared a bed with is worrisome.

"Huh." She smiles a little more brightly than before. "Well, that depends. If it was a one-time experiment, we go back to acting like we always do and put a few more clothes on."

"And if I would greatly prefer to repeat the experience?" He does his best not to hyperventilate as he waits for her answer.

She glances at the clock and smiles wickedly. "Now or tonight?"

He did not expect that sort of reply, but his anxiety disappears in the face of a far more intense emotion as his body declares its firm intent that 'now' is perfect. She seems to know, somehow, and claims a kiss that doesn't leave him guessing at all.

He'll figure out the longevity of this endeavor later. He's at least got the answer that she's happy about last night, if she's encouraging his attentions again this morning.

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane hides a grin at Anaya's amazement as she sits atop the horse. He can ride well enough, but he's leaving the lessons to his young brother-in-law. Kid sometimes makes him wonder about stories where people can speak to animals, because they respond to him as if he speaks their language. He suspects it's the innate gentleness that inhabits Jazz. Even the attack on the Vatos didn't strip that away from him the way they feared it would.

As for Anaya, she's taking to riding so easily, he would never guess it's her first lesson. She's got the reins confidently in hand, with Jazz only walking beside the horse with a lead in the open area between barn and pastures. It surprised him that Jazz put the girl up without a saddle, but the teenager just shrugged and explained that she needs to learn the feel of the horse first. He did get her to buckle on a helmet that he produced from somewhere.

It leaves him leaning against the side of the barn and watching. Anaya's glancing over to him periodically, checking that he's still there, and he's glad that he decided there was little that needed his attention today that couldn't wait. His and Scout's off days are rarely truly duty free, but they can usually limit the demands on their time to just one of them at a time. In the past, they were happy enough to spend the extra time together. Now the overlap makes for an easy division of time for their adopted daughter.

Anaya's starting to flag a little, so Jazz leads them back to where Shane's waiting.

"You want to learn how to brush her down? She'll go back in the pasture after, but any time you ride, always do a good check of the horse before you set it free."

She nods, accepting Jazz's guidance on how to dismount while Moonshine stands patiently at the mounting block.

"Go look in the basket in her stall and get her brush. You can hang your helmet on the hook outside her stall if you want, since you'll ride her again tomorrow."

She beams and trots off, while Jazz pets the big horse as she nuzzles at his chest.

"She took to that horse like a duck to water, didn't she?" Shane asks.

Jazz laughs. "Yeah. It helps that it's Moonshine, who is as close to a horse with training wheels as they come, despite how big she is. But give it a few weeks and I wouldn't hesitate to put her on Imbri either. Spinda, I'm not so sure. She's skittish sometimes, and Anaya's not old enough to understand her spazzing yet." He looks thoughtful. "I should probably check out the tack at the horse farm. Eventually, she'll need to learn to ride with a saddle, and we don't have anything for children that will fit Moonshine or Imbri, just Spinda."

Shane glances out to the pasture, where Imbri and Spinda are grazing. The massive Friesian/Percheron mare dwarfs the little paint next to her. He's heard it mentioned in passing that Imbri outweighs the smaller horse by nearly five hundred pounds. He's ridden Imbri and Moonshine both, and he can understand why the saddles can't just be swapped around willy nilly with a smaller horse like Spinda.

"Think Arthur could make something, if you need it custom?" The patriarch of the Eldridge family has a leather workshop down on his farm that would make anyone who ever wanted to work with leather die from sheer envy. Arthur attributes it to a lifetime of collecting tools and equipment. Shane's just happy he ranked high enough in the older man's estimation to merit a gift of handmade leather boots for a wedding gift.

"I'll have to ask. I don't know that he's ever made a saddle before. Might be a good project since he's got apprentices now."

One of Donna and Allen's twins, Ben, and the orphaned older teenager from Grady, Troy, are both working with Arthur on both farm and whatever other skills the man can pass on. Shane heartily approves of it, because skills like tanning and leather work are much easier from a live teacher than from books or videos, and eventually, they will run into situations they don't have stored items for.

Anaya comes back with the brush and follows Jazz's instructions with the concentration and seriousness of a bomb technician. It doesn't take long to go through the grooming lesson, and Jazz leads Moonshine off to return her to pasture.

"Think you want to try that again?" he asks, waiting on the obvious answer.

"Yes!" She's vibrating with happy energy as she walks beside him, holding his hand. Scout should be done with the arrangements she's working on with Merle about the Virginia trip by now.

"Tomorrow, Scout and I have to work again. You think you might like to spend the day with Jazz while we're gone?"

"With the animals?" She's considering it, although animals are always a good incentive at her age.

"Probably part of the day. But he might spend some of it with family, since a lot of them are off duty tomorrow."

"Like Carol or Merle?"

"Yeah."

"What about lessons?"

"Well, way we figure it, you're smart enough to keep up without sitting in the school house for a little bit. You'll still need to do your lessons, but you'll have to ask Jazz or Carol or Lori for help if you need it." The system worked well for integrating Abby past her trauma into the community, and they aren't really following any set grade level instruction for the kids, just aiming to meet their ability levels. It's meant that some kids are working on high school level material at eleven or twelve. He's not worried about Anaya at this point, because Gail assures them that she's well above the grade level she might be in if the world hadn't fallen.

"And when he's working? He works a lot, more than most of the other teenagers."

Score one for observation for his girl. "Yeah, he does. He thinks you can help or watch for everything except the building crew. So, on Wednesdays, you'll stay with Sophia, if you're comfortable with that, or Lori and Abby." Wednesdays worry him a little, because it's also one of the two days the elementary aged kids are out of class, like they are today. But he also doesn't think any of the more volatile younger kids would risk crossing Sophia, especially not the two boys who experienced Carol's disgruntled lecture.

"I like Sophia. She says she can teach me to draw like she does."

"Then Sophia it is."

They've reached the planning room the council's begun using as their meeting place, in the building shared with the watch shifts. Merle and Scout both look a little weary, but he supposes going through the options to send people out on a long trip into the unknown wears on anyone. Both of them greet Anaya warmly, and she seeks out a hug from Scout before telling them about her riding lesson.

"You want to learn a little about how we keep watch on all the property?" he asks Anaya. She nods, so he opens the door into the other room.

Dale and Amalia both smile at them and Dale agrees to give her a lesson in how the cameras work. She doesn't seem wary of the elder man in the least, but Dale does have that sort of trusted uncle vibe. It gives Shane a chance to step back over, although he leaves the door open.

"Y'all look like you don't really like the conclusions you're reaching," he remarks.

Merle sighs. "Funny part is, the part you'd think is the hard part is one of the easiest. If we send them off in my old work truck, the tank's already modified to hold enough diesel, they might even make it all the way there on the single tank. Toss in a couple drums of the fuel from the raceways and they wouldn't even have to scavenge. It'll seat six, so that gives us a full team, plus the Fishers, but damn, that's cutting it close, and nowhere to sleep."

"We're going to check with the mechanics to see if they can drop a cabover meant for a pickup onto one of the M35s. That'll give some sleeping space, and space for two or three more trained folks." Scout's checking her notes. "RV lot they snagged the last batch from had some good cabover campers. They'll need a third vehicle though. Going to be bringing back at least three people, if they're lucky and the community up there survived. Maybe one of the already modified buses."

"You narrowed down who you're going to ask to go?" He gave Scout his suggestions.

"Abraham, Tim, Christopher, and Danny, for sure. Gives two really experienced military, a medic, and a solid tech. We also need a mechanic, but that's tricky because the most obvious ones are Rosita or Honey."

All single, childless men in the confirmed list. And a choice between the two females that he suspects is the reason for the weary looks on the Dixon faces. If they ask for volunteers from the mechanically capable, they all know Honey will step forward, especially to help Rosita avoid months on the road with Abraham.

"Damn." He thinks over the tinkerers, but realizes none of the shadetree mechanics are ones he wants to trust these folks' safety with.

"At least she'll be going out with people we know will keep her safe," Scout says tiredly. "All people she trusts, depending on who we send out as the sixth."

"So, who gets to be the one to tell Carol we're considering sending one of her kids out into the wilds of Virginia?" he asks.

They all grimace at that.

~*~ CP ~*~

"Carol? Darlin'? You got a minute?" Merle's voice comes from the bedroom, so Carol calls out to him that she's in the bathroom.

He looks to the supplies she's tucking in a basket to be more convenient and actually smiles, which ought to be a weird experience aside from teenagers hoping to dodge a pregnancy scare. But then again, her cycle's reappearance is a sign that they can soon start trying. She certainly didn't miss the messy monthly process.

He doesn't comment though, waiting as she fumbles the bottle of Midol open and takes two tablets.

"What did you need me for?"

She spent most of the morning planning out a funeral of sorts for Lucia, who asked to be cremated, which led to some interesting research of just how to best do that. In the end, a team confirmed a lot of propane at the nearest small crematorium, so her body will be taken out tomorrow and her ashes taken to a nearby columbarium by her great-grandson as she wished. The woman was a devout Catholic, but months of the dead walking in the world made her not wish to be buried.

"Well, I figure if I'm going to tell you something upsetting, it'll be before the council meeting we need to have tonight."

"Is this about the Fishers?" That's the only issue really problematic at the moment. She can't imagine expanding the greenhouses or irrigation systems once the latest warehouse is done would worry him.

"Met with Scout today to come up with a list of who needs to go. Soon as Glenn's team got back in the gates, she started snagging folks to see if they were okay with being volunteered."

"Alright. That makes sense." She frowns, trying to figure out what he's uneasy about, and then it hits her. "Honey's going." He wouldn't be this antsy over one of the older offspring.

"She agreed, yeah. Need someone with more mechanical skills than Danny's got, and no one thinks it's a good idea to send Rosita out. Was going to ask Brady and Denova to go out as a pair, but seems he's gone and knocked her up. Should have talked to you before I talked to Honey, but she figured out something was up. Apparently, Noah's mentioned the need to go get his family to the others his age."

Carol sighs. The last thing she wants is one of their children out on the road - even the grown-up Marine ones. If she fusses, she suspects Honey would even stay, to avoid stressing her. She slides her arms around Merle's waist and accepts the hug he offers. "As much as I want to handcuff her to a post and refuse to let her go, I can't limit her out of fear."

"That's about how I was thinking on it. I keep thinking about all the kids being gone for months and the idea of repeating it makes me crazy, but this is hopefully the known and not unknown. Honey and Danny were already sitting down with the maps to figure out where to put in repeaters."

"Danny's going too?"

"Yeah. Abraham, Tim, Danny, Christopher. Tim suggested Andrea, odd as it sounds, but if he thinks she's ready and able, I'm willing to ask her. Figure on asking Elias too. Gives them another ex-cop, but at least he's a wildlife one. That'll give them two teams of four able-bodied if they need to stop and explore."

Carol mulls it over. Danny's already proven in the past he's willing to die to save Honey. She knows Christopher would, and the fact that he's not just a medic, but a fully trained registered nurse is better than one of the medics, like Zach or Zoe. Abraham... well, she honestly thinks the big man wouldn't allow any harm to come to the girl he once accidentally assaulted. Andrea, Elias, and young Noah Fisher would be the unknowns. She feels like scoffing at herself for thinking in the terms of the others defending Honey. Of all the girls, she's probably the most viciously capable next to Scout.

"Sophia's going to absolutely hate it, you know," she says, feeling him relax at her acceptance. She realizes he was honestly worried about it being decided without her input. Maybe she would be upset - or even angry - if it were Jazz or Sophia, but they've all effectively declared Honey an independent adult. Backpedaling on that now will only hurt her relationship with her stepdaughter.

"Yeah. She was bad enough when we let Honey get her own apartment. But she's got distractions right now, at least."

Carol leans in to kiss him gently, reassuring him that all's good between them. "We'll just make sure that the little expedition wants for nothing, shall we?"

He laughs. "Trust you to go straight to planning mode, darlin'."

"It's what I do best."

And since she can't curtail Honey's freedom, she can at least stick her nose everywhere she can to make sure the trip is successful - and short.

~*~ AF ~*~

Abraham takes a seat at the table across from Eugene, figuring it won't take long for gossip to start spreading about the Virginia trip. He figures he owes it to the younger man, in light of their friendship, to be the first to tell him. Especially since although he was well past sloshed last night, he distinctly remembers Eugene getting a new year's kiss. He's curious if the young woman took his suggestion to heart.

"Well, Mister Porter. Do I still owe you a night of drunken complaints about the female of the species?"

Eugene startles, before flushing such a dark red he's nearly purple. It catches Rosita's attention too, and she stops her conversation with Rick on her other side to turn to Eugene. She snags his jaw and moves aside his collar and whistles softly.

"I'd say we owe him more of a congratulations," she says, fingers exposing a very distinct love bite below Eugene's left collarbone. "I'd ask who the lucky lady is, but that's a fact I already can guess."

"How?" Eugene sounds strangled, looking between them.

"Oh, my friend, the only one unaware of your crush around here was probably the lady herself," Rosita states.

"Everyone knows?" He sounds mortified.

"Not as bad as Rosita says, but anyone who knows you well could figure it out," Abraham replies.

He studies his hands for a moment and sighs. "I am still uncertain of exactly where we stand, other than confirmation that she does not find me abhorrent."

"I'd say she doesn't. Leaving a mark like that in an easy to be seen place... that's a statement itself," Rosita notes.

Abraham nods. "Bit of a 'property of' marker, right, Rosita? Can't say I've ever seen the ex-marshal with any such evidence."

Eugene reaches up to touch the spot, looking more than a little lost, and Abraham feels for the man. Trust him to finally get laid, or at least close enough for the lady to mark him, and still not know for sure where he stands.

"Got some bad news for you, I'm afraid," he tells him. "They're drawing up a team of seven to escort the Virginia boys back home. Asked me to lead them up there today."

"I cannot imagine you would be anything other than successful in such an adventure. You got me all the way here from Texas, after all, and I'm certain you'll leave here better prepared."

Abraham glances at Rosita and he sees the wheels turning in her head and the appropriate conclusion being reached as she grimaces and reaches out to take Eugene's hand and squeeze it.

"Group like that needs a mechanic, Eugene," she says softly. "And there's only two of us qualified who can leave Homestead."

They watch it dawn on him and the misery spread across Eugene's face. "How long do you estimate such a trip to take, without me interfering in the route?"

It's the first verbal confirmation Abraham has that Eugene did sabotage their trip here, like he suspected after the truth came out. He lets it slide. "Based on our experience and the other two longer treks on record, maybe as long as four or five months. But we're not going to need to forage for supplies or fuel, so that'll help. As long as the vehicles hold up, if the roads aren't terrible and we don't have to route around big herds, I'm hoping for half that."

Eugene's hands are shaking and he's almost inaudible. "You'll keep her safe?"

"I'll do my damnedest. She's a firecracker like Rosita. We'll make it back."

He nods in acceptance, and distraction arrives in the form of Honey herself, who leans in to talk to Eugene quietly enough Abraham can't hear. The younger man nods and rises, so he figures Honey's making sure he's fully informed herself.

"Hopefully they'll iron things out a little more, if she's going out of her way to talk to him about leaving," Rosita comments.

Abraham just nods thoughtfully. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, so hopefully that'll work for Eugene and Honey too, especially if the girl isn't ready to commit.


	56. Too Much Snow

**January 10, 2011**

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle pulls the front-end loader to a halt. Between his original equipment, Arthur's, and a few pieces brought in just in case, they've managed to cut paths everywhere absolutely essential to Homestead folks to get to. They even can get all the way to the front gate on Arthur's old place, not that anyone's leaving the property.

The storm is one of those rare ones to hit Georgia. Snow started around bedtime last night and just kept coming, and while at first he was grateful it was snow and not sleet, by the time the weather station the school kids set up hit the seven inch mark, he's figuring it's now becoming a larger problem. So, while those who can run the equipment make sure everything can be accessed, especially the animals, Carol's got a team running door to door checking on how the heat is holding up. So many of these systems are new and untested, and he's honestly surprised nothing came over the radio about any problems.

Worst part is, they've lost contact with the Virginia-bound team. He reminds himself that the folks were picked for having more than their fair share of common sense. They're either holed up somewhere or maybe the storm didn't hit as badly that far north. Without having to worry about supplies or fuel, they're only having to route around traffic jams. They crossed the Savannah River by nightfall the first day, on the eighth, on US Highway 123 sticking to the smaller US and state highways where the jams are easier to clear. When they checked in last night around eight, they were north of Spartanburg despite reporting snow. It wasn't unexpected, considering the elevation.

The mountain route seemed an advantage initially, because it avoids the big population centers and the patterns they've seen of the walker herds is that they tend to congregate more in the flatlands than heading uphill. While he's pretty damned sure his big 4x4 dually and the M35 can manage the snow in the mountains, the school bus he has his doubts about. With any luck, if they are on the move, Abraham made the call that Honey shouldn't be driving the damn thing in winter weather.

He thumps to the ground and tromps toward the watch building. Folks have been busy up here too, clearing the smaller areas they can't get the loaders or tractors into, so it's an easy enough trek.

Mandy turns as soon as he enters, and she grins. "Was just about to send out the message. We had radio contact, although it's spotty due to the weather. They figured out the snow was looking bad and started heading northeast to get out of the storm. Drove part of the night and made it into North Carolina. Took Danny a bit to get the newest repeater in place due to the weather."

"Where are they?" he asks, stepping to the map they have on the wall in here for the watch to mark.

"North of _Charlotte_." She sounds excited, and he doesn't blame her. After the struggles the groups from Texas, Kentucky, Alabama, and Florida faced, no one really expected them to make this kind of time. "Christopher says they're gonna take off the rest of the day though, now that they're north of worst of the storm, so they won't make any more mileage today."

With this kind of progress, they'll be in Richmond within a week, he thinks, although they'll be taking a roundabout to avoid the big population areas of Winston-Salem and Greensboro. The detour north across the Virginia line would add a handful of hours before. Now, it might add another day, depending on what they encounter. He's glad they're carrying enough fuel to theoretically make it up there and back, and he saw the gleam in his daughter's eyes when their route went right by Martinsville, Virginia. He suspects they'll be doing a supply run at the speedway.

He isn't sure the return will be as swift, partly because they're likely to have more people to move. Most of the folks sent on the team are used to moving fast and rough. He's not sure anyone holed up in a community all this time will be as durable about it.

"Any signs of big herds?" he asks.

"None so far, but they're keeping a close watch being so close to that metro area."

"Go ahead and send out the community wide message. I imagine a lot of folks are anxious as hell." Like Carol, who has probably driven everyone within arm's length batty keeping busy.

He silences his radio as Mandy dispatches the message so it won't echo. "You ladies have lunch before you came on duty?"

"Yeah. They had boxed lunches ready for us." Nichelle, the other woman on watch, motions toward their discards in the trash. The watch room is small, half of one of the container buildings, with stations for six people, although they never run more than two per watch. With a bathroom and mini-kitchen between the watch room and the meeting room, it's self-contained for the watch folks, other than full meals.

"Alright. Enjoy watching the snow, ladies."

They laugh, turning back to the screens, which cycle through a lot of blanketed white outside the walls and a few brave working souls within adding a little color.

The snow's still falling, at two in the afternoon, but he's starving, and he's hopeful they've cleared the worst of it for now. He does swing by the weather station on the way, shaking his head at the snow nearing the eight-inch mark.

He sheds his winter gear and even his boots at the door to the community center. The row of footwear shows that everyone's had the same idea, not to track snow further in. He makes a mental note to add a true enclosed porch to the place so folks can leave footwear on racks and save the folks on duty from extra cleaning when the weather's bad.

The watch room was warm enough, but the community center is outright toasty. He suspects having over half the residents here and playing games or watching a group movie on one end adds to the warmth, but he's glad to see the heating system holding up for such a large room.

"Was starting to think you were going to stay out there all day," Carol quips as he sidles up to the counter. It doesn't take long for her to ladle up some of the leftover stew from lunch and slide a couple of pieces of cornbread over with it.

He shrugs. Between the enclosed cab on the front-end loader and the thermos of hot tea she sent along, the worst part of the morning was the need to take a piss midway through in 25-degree weather. "Figured better to get it done all at once."

She follows him to a sparsely populated table with two mugs of hot tea and joins him while he makes short work of the food.

"Sounds like we may have them back sooner than expected," she comments.

"If their luck holds. Although after they end up on in a damned snowstorm dropping this much snow in Georgia, you have to wonder at the luck sometimes."

She smiles. "I suppose we should be glad they were alert and got away from the worst of the storm. If we got this much here, can you imagine the mountains it came down out of?" She consults her notebook. "Figure it'll stick around a few days, so I'm rotating the crews that can't work to give some time off to those who can."

"Sounds like a plan. Folks working with the animals are going to need extra help to get things done faster. I know folks up north deal with colder temps longer, but no sense in being risky." He's just glad they do have enough barn space for the animals that need it.

Hershel takes a seat, looking thoughtful and somehow pleased. He's holding a notebook of his own and waits til he has both their attention. "I'm sure you're aware a few of the couples around here have decided it's safe to add to the population."

"Ah hell. We're about to get hit with a bunch of September babies, aren't we?" Merle says. He resists a joke about men giving unwrapped presents, all things considered, since Carol's a mess of careful charts and tracking at the moment.

"And considering these confirmed pregnancies are the ones actively trying, we may have more. As much as we like to think of birth control as infallible, it isn't always," Hershel says. "They're testing in early and all numbers look good for all three women, but since we've got the opportunity for very early care here, we're taking it."

"You keep smiling, Hershel. Should I hazard a guess that one of the ladies is Maggie?" Carol asks. She looks excited for the young woman, and Merle remembers she was one of Carol's earliest friends here, despite the age difference.

"You are correct." His smile widens, making his ongoing resemblance to Santa stronger. "None of them want to publicly announce anything yet, but Cricket brought me the report. I figure by Valentine's Day, the news will be out on all of them. Cricket's got the plans written up, but she wants to meet with you, Carol, to review, when you have a chance since you're aiming to be her primary backup."

"Might as well go over there now. Studying is something that can happen even in eight inches of snow." She kisses Merle goodbye, leaving him with Hershel, who still keeps sitting there with a soft smile.

"What're you not telling yet?" he asks, narrowing his eyes at Hershel.

"Maybe you should follow her and find out?"

If that's the only answer he's getting, he figures he might as well take the advice. The man knows something, and with the way his family expanded, he suspects one of the three other than Maggie is adding to his grandchild count.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol can't help but laugh at Merle. As much as she yearns for a child of theirs, today's news is just as good. Although only one will be biologically Dixon, they're expecting three new grandchildren, all at once. He shoots her a look that's definitely more pretend disgruntled than legitimately so, before giving her a kiss.

"Andrea's going to have kittens when she hears," Carol tells him. "She was telling me not that long ago she's not ready to be an aunt."

"That might explain why the ladies said to wait to tell the travelers until they get back."

Aside from the risk telling anyone this early on. Carol thinks normally even Merle might not have been told yet by his daughter - and daughters-in-law - if Carol wasn't training as a midwife. Cricket could have had one of the doctors or even Lilly oversee things to keep it a surprise longer, but she's glad she didn't.

"She should have had a clue from how determined Jamie's been to finish that cabin." Carol remembers noting the roof was on the place back when they started the little RV village for the three former prisoners. She suspects in the weeks since, it's nearly finished. Jamie got a lot of helping hands, because everyone knows he's willing to trade his own time in their cabins too.

"Hell, I think the boy would be living in it to finish it if the heat was hooked up." He glances at the clock and levers himself off the couch in their quarters. "Got a story time to attend."

She kisses him as he leaves, still feeling that thrill that months later, he still makes time to read to Sophia. She's not his only audience, because Carol's seen the other teenagers cluster around and absorb the tales as if they were small ones themselves, but the only nights he's missed have been when the kids were having gatherings of their own, or the rare nights he's been out of Homestead.

She's working on the new outfit she's making for Christian, feeling contentedly pleased that she'll have even more babies to sew for soon, when there's a knock at the door. The door's open, but she smiles at Cricket for the courtesy knock.

Her stepdaughter was so happy she just shown with it earlier, but now she's subdued, holding a shoebox in her hands. "Got a minute?"

Carol nods and Cricket sits beside her on the couch, fiddling with the box lid. Rather than press, she waits on the young woman to find the right words.

"Michonne said she mentioned to you that I contacted my mother a few years ago."

"She did. I admit I'm curious, but it didn't seem to be something you wanted to talk about."

"It's not a positive thing for the family, hearing anything about her." Cricket's expression is sad and pensive. "Not even for me, not really, but I got to a point where I needed answers more than I needed to pretend she didn't exist anymore."

"I don't think anyone would blame you for that."

"No, although Dad and Michonne are the only ones who know. But there's something she asked of me that I'm not comfortable being the only one deciding, but I'm not sure Dad's ready for deciding either. I thought maybe you might be a better judge on that, since he's more likely to talk to you than risk upsetting one of us." She slides the lid of the box off, revealing a stack of letters secured together by a rubber band. Those are postmarked, and from the top one, it confirms Michonne's assessment of the contact going back several years. But underneath the bundle are loose letters, which Cricket pulls out of the box and hands to Carol.

Carol absently notes that none of these are postmarked or set up for postal delivery, so they must have come to Cricket in a larger package. Most are thin, probably containing no more than a page or two at most. Those are all addressed to the four children other than Cricket. One thick, heavy envelope is addressed to Merle.

"She told me to give them to them if they ever seemed ready. I haven't read them, but I assume they're explanations or apologies or similar. Maybe like the early letters I had with her. But every time I think they might be close to ready, something happens to tell me I shouldn't." She sighs. "And if the younger two aren't asking questions about her, I don't want to make them start, not really. They've got a mama now and may not ever really wonder."

"May I ask why you did?" It sounds like Cricket wants her help in deciding, and Carol's lost for what criteria would apply to make children seek out an absentee parent with the history Lilliana has.

"I found Dad's album one weekend, when we were packing up to move from the old house to here."

The lingering hurt in her voice makes Carol think on those images and make the same connection she suspects the young woman next to her did. Lilliana changed after Cricket was born.

"What did she tell you?"

"She didn't make excuses, at least, but she did try to explain. And she sent me some of her medical records." Cricket's fingers glide over a thicker envelope in the bottom of the box. "There was part of me that needed to know if it could happen to any of us, to just snap like that. Once you start studying pre-med, you see all sorts of things, mental illnesses, that have onsets at differing ages."

"And hers?" Carol's not entirely sure she wants to know.

"The post-partum thing was likely accurate. Back then, they didn't understand it could go beyond a few early months, and settle in as a long-term illness if untreated. But when she did seek out care, nothing quite fit until she saw a psychiatry professor as part of a study down in Austin at the medical school. He diagnosed her with schizotypal personality disorder, that likely manifested after untreated post-partum depression." She glances to Carol and sees her confusion. "It's considered part of the same spectrum as schizophrenia, because the behaviors can overlap, but she's not subject to hallucinations and delusions. It manifests with social isolation, inability to form personal attachments, distorted thinking, disorganized speech, and flat affect, just to name off the criteria that they use in her medical paperwork. It's usually accompanied by a mood disorder. In her case, that's the ongoing major depressive disorder."

Cricket grimaces, still rubbing the edges of that larger envelope. "The medications they've experimented with over the past ten years reads like a damned pharmaceutical catalog. Anti-depressants, anti-psychotics, whatever trial might help. She's done all the therapies too."

"And has anything helped?" Carol can't imagine what sounds like her predecessor's mind turning on itself, if it's anything like her understanding of schizophrenia itself.

"Here and there. Never enough that she was willing to press the issue of seeing the younger kids with Dad. She felt we were better off... _safer_... without her involved. Said Dad allowed her enough of a safety net without making his life harder."

The thought of feeling that one's family was safer without you sounds terrifying to Carol. Cricket's using that word for a reason, and considering all the pieces she's put together of the chaos of the Dixons' lives after the divorce, she wonders if things would have been different without Will Dixon's attack, or if something else would have spiraled things to a conclusion. She doesn't want to feel empathy toward the woman, but it's there now, just a tiny kernel.

"You think these letters explain that?" She feels as if the lightweight envelopes weight a hundred pounds in her hands.

"I hope so. I should read them, but to be honest, I've been afraid to even consider any of them but the two younger kids. I know so much of the dark parts of the family history that I really haven't wanted to know more. It's cowardly, but sometimes it's just so much. Although my counselor back in Atlanta assures me it's actually healthy to not want to know every last detail."

"I'll talk to your dad about them." Because now that she knows they exist, Carol can't conceive of not letting Merle know they're there. They'll decide it together, but if she has her way, none of them will leave her hands to the children without at least one of them reading them. She'd sooner set herself on fire than hand such an unknown factor out into her still-recovering family. "But why today?"

Cricket replaces the lid on the box and slides one hand to her own very flat stomach. "Because if everything I've read and everyone I talked to can't really tell me why it happened to her, I'm always going to worry about genetics."

Carol sets the letters on the coffee table and tugs her stepdaughter into her arms. "Oh, sweetheart, I promise you, that's not something we'll ever let slide by us, but I pray it's a worry for naught."

Cricket curls into the hug, allowing herself to be comforted.

Imagining warm-hearted, loving Cricket as anything other than who she is now is almost impossible, but Carol means what she says. If this child of her heart needs Carol to be her safety net so that no child of hers ever walks the path of extreme neglect her siblings did, she can do that for her.

~*~ LG ~*~

Lori ended up staying in the cabin today after she spotted the accumulating snowfall, letting Abby go with Carl to play in the snow as long as they could tolerate the cold. He shuffled his sister back after a while up at the community center, bringing an already-made lunch, a grocery restock of supper ingredients, and a stack of DVDs she knew were selected as much for her as the two kids and the pair that trailed in behind them. She's always happy to see Jazz and Sophia, glad the friendship with Carl is still holding strong even with her son's new girlfriend.

For her worries months ago about Carl drifting away from her as he moves into his teen years, he's certainly seeming to do the opposite lately. Rick theorizes he's responding to both of them being happy, something they weren't for far too long.

Despite the snow, Daryl ended up taking two teams out to assess the fence perimeters after eating lunch with them. No one wanted any surprises in infrastructure from snow buildup on the fence lines.

Her afternoon was spent watching television with the kids and combating a particularly pesky round of Braxton Hicks contractions, but thanks to Carl thinking ahead, she has supper underway with Jazz's help when she hears Daryl's distinctive thuds on the porch where he's kicking snow off his boots.

"You staying for supper, Jazz?" she asks. She suspects Carl's hoping as much, considering the quantities he brought, but she's also not sure her son remembered to actually invite the others to stay.

"If you like. Monday's are your family night though, aren't they?"

She supposes it tells her something about the boy's personality that he's more than willing to help her cook a meal he isn't officially invited to eat yet.

"There's enough here for two more. Carl probably would like it if you stayed the night." She's actually a little ashamed of herself that she's never asked the older teenager to stay over with Carl. It's an old habit from when Carl preferred sleepovers at his friends' houses instead of his own.

Daryl's managed to shed his boots and coveralls without getting snow everywhere and adds his two cents. "Ain't any further for you to do your rounds with the sheep if you stay over," he advises. He brushes a kiss across her cheek, grinning when she yelps a little at how damned cold his nose is.

"Alright. I'll grab some clothes when I walk Sophia home."

It's rather sweet that the main house is so close, yet he still insists on escorting his young girlfriend.

"Rick and Rosita will be down in about fifteen minutes. She was checking out how the vehicles handled the snow and roped him into helping her and Jim," Daryl tells her.

She has to laugh a little. Rick is competent at many things, but mechanical skills are not among them. She wishes Rosita luck.

With the potatoes for mashed potatoes boiling, the broccoli and cauliflower steaming, and the wood ear mushroom salad done, she steps back to let Jazz finish the braised rabbit he's got going in the big cast iron skillet. It means Daryl immediately wraps his arms around her when she's clear of the stove.

He murmurs low in her ear. "Just think this time last year, can you imagine you'd be eating rabbit alongside mushrooms your kid helped snag out of the woods and looking forward to it?"

She laughs, knowing it was so far beyond her norm back then that she wouldn't have been able to imagine it. Now the meals they have separate from the big community ones almost always contain something hunted or scavenged by a family member, although that's less often with winter in full swing. The wood ears are some of the ugliest mushrooms cooked up that she's ever seen, but they're so tasty that she even offered Jazz a handful to cook alongside his rabbit. The dehydrator on the counter is something she never would have owned before all this, but now, it's rare to have a day go by without something being preserved in the appliance.

"You go take a seat and we'll finish up," Daryl offers, and she's certainly not turning that down. With seven weeks to go on the pregnancy, she can't decide if she wants it to rush by or slow down. She wants their daughter here and healthy, but after Carl, she can't help but be nervous.

Seven more weeks to answers as to whether or not her body's up for a delivery without surgical assistance.

She pushes that thought away as she gets swarmed by Abby and Sophia, both eager to talk to the baby. At least with all these enthusiastic children around, she never has to sit and make worried kick counts. Asskicker's always happy to live up to her name with her family's encouragement.

~*~ EF ~*~

Eugene slips into the chair at the watch station he's been taking over. He went back on the rotation after Honey left, but taking on the evening shift. Conditions are usually best for late evening contact from the traveling group, so while she may be hundreds of miles away, he usually gets to speak to Honey once a day. He's glad he learned enough Chamorro by the time of the endeavor to return the Fishers to their Virginia home, since it means they can stick to his idea of using a language not just anyone can understand if they happen across the frequency.

He wishes he had been here earlier, when they confirmed safety from the snowstorm, but he is doing his best to keep his promise to Honey that he won't isolate himself without her prodding him along. He can't spend all his time with Rosita; they would both go completely insane, and he's self-aware enough now to acknowledge that. So, he took some of the wealth of engineering related books to the community center and spent the day reading at least among people, even if he initially avoided socialization.

Ironically, the textbooks draw positive interest here. At different times during the day, he had visitors to his table, and various discussions left him with so many ideas of new things to research. He wishes he knew more about ham radio before they left. Now, he's got access to information about using the moon itself to bounce signals, but those now across the border into North Carolina don't have the equipment for the antenna. Everything they packed focused on the repeaters and leaving a trail behind them, but he suspects and fears they'll actually lose contact once they're in Virginia. The texts someone liberated from the amateur radio club the next county over give records of challenges on how far they could get their radios to reach, and while there are some impressive records under the right conditions, he doesn't want to assume it'll happen.

He isn't looking forward to days or even weeks of radio silence, especially at the apex of a trip no one knows how dangerous it might be. So far, luck is holding. He only prays it continues to do so.

He didn't push Honey for a firm commitment to anything before she left. He contented himself with the fact that she spent every single night in his apartment, with or without sex being involved. It's like their routine just shifted a step sideways, with him no longer having to fear her discovering he finds her alluring. Instead of dashes back to her own apartment in the morning to shower, her things collected at his. He didn't want to jinx it by asking just how much of her belongings, if any, were still in the building next door. He's tempted, now, to ask Lydia. The girl would probably tell him.

He didn't get enough time with the freedom to touch her skin. Her scent is faded from the bedding already, that lovely perfume with the vanilla and musk base notes. He was never sure it was her perfume or shampoo until she left the perfume bottle behind in his bathroom. He wonders if it's wrong to mist the spray on the pillow to help him sleep. He suspects she wouldn't mind, but he also knows enough about the chemistry of perfume to know it simply won't smell the same sprayed from the bottle. It'll smell like the berries it does when fresh sprayed.

The radio comes to life and he allows himself to smile as he hears Honey's voice. Oliver just grins and states he's got a call of nature. The older man will give him a few minutes where they can delay the official report and instead just talk a few minutes, even if he sometimes scrambles for vocabulary and has to substitute a Spanish word to Honey's amusement to keep English off the air as much as possible.

This pushes away all the worries and doubts, of the fact that he's not able to travel at her side, but men like Tim and Danny can. Those will return in the depths of the night in his apartment, that she'll realize he's not of the same caliber as they are, but for now, she sounds so happy to hear him reply back that he allows himself hope.


	57. Age is Just a Number

**January 15, 2011**

~*~ AF ~*~

If you told Abraham even a month ago that they would cover over five hundred miles in a week, he would have thought it a sad joke. He can't even lay the blame at Eugene's feet for the admitted delays in their route, because Tim and Honey both admit similar surprise. But the mountain route was a good choice. Few people jammed onto those highways, and the few times something did block their way without any keys present, the reinforced bumper on the M35 relocated it.

He can tell none of them are resting easy even with the two months' worth of food and water along for the ride, because when they have had to stop, they've stripped the vehicles and any nearby buildings of everything of potential use. Going home won't be as fast, with more bodies to keep safe and mouths to feed, but at least they'll be fresh instead of road weary.

The big, overdone signs for Shirewilt Estates are just ahead on the right. He's never liked the exclusive, gated communities, but he admits that nowadays, they're prime real estate in ways their builders never intended. They're west and a little north of Richmond itself, in one of the many suburbs of the city. Noah explained that the community borders the James River on one side, which is why most of the residents stayed. They just reinforced the fence and made sure it went all the way to the water's edge. It's similar to how part of Homestead is set up, although the Dixons don't rely solely on the Etowah for protection the way these folks seem to do the James.

The once pristine and expensive gates are boarded over. No one wants open wrought iron these days. What disturbs Abraham from a security standpoint is twofold: the community is right on a road that was fairly well traveled back during civilization, and there's no sign of a guard. He hopes these folks managed to keep the security cameras he can see going, but Noah isn't optimistic when he asks.

They park in the middle of the main road, letting Noah and his father get out to approach the gate. Michael bangs on the boarded-up structure and looks disgruntled as he examines it. Noah produces a set of keys, much like the ones most of Homestead's team leaders have for the various gates, and proceeds to climb the wrought iron exterior. He perches atop the brick gate post for a minute, being careful like he's been taught at Homestead. He takes the grapple hook from his vest and carefully hooks it on the outside of the gate before using the thin rope to descend out of sight.

A minute later, the gates open to a frowning teenager who retrieves his grapple hook and rope before walking with his father back to the waiting vehicles. "I can't believe there's no one reacting to us being at the gate. I guess they ran out of fuel for the generators to keep the electric going, but it wouldn't be that hard to station a guard up here. All this fence keeps out is walkers and animals."

Abraham thinks it over. There are no signs of walkers, which is good, and sitting idling like it is, the M35 engine is definitely an attractant when they need to know if an area is infested. Tim slides out of the rear driver's side of the dually and walks back. "Not sure I want to take the vehicles in til we know for sure it's still their people in here."

It's a reality everyone knows these days. Just because Noah's key still works in the padlock doesn't mean the residents are still the same. Terminus is a lesson they never want to experience again.

He keys the handhelds they carry for group communication. "Gear up with body armor too. Tim, take Noah, so any natives know you're friendly, and he's more able than Michael. Honey, Elias, and Augustus too. Christopher and Danny, see if you can raise Homestead on radio." This morning they made contact, but it was sporadic and static-filled.

Honey and Elias exit the bus, with Andrea sliding out of his passenger seat to run back and take the driver seat of the bus. It's not a method he thought to use on the trip up from Texas, but the driver doesn't leave the vehicle stance works well. Danny climbs into the back of the dually, raising the radio antenna up. The four designated to enter the gated community simply tug off their vests to don the tan body armor vests over their BDUs, and the big dog is already wearing his protective gear. It takes them from looking like they might be on a redneck hunting trip to looking military, although the combat vests going back on softens it a little to his eyes. They drop helmets over their balaclavas, although at least no one has to add extra weaponry. Even seventeen-year-old Noah is already well-armed.

Once throat mics are all in place, Tim leads his small team into the neighborhood. They've all studied the map Noah drew from memory, so now it's just a matter of hoping the folks behind these walls are the same ones the Fisher men left behind.

The half-grown dog left behind stays on alert even as he reaches out to scratch his ears. This has been a training trip for Oso, learning from Augustus about an entirely different way of life than the hunting work the dogs were bred for. He's glad to have them both along, because he thinks having dogs along on his own trip would have made life a lot safer.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol looks around the kitchen at her assembled helpers and smiles. Merle's forty-seventh birthday was two days ago, on the thirteenth, but with Christian's birthday on the seventeenth, he asked to split the difference and share a birthday meal with the baby. It makes sense, especially since the baby's not likely to remember the event, but the proud grandfather will.

She's ever so grateful for the root cellars that the Eldridges had the foresight to dig, because their farm was set up to sell larger quantities to Atlanta area restaurants and farmers markets. Even their community of two hundred or so can't eat everything in season if it's not stored, and although they canned and freeze dried in quantities that make Carol still boggle at, being able to store some of the vegetables - and the bushels upon bushels of apples - was an amazing time saver. She knows their root cellars are far more high-tech than those of the original European settlers of Georgia, with thermometers, hygrometers, and ventilation systems to regulate temperature.

She's also learned a lot, such as apples need to be stored separately from the vegetables because they'll cause them to go bad faster and that many vegetables need to be stored in sand. It means the kids who go on retrieval duty for the kitchens treat about half the task as a treasure hunt with the big, flat sandboxes on shelving.

It also means that when she asked Merle about the menu, he just shrugged and said whatever needs to be used up. She honestly suspects after a childhood of food deprivation and time spent deployed with the Marines, the man would literally eat anything set in front of him, and other than a strong preference for the peppermint tea his kids inherited, he doesn't have any real favorites.

Shane's crockpot of cabbage rolls is already present, brought up about an hour ago and not quite finished cooking. He volunteered, saying he wanted to teach Anaya. She suspects the recipe is a family one, much like the cake recipe he gave her for his wedding.

Jazz brought her up a freshly dressed lamb yesterday, so she spent a lot of study time figuring out how to cook the various cuts of meat, although realistically, about half of it went into the freezer downstairs. Thankfully, the big grill outside comes in handy, even if Daryl is doing a bit of a shiver dance out there checking on the chops and flank steaks. The crown rack is nearly done, so she checks on the rest of the menu, all in other people's hands.

Sophia and Beth are very carefully icing a multi-layered cake they've dubbed their "Neapolitan" by topping a strawberry sheetcake first a chocolate sheetcake and then vanilla. The entertaining part of their careful creation is that they're trying to ice the giant cake to look like the ice cream it's inspired by. Snow gathered from the snowstorm earlier in the week was made into ice cream just for tonight to go with the cake.

Jazz is glazing rutabagas and carrots in two big cast iron skillets to produce enough for the crowd. Bringing in the Dixons and 'adjacent Dixons', as Honey dubs them, means a crowd that Carol still sometimes has to blink about the size of it. She checks on the lentils bubbling away in the mushroom gravy and hopes what feels like an odd combination to her tastes as good as it smells. Nothing that's come out of Jazz's purple recipe binder has failed to taste lovely so far, so she's looking forward to the new experience.

That probably applies to the sweet potato biscuits in the second oven as well, although those were Maggie's contribution.

She hopes the baby enjoys the food part of the evening too, although typically, if a food is on his mothers' plates or Merle's, he'll find it tasty. He's a sweet baby and Carol enjoys spending time with him, but he's definitely a grandpa's boy.

"Everything smells so good in here it makes me wish I could cook," Amy comments.

Carol turns and smiles. "Well, if you want to learn, you have your pick of teachers."

"Maybe offer some classes down at the center?" she suggests. "I'm sure I wasn't the only one who lived on cups of noodles and anything else the microwave could produce. The big meals are nice and convenient, but it'd be nice to be able to be more than veggie prep on days like today."

Carol consults her mental calendar and realizes that although it's in June, she imagines Amy might like to help cook Jamie's birthday meal when the time comes. Maybe Dale's too, since that's sooner.

"Let me look at the schedule and talk to our resident cooks and see who all might volunteer a free afternoon here and there. It's a good suggestion."

~*~ AF ~*~

Abraham has to wait for Christopher to translate, although from the expression the nurse and Danny both wear, Honey's said something derogatory in her mother's native tongue.

The blonde laughs, but shakes his head. "Loosely translated, she says it's a good thing God looks after fools and young children, because otherwise, these people wouldn't still be alive. But Noah's family's here, so we're clear to move in."

Michael Fisher looks relieved enough to cry, and Abraham can't blame him. He's been away from his wife and younger sons for months and nearly died of a disease barely known in the modern world. He's surprised the man was so patient about being held outside the gates.

"Let Homestead know." Whatever interference occurred earlier passed or they routed around, because the signal was clear as Tim's group departed. "Load up and head in. I'll bring up the rear and lock the gate behind us."

Danny waits in the back of the dually long enough for Christopher to relay the message and that they'll do their usual report at nightfall. He lowers the antenna and displays the limberness of youth by dropping into the passenger rear seat through the window.

Christopher leads the way down the long lane into the community. Either side of the road is set up as a park and sports area, similar to other planned communities like this that Abraham's seen before. Those areas are overgrown now, with no homeowner's association paying a groundskeeper. He sighs. Open area like that should have been turned into a garden, but he doubts many of these folks have that sort of skill, unless it's with flowers. The road forks into three as they see their first houses.

At least it's not one of the cookie cutter McMansion places. There's a good variety in housing style, both one and two-story, and each house has at least an acre around it. They come to a stop five houses down on the right-hand road, where their own people wait alongside six others. Augustus is sitting relaxed at Honey's feet.

Before he steps out of truck, he waits for Tim's signal, trusting the ex-sniper's Army-trained paranoia most.

"Why dontcha come say hello, Abraham?" Tim calls out.

He's proud that neither of the other drivers exit without that greeting too.

Introductions go easy enough. Paula and thirteen-year-old twins Jacob and Mark Fisher are all overwhelmed by the return of family members thought gone forever. They're joined by neighbors from the left side of their house, Tiffany and Jennifer Morris, and the neighbor from across the street, Corey Mitchell.

They've adapted more than he thought here, even if they aren't utilizing maximum space. He can see evidence amid the nearly gone snow that suburban lawn was turned into family-sized gardens, at least. Paula Fisher even has an outdoor kitchen built in the remains of her front yard. It seems to be shared with the nearest neighbors.

As Paula invited them in to get out of the crisp winter air, Abraham assigns Andrea and Danny to watch. The bus is adapted with a solar powered heater like an RV, so a camp chair by the rear door serves as a watch post. Andrea pops in without even a grimace. Danny slides into the driver's seat of the dually, well used to watch shifts from prior months on the road. With the solar powered batteries mounted in the truck bed, he can even run the tiny portable heater in the cab without burning through fuel.

"It's quite safe here," one of the neighbors says.

He shrugs, trying not to let his critical opinion of the fact that none of them are carrying so much as a knife show. "Procedure is procedure. Keeps us alive."

Although puzzled, they accept what they see as an eccentricity.

Even inside, he's assessing the layout and exits, as do the others. Even Noah shows an awareness he didn't expect in the boy's own home. As Michael summarizes the time away, he does see a little wariness appear, but it's the sort he's used to from people with protected lives. Surely such awful things won't happen to them, not here.

The selfish side of him sort of hopes only the Fishers agree to go back to Georgia. This looks like a lot of babysitting to come.

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle grins at the huge slab of cake on the plate Sophia is presenting. He's glimpsed the girls' creation due to the open floor plan, but apparently, his birthday means he gets a slice big enough to qualify as its own cake.

Then again, he does have a cake eating buddy, because they're sticking a single sparkler candle in the cake. Christian squeals and bounces in his lap. Merle spares a brief thought that they should have done this in a kitchen chair before the plate is placed on the TV tray in front of him just as the sparkler candle reaches its end.

The baby claps, delighted with the show, and Sophia plucks the candle away just in time for Christian to nab a handful of the strawberry section to smoosh into his own face.

Merle considers joining him in the messy eating, just for the hell of it, but opts for the fork instead. Once the baby sees him eating with a utensil, he goes all baby bird to be fed. Cake's being shared around now to the rest of the family and the girls rightfully complimented for their work.

The kids have always made a big deal out of the day, but this is amped up due to all the new additions. Full of good food and sweet cake, he motions for Carol to lean in for a kiss.

It doesn't surprise him when he can see the room again to see his son tucking his camera away. He reminds himself to ask for a print of that one.

His birthday buddy stays tucked close even once the cake remains are spirited away, yawning and using Merle for a pillow. He thinks this may be his favorite birthday yet, even if like always, one of his children is away on a mission, and there's a stack of letters from Lilliana hiding in a desk drawer that he still doesn't feel like tackling.

~*~ EF ~*~

Eugene is waiting to slip away after the cake, anxious to be near the watch room for the evening report from the travelers. He thought Rosita was teasing him, when she first told him he was invited, but then Carol herself made sure he attended by subbing someone in on his watch shift. Since several of her family have made a point to drift by him at different parts of the day each day since she left, he isn't sure if Honey asked them to, or they're just doing it because from what he can tell, the Dixon definition of family is a rather flexible one. Honey's roommate Lydia was there, as well as Rick and Rosita, and Tara's sister and her family. It's puzzling, but he doesn't want to ask, because he isn't yet sure if he'd be happy or embarrassed Honey cared enough to ask them to keep him occupied.

Spending time with Jazz finally allowed him to realize that while on the surface, the teenager's Asperger's isn't obvious, he's got enough traits in common with Eugene that he wishes someone cared enough when he was younger to seek out similar services for him. Although some of the differences are due to advances in understanding in the fifteen-year difference between their formative years, he can't imagine either of his parents being as involved as Jazz's family obviously is.

He's happily explaining the chemistry of the teenager's cheesemaking to the other teenagers present, who are far more attentive than any high school student he taught in the last five years. He doesn't realize he's got an additional audience until Cricket clears her throat.

"Eugene? How much do you know about chemistry past high school classes?" she asks.

"I obtained two undergraduate degrees and one graduate degree before I was recruited to teach in the local school district because I was bilingual in Spanish and that was a skill combination in short supply even for Texas."

Cricket looks thoughtful, and he reminds himself that she's the woman whose graduate level education was interrupted by the global crisis. "Are all your degrees in chemistry?"

"One of the undergraduate and the postgraduate degree are. I obtained an undergraduate degree and a graduate degree in Chemical Engineering at Rice University in Houston, with a specialty in Materials Science and Engineering. It was one of my graduate school professors who introduced me to the idea of teaching instead of working in a laboratory." He'll always be puzzled that Professor Simmons thought him better suited for a life among people, especially young people, instead of among sterile lab equipment, but despite the irony of someone with his social skills teaching, he did enjoy the job with the occasional awkward child like himself to mentor.

"I thought teachers had to have a teaching degree," Sophia says.

"In many cases, if someone knows they want to become a teacher from the beginning, yes, they enroll in an education related program for their subject matter. But as I never considered the profession as a viable one for myself as a younger man, I enrolled in a program for alternative teacher certification. After a number of classes and field experience, I passed a subject content and a teaching methods exam given by the state and was given a paid internship in a school district for a year and at the end earned my standard teaching certificate instead of a probationary one."

"And your other degree?" He thinks the girl asking is Isabelle, but he's not as familiar with the children not directly related to Honey. "Wasn't it hard to get so many?"

"Geochemistry. I had originally intended to perhaps work in the petroleum industry, which as you know, is one of the primary employers in Texas, especially Houston. There are overlaps among the classes, such as both degrees requiring the same calculus classes and mechanics class. The graduate degree was the easier part, because it was designed by the university to be a logical extension of the first degree's curriculum."

The younger teenagers look a little confused, but Cricket's nodding thoughtfully, and so are Jazz and one of the older boys.

"I thought about similar but instead compressed my classes to finish my undergraduate in three years instead of four."

"With so many years of medical school and training ahead of you, I am not surprised that speeding along the lesser needed undergraduate years would be appealing." He manages a smile for the more confused youngsters. "It was difficult, some semesters, but I was wary of having to be in the real world, as adults like to drone on about when you are in middle and high school. So, taking additional college courses seemed a way to both be over prepared and delay the worry about such things."

That makes sense to all of them, at least, based on the smiles that appear. Adults harping on about the 'real world' is a universal constant, he supposes.

"Anyway, the reason I asked is that it sounds like you really do have a lot stronger grasp of laboratory chemistry than I picked up in rushing through college. How familiar are you with the process for how insulin was developed?"

It seems a very specific question, and Eugene thinks back to his organic chemistry classes and some of the side reading he did as subjects interested him. "I've read about it. They were awarded a Nobel Prize for the effort. Dr. Banting even outlined the process in his Nobel Prize speech."

"Could you remember enough of that process to start some experiments?"

The pointed questions leads him to understand there must be a diabetic - or more than one - among the populace, and while their pharmacy is remarkably well stocked, he understands insulin to be one of those medications that can't sit around for years waiting to be used. It's been years since he read the lecture in question, but he isn't sure he remembers enough of the details for something that's a life-saving medication. He shakes his head.

"It would be highly likely that any medical school would have copies of such a speech in their library collections," he suggests instead.

If it were any other subject, he might call the expression on Cricket Dixon's face a predatory gleam as she trots off to snag her sister and brother-in-law.

"I suspect a trip to Atlanta just got added to the roster," Jazz says.

Eugene suspects he's right.

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle stretches out relaxed and reading, entertained as always by the number of books that his children resort to for birthday gifts. Those were given on his actual birthday, so he's actually about halfway through the first one and enjoying it.

"You know, back at the quarry, when Sophia first told me you were reading together, I honestly didn't believe her," Carol says. She's working a crossword puzzle herself, with occasional questions to him about the clues.

"I don't expect I gave anyone the impression of being literate at the time." Ironically, the books Daryl kept dumping in his tent, purloined from the nearby city library branch, were one of the few things other than Daryl and Sophia that gave him a leash to reality. He still has all of them, kept as a reminder of the rough detour he took.

She laughs softly. "Oh, you had to be literate. Some of the arguments you had with Andrea, especially, showed a vocabulary well beyond a high school education. I think that's what kept setting her off about you. She didn't expect you to be able to counter her, and you could do it even when obviously high."

"Guess that did irritate her for a good long time." Despite Amy's engagement to Jamie and months of working alongside Merle giving him a good relationship with the younger Harrison sister, the former lawyer is still standoffish. Since she's not among the women close to - or important to - Carol, he honestly doesn't care about the blonde's opinion of him. If it were Jacqui still maintaining a strong distance, that would be a problem he might need to resolve.

"Which book are you reading?" Carol asks, leaning into his shoulder to peer at the page. "You've devoured that thing."

He chuckles. "_Rocket Boys_. Jazz's pick, and apparently there's a movie they're trying to track down." He flips the book to let her read the back cover.

"Well, I can see his reasoning. Maybe you aren't an engineer, but you do parallel the poor small-town boy to success idea."

"Considered it for a while, you know."

"Becoming an engineer?" She sounds intrigued.

"Once I had the money to take the classes, yeah. But by then, I really liked the hands-on of the construction field. Seemed like the engineers I've dealt with over the years for projects spent more time indoors and not enough getting to see their creations become reality. And I sure didn't want to ever work for the local or state government."

She giggles. "I can't see you managing the red tape of being part of the governmental system of employees."

"I would've been fired in the first week, you mean." He grins at her.

"Probably. Instead, you ended up with your own business, so it's an example now for the children and teenagers that they can figure things out without a classroom to sit in. Don't think I haven't noticed the number of the teens that ask for extra building shifts or spend their days off with your crews."

The teens spending time with the builders isn't just him and Amy passing on skills. They're picking up a lot from Henry, whose community college professorship in plumbing comes in really handy now, Gage is teaching the skills he picked up in his industrial maintenance program at community college, and Tyreese is one of the best roofers Merle's ever met. "If Noah does come back with our folks, we need to add him as a formal apprentice. He's spending enough time between Amy and I now that we might as well make it official."

She reaches for her notebook and makes the note, before stacking her crossword puzzle book on top of it and stealing his book via a distracting kiss that definitely spells intent.

"I do believe you already gave me a birthday present, Mrs. Dixon," he drawls, but reaches to pull her in anyway. The past days of reduced outdoor duties have been a sort of mini-honeymoon for them, and he certainly hasn't been feeling that one year closer to fifty his calendar age now states.

It's telling how young being happy makes you feel.


	58. Midnight Invaders

**January 19, 2011**

~*~ AF ~*~

Abraham's thumped awake by Honey as she uses the emergency roof exit to get to the top of the bus. "Invaders, at least seven or eight."

She's activating her radio with the emergency buzz even as she disappears. He doesn't wait for more information, just shoves his feet in his boots and yanks the laces tight before grabbing his gun.

She must have her radio stuck to broadcast because she's reporting in even as he hears the sharp crack of her rifle firing above him.

"Seeing at least eight invaders and there's no way they're friendlies, coming in the dark. Got eyes on the west. Christopher, cover the gate."

Abraham isn't the only one using the vehicles for cover as he assesses his best aim. He can see Tim on top of the camper, moving his rifle into position. Honey's rifle cracks two more times, as he hears two shots from Christopher's position. He spots movement on the ground and fires himself, but it's just a shoulder wound, so the asshole gets back up. One of the rifles ends his efforts before Abraham fired again.

The familiar timewarp of battle sets in. He's not sure how much time has passed before there are no more gunshots. Movement in the house behind him has him shouting for the civilians to stay inside.

At his orders, they pair off to search the property, leaving Andrea on watch as the least hand-to-hand combat ready.

He and Honey head straight for the gate with Augustus at their heels. Tim leads Christopher to check the east and Danny and Elias check the west. Oso follows Christopher.

Augustus alerts them before they can hear the idling vehicle. The light of the full moon illuminates the big van as if it were under a spotlight.

"No telling what they got in the van, or who," he cautions. She nods, tilting her head in the way that reminds him just how much training the girl has.

"I can make the shot from here. Probably won't be a kill shot, not through the glass."

He gives the order for her to take it. The rifle's crack is loud and he radios out they took out a getaway driver. When no one moves from the van, he approaches carefully.

The driver is gasping for air, choking on his own blood from the chest wound. Abraham relieves him of the gun he's made no effort to draw and takes the van keys.

It's then he can hear the growling of walkers and realizes what's in the van.

"Don't touch any of the rear doors, Honey. They brought pet walkers."

She nods and opens the passenger door, levering up to peer through the grate, completely ignoring the blood spatter in the cab.

"These are some seriously sick bastards. Mutilated walkers," she reports.

Abraham smiles viciously and sets to questioning their captive.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

Jesus's mind is running scenarios one after another in how to get himself out of this situation. One or two men, even with guns, he can manage those odds and has. But this is three men, gone the special kind of crazy that seems to affect anyone outside secure walls. He's stuck on his knees at gunpoint and cursing his own inattentiveness.

Before he can just take the risk that he can use the man closest to him as a shield, he hears the rumble of approaching vehicles. His captors are smarter than he gave them credit for, since their guns don't waiver.

The first vehicle passes them, one of those big crew cab trucks. A patchwork of weirdness is next, with what looks like some sort of living quarters on the back of a military vehicle. It pulls mostly past and stops behind the crew cab as it halts. The third vehicle is a heavily modified bus. Based on the modifications on all three, they're well-versed at being on the road.

The bus doors open and the driver emerges. Jesus doesn't think the girl looks old enough to drive. She's looking at them curiously, and the odd sight of a girl in a light jacket over a shirt emblazoned with 'I'm only talking to my dog today' over some kind of heavy duty cargo pants actually distracts one of the men enough to drop his gun arm completely and another to partially relax. Only the one he pegs as the leader still holds steady aim at Jesus's head.

"Oh, my, he's a right pretty one," she exclaims in a much deeper Southern accent than Jesus is used to. "Did he do something that needs all the guns or would you consider a trade?"

She's got to be completely insane, because she steps partially between him and them reaching out to tug his toboggan cap off and inspecting his face.

Even the leader is baffled. "What do you mean, girl?"

"Well, if he's dangerous, I wouldn't have any use for him. But he is quite pretty, even with the beard. I like pretty, you see."

She waves toward the bus, where a young man is sitting on the bus steps. He's as casually dressed as the girl and sips from a plastic bottle of Pepsi. Jesus has to admit pretty does describe the man, not that he should be noticing at a time like this.

"What do you want to trade for him?"

Fuck. The guy's actually considering it. Just when he thinks the world can't get any crazier.

"What are you more interested in, food or bad habits? Or a little of both?"

"What kinda bad habits? You got whiskey?" The man who completely lowered his gun is peering interestedly toward the bus.

"Coupla kinds. Makes good trading. Whatcha like best?"

"Got any Jack?"

She flicks her fingers at the man on the bus steps and he disappears and reappears with an actual case of whiskey, lifting one of the bottles above the box top to show it's a bottle of Jack Daniels.

"It's not all those bottles, just eight. Rest is the flavored Jack," the girl explains.

The leader's gun arm is relaxing. "Why they got you negotiating?"

"Oh, sweetie, they're my protective escort. I do the negotiating on trades and they keep me safe, or my daddy'll make being eaten by the dead ones look like an easy death."

The first one who spoke grins as if he's figured it all out. "They's gypsies, Hank. 'Member how the sheriff ran that caravan outta town two years ago? Woman did all the talkin' then too."

Jesus doesn't think the assessment is correct, but he isn't speaking up. If you go with the Hollywood stereotype, maybe. But after she tucks his toboggan back on his head, she puts her hands on her hips and the shift of her jacket shows a bulge at her back that's definitely a gun.

"He's gotta be worth more than a case of whiskey," the leader ventures. "Thought gypsies only wanted babies and children."

"Likely so. Full grown too, which is a blessing in this day and age. Got scavenged medicines, coffee, duct tape, batteries, flashlights, and hard candies."

"Peppermints?" The third one, the one who hasn't spoken, looks interested now.

"How about a box the size of the liquor one, all of the above? Smokes too, if you got any."

She makes another motion with her hand and the helper sits the liquor down on the pavement and disappears. He returns with a sports duffle full of the suggested items and a second duffle he slides the box of liquor into.

The leader shoves his gun in his waistband and inspects the goods. Jesus could probably escape at this point, since very little attention is being paid to him. His curiosity is how he ends up 'purchased' for two duffels of supplies.

The three men move off, snickering when she steps back to his side and lays a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Just hold tight a little longer, pretty boy," she says softly. "You don't want to know what their group does with captives."

He thinks the marks carved into their foreheads do indicate serious imbalance, but he's not certain his young rescuer is an improvement yet.

"What are you waiting for?" he asks, just as quietly.

The sound of a rifle cracks three times in succession in the crisp morning air.

"That. You're free to go, pretty boy. Try not to have any wolves grab you up again." She offers him a hand up. "Or if you want to ride along a while, there's safety in numbers."

She's only half paying attention to him, since there's a man in full military gear trotting out of the woods with the duffels from before and the three men's backpacks. He hesitates to just leave and no one shoos him away as she and the new guy shuffle through the backpack contents.

"Got a map," the guy says, passing it to the girl.

She skims over it and nods before looking to Jesus. "You want any of this? Payment for those assholes holding you at gunpoint?"

He figures what the hell. Part of him is wary, because she conned those men before having them executed. But based on them looking for a map more than the loot itself, they're pursuing some sort of vendetta, he thinks. So, he sorts through the contents of the packs and helps himself, avoiding the knives, guns, and ammo.

His buyer (savior?) takes the map to the driver of the weirdly modified military truck. He can't hear the conversation from here.

"She meant it, that you're free to go," the pretty man from earlier says. He offers a hand. "I'm Danny."

"Most call me Jesus these days." He takes the hand, thinking in another time and place, he would definitely be interested.

Danny chuckles. "Can see why, with the hair and beard."

"You're tracking their group?"

"They attacked a community of mostly women and kids in the middle of the night. We got enough information out of one of them to head this direction. Luckily they're stupid enough to identify themselves clearly."

The guy in military gear scoffs. "Morons think they're wolves in human form. Stupid don't begin to describe it." He scoops what's left after Jesus's selections into the largest backpack before taking the clothing and sleeping bags to chuck back inside the tree line.

"Not enough disinfectant in the world to salvage that," Danny explains.

He agrees. He's ripe himself after a week on the road this recruiting trip with only baby wipe 'baths', but those three made portapotties in August smell better. "She mean it, about riding along?" he asks. He wants to know more about this group before revealing Hilltop's existence.

"Yeah. Don't know if you've got people to get back to, but warm ride's better than a cold walk."

"Y'all headed north still?"

"We're circling back south. Getting close enough to dark to not want to be out in the open." It's the girl again, returning from her discussion. "You can get a hot meal and a shower, safe place to sleep for the night."

"You're being awfully trusting of me, considering how you treated them." It is concerning, from that point of view.

"They already spent any chances by being a Wolf," she says, shrugging. "Tim, you riding up front again?"

The military guy shakes his head and the glance toward Jesus tells him why. He shoulders his rifle and heads onto the bus. Danny settles into the driver's seat and the girl motions for him to precede her onto the bus.

There isn't much in the way of seating as he slides into the empty front seat on the side away from the driver. She strides past Tim, in the third row of seats, and past the final, fifth row to snag a couple things off the shelving in the back. She drops three MRE packages and two water bottles in his lap before taking a seat behind the driver.

"If you're not hungry, stash it in your bag. If you are, can't go wrong with the chili mac or pork rib."

"He says they call him Jesus," the driver calls back over his shoulder. She nods and leans forward to snag the guy's Pepsi and drink from it before returning it

She smiles at him. "I expect that's along the lines that everyone calls me Honey."

"Where is your group from?" Her accent is Deep South, but Danny's is Boston by his best guess. He didn't hear enough of Tim to really determine anything other than it didn't match the other two. But here, not so far from Washington, DC, he can't be really surprised at the variety.

"Georgia, mostly. Escorted some friends home to their family and figured on being on the way back home by now, but then the Wolves decided that little community was free game."

"They aren't the only ones like that around."

"Well, there's at least fifteen less to prey on the weaker folks of Virginia." Her expression is resolute, none of the youthful cheerfulness she displayed for Jesus's captors left.

He glances back to Tim, but the man's absorbed in cleaning his rifle.

He's still not sure he should tell these people about Hilltop, but if they're telling the truth about taking down the predators, at least Hilltop is that much safer.

He'll stick with them a while longer.

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle leans against the table as most of the council trails out to go to supper. "Makes me wish we sent more people," he says to Shane.

His son-in-law agrees. "At least everyone who went is skilled. Hopefully the information the captives gave is accurate on their numbers and location."

He sure hopes so. Being woken in the night for a report from their travelers is not an experience he wants to repeat. At least their people aren't lax in security, so much so that they took out over half the invading force within minutes. Those Wolves never expected any resistance of that type.

"If it wouldn't likely be done and over with by the time they arrived, I would send a team up."

"Hell, I'd lead it." He glances at the younger man, who shrugs. "It's Honey."

Merle chuckles. He supposes that explains most of it. They might face a problem of an all-Dixon team if they sent one now. Would Virginia survive turning Carol loose? "If the intel's right about the group being less than thirty, they're at least halfway through already."

"I'll be completely surprised if they haven't cleared the infestation completely within two days."

"I just hope those idiots appreciate it. Can't believe they resisted the idea of leaving until they got attacked." Part of him wishes their people simply packed up the Fisher family and returned, but considering the children at Shirewilt, he supposes he understands. It's the same concept that led them to stay in the quarry and to rescue Terminus.

"Honestly, it's enough to make me wish we could play CPS and just bring the kids and leave the idiot adults to their own fate."

"Don't think we need to add kidnapping to our repertoire."

Shane just smirks and pushes himself to his feet. "We don't show to supper soon, we may not get any."

"As if either of our wives would let that happen."

He follows Shane out of the meeting room, mind miles away in Virginia. He knows they won't have all the details until their people come home, but knowing his daughter was the watch stander that alerted Shirewilt to the invaders, he supposes now they have their answer about whether or not she's got the mindset of a sniper.

The two on watch took down half of the dozen before the rest were in position to help. He won't rest easy until she's home and he can see for himself how she's coping.

Scout and Honey are most like him in the aspect of seeing the grim reality of the world. Sometimes he wishes they weren't.

But in this world, at least it means they'll survive.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

Freshly showered and in loaner clothes while his dry, Jesus takes a seat in an offered camp chair near the firepit. The temperature is dropping, but not so far that sitting around the fire is uncomfortable yet. Two of the Georgia group are on watch and two truly massive dogs are on patrol around the area.

He didn't meet the dogs until they arrived in Shirewilt because they were riding in other vehicles. It's an idea no one he's met in the apocalypse has tried, using dogs for protection. He wonders if those men today would have snuck up on him so easily with a dog, but a canine might not get out of some of the fixes he's gotten into.

Honey sits next to him, returning from reporting in to her people back home. He's picked up enough tidbits of information between the travelers and the Shirewilt residents to know that there really is a father to report to, just not one threatening her companions.

"All good on the home front?" Abraham asks.

"Yeah. They had some debate about sending some reinforcements, but think we'll be done before they might arrive. But if we spy out a larger group than expected, they'll send a couple of teams up."

"I vote we ask for your mama and turn her loose on these folks," Elias mutters.

"I'm sure she'll be part of one of the teams if they do."

"Are they wanting to stay here?" Jesus asks. He can see at least a dozen issues with a population the size of the one here trying to hold a property this large. It has potential, especially with the river, but the fences have already proved inadequate.

"Despite our example of traveling safely, they don't believe us." Honey shrugs. "And some of us were on the road before, too. Winter seems to slow the walkers down a little. The best we can do for the ones who won't go is good supplies and Wolf hunting."

"How many are going?" He's curious as to why people with few survival skills wouldn't jump at the chance.

"Seventeen are going. Fourteen want to stay."

"Do you think they might travel if some place were closer?" He thinks about Hilltop and how they really need more people just for basic survival. Gregory doesn't entirely agree, but he isn't going to be the one getting his hands dirty with food production and supply runs.

"I'm guessing you have something in mind?" That comes from the burly redhead that leads the group.

"An old FEMA camp about eighty miles northwest of here. The government pulled out, but the refugees already there kept it together. Built a better fence, put in crops, gathered up livestock."

"They have room for over a dozen more?"

"Just about. Could maybe take up to twenty, if some don't want to make the trip south with a closer alternative. Biggest problem is going to be food til spring." It was the only point Gregory made that he could acknowledge as legitimate. Allies for trade are as important as new residents. It worked out finding that group with the flamboyant king and the one out on the Bay. If Hilltop refuses them, maybe one of the others will be reasonable.

Several of the Georgia folks exchange looks, but Honey's the one who smiles. "Point out a warehouse you haven't been able to access and we'll acquire the supplies."

"Acquire." Tim snorts. "First time I laid eyes on her, she 'acquired' an entire loaded Walmart semi-truck and drove it without a single lesson."

"It's not that different from a tractor, geez."

Jesus joins in the laughter. At least this is a group where his resourceful nature isn't a sore point.

"It was a tidy solution," Abraham explains. "Instead of loading and unloading small trucks, the semis just drop off trailers to be unloaded at leisure. Hard part is loading the damned things sometimes."

"Just how big is your community?" he asks, baffled. Hilltop is good-sized community, the middle-sized one of the ones he knows. They're just short of a hundred residents.

"About two hundred, so far. Plus, all the babies on the way."

Honey's casual reply startles him. "Babies?" No one at Hilltop has risked a pregnancy, not even with one of their two doctors being an obstetrician. Hell, their obstetrician is one of the strongest advisors against it.

She nods. "One of our women had a baby on Christmas Eve. Another is due in February and two more in March. I'm sure there will be more later in the year, with all the new couples. And we rescued a baby, too late to save his mama."

"And your medical staff is okay with deliberate pregnancies?" Maybe they don't have any.

"Well, they kind of had to be with the first four pregnancies, since they predate the community. But life goes on, even with the world as it is. We've got doctors and nurses and my mother training as a midwife."

One of the other men speaks up. "There are issues we can't treat now, but that was true before the world ended too. And without doctors overdoing the process as if pregnancy is a disease, they'll be better off."

"Christopher is one of our nurses, although he doesn't find life as exciting in our little hospital as working as a field medic," Honey explains.

"And if women don't want babies?" he asks. Condom requests are among the highest he has.

"Birth control is available. We've got staff who know how to handle IUDs, implants, and the depo shot. Plus, I think they liberated most of northern Georgia's birth control pill supply, although it'll expire soon and be a bit of a risk to take."

He makes a mental note to find out why those sorts of options aren't part of the medication list he's been sent after. Not needing to be concerned with women's reproductive health before, he just assumed the meds would go bad, like insulin, or the pills Honey indicated would expire.

Babies, huh. He kind of wishes he could see that. There are children at Hilltop, but none below school age.

Maybe if Hilltop is stable enough next winter, he can explore long enough to visit their southern neighbors.

Christopher yawns. "Gonna get some sleep before watch. Coming?"

Jesus notes the comment is to Tim, who nods and takes the nurse's hand and follows him. None of the others seem to bat an eye at the two men holding hands and he relaxes a fraction more among these people.

It doesn't go unnoticed. "Is where you live not open-minded about relationships?" Honey asks.

"The subject honestly hasn't come up." He has his suspicions though, especially with Gregory.

She arches a brow. "From what I understand, from both Christopher and my sister, if that's the case, you already suspect it won't be welcome."

"It has always been a chancy issue in the South, as you probably know. The smaller population just makes it riskier."

She surprises him by reaching out to wrap a hand around his bicep and squeezing gently. "Maybe you should reconsider the risks you take for a community that can't accept who you are."

He sighs and doesn't answer. Hilltop needs someone like him to balance out Gregory's arrogance.

"Just think about it, while you've got alternatives," Honey says, before yawning hard enough to cramp her jaw, causing the others to laugh. "You're welcome to a bunk in the camper."

He nods and follows Honey when she rises and climbs into the weird cabover camper hybrid. The men who left are already in the cabover bed. She indicates the upper bunk in the slideout, toeing off her boots carefully to leave them available for easy access in an emergency. He follows suit and takes the top bunk.

Honey stretches out on the dinette bed and yawns. He does a mental count of the people as he hears the two left outside extinguish the fire. Only one of them enters, Elias, and he crawls into the bunk below Jesus. He supposes Abraham must sleep elsewhere, although he can't see the big guy curling up in the truck cab. He hopes he isn't taking the man's bed, although he can't really see him fitting. The bunk is a tight fit for Jesus.

He goes to sleep easier than he expects, waking when Honey and Christopher leave for watch and Andrea and Danny take over the dinette bed. The next watch shuffle also wakes him as Tim vacates the cabover bed and he and Christopher share an affectionate kiss.

Honey catches him watching and surprises him by reaching out to cup his cheek. It's the first time she actually encounters his skin, fingertips brushing his cheek above the beard. He shivers a little, especially when she has to step in closer to let Tim pass by her.

Her smile is compassionate and he wonders what it says about how touch starved he is that it's obvious to this girl. She smooths his hair as if he were a child, deliberately brushing her fingers over the shell of his ear. He warm touch almost burns as she returns to rest her palm against the side of his face.

"Get some sleep. It's safe here." Before he can respond, she moves away, climbing nimbly up into the cabover bunk and grumbling something about sharing the blanket to Christopher.

He dozes back off to the phantom feel of fingers smoothing his hair.

_A/N: This Virginia doesn't follow the timeline of before, and the geography doesn't match the show's drunken geography either. The "Bay community" Jesus thinks about isn't Oceanside, which won't turn up til much later (maybe even the sequel). Negan and the Saviors are not yet active in Virginia and won't be for a few years._


	59. The Lost Child

**January 21, 2011**

~*~ Jesus ~*~

Jesus stays with the Georgians for the next couple of days, traveling as they track along the map. The first location they find is abandoned, either due to whim, walkers, or actual intelligence when their attack group didn't return. But subtle movement isn't among these Wolves skillset, which he thinks makes their chosen namesake inappropriate. It doesn't take long for Elias and Honey to determine their likely routes and the third potential location hits paydirt.

He ends up partnered to Honey as she climbs the fire escape of a building that overlooks the old impound lot the Wolves are currently using as a home base. He's more than willing to follow her direction as she stretches out on her belly on the roof, using the decorative attempts at edging as cover. She's geared up enough to pass for military, like the rest of her group. With her helmet and balaclava on, he wouldn't even be able to peg her as female, because she's as tall as most of the men in her group. He reluctantly accepted the body armor vest they offered him, but he really likes the throat radio that keeps him in the loop.

"What do you need me to do?" he asks softly.

"Just keep an eye out. It can be hard in the scope to see the bigger picture. I'm not as experienced as Tim is yet."

He uses the binoculars to help her keep track of movement below. These guys didn't think this location through, because the big front windows make them visible. The windows curve around the building on the west side, which is where Tim is set up similar to Honey, with Andrea acting as spotter. The rest of the team is scouting the property on the ground, including the two dogs.

It takes an hour of observing before Tim, Honey, and the ground team all agree on the Wolf count - fourteen. It's still not set in stone, but they know enough to plan more. The ground crew wait at the only back exit, which falls easily to Danny's lockpicks. There's a skill he wouldn't have attributed to a Marine, but when it came up last night, the younger man just grinned and said there were benefits to an ill-spent youth.

He trades his binoculars for the rifle he's been loaned, catching Honey's eye. She smiles before telling him, "Let me take the first shot to take out the glass."

When Abraham's order comes, she fires, and glass shatters, along with a Wolf dropping to the floor. He can't tell if it was a kill shot, but he does his part as he can hear firing from Tim and Andrea's direction. Within a couple of heartbeats, he hears shots from within the building too.

The snipers all stop shooting as Abraham calls a ceasefire. The four on the ground move into sight, dragging the still-living separate from the dead and making sure the dead stay that way.

"What'll he do with the living?" he asks, mic off, although he knows the answer.

She glances at him, blue eyes made more prominent by the dark balaclava covering most of her features, and arches a brow. "They'll be questioned and put down. There are some things people can't come back from, and these are only going to escalate with no law to imprison them."

The contrast between sweet, girlish Honey and the matter-of-fact sniper next to him saddens him. This isn't a world where she should have this second side, probably wouldn't have ever had it, but he's glad she does. It makes her a survivor, and better than that, it makes her a guardian of other survivors. Gregory would never agree to systematically eliminate a threat like this, for fear they might miss part of the group and invite a vendetta.

Abraham keys the radio. "Four survivors all identify one of the dead as the leader. It's possible there's a stray out there, but all four give the same numbers even questioned separately, so I think we're done here."

"We're going to clear the building we're on," Honey replies. "Bring the bus over here. Looked to be a good amount of pet supplies left."

He can see the wisdom in that. Even he knows that veterinary medications can be used for people, and they've got dogs to feed.

As Honey demonstrates that Danny's not the only lockpick in the group, they switch rifles for knives. Rattling the door doesn't produce any walkers, but they're both experienced enough to understand they can be trapped in small offices or be immobile. They proceed carefully through the entire building, finding it actually clear other than an obvious 'opt out' person in the back office in scrubs. From the looks of the back office, which is barricaded from the inside, the woman lived here for a while before deciding to end her life on her own terms. The obvious bite on her arm is a giveaway as to why.

The exam offices all have remnants of supplies.

"Ah, hell." The whimpering growl of a dog comes from the kennel area, along with the stench of months of excrement. "I hate it when these fucking places didn't set the animals free," Honey mutters.

The scrawny, shivering dog is guarding one of the kennels. He thinks the only reason the dog survived this long is the automatic feeding systems on the kennels. With none of the kennels latched, the dog's been able to access food meant for other animals. He wonders if there were others, or if the woman filled the feeders for the dog rather than set it loose or kill it before herself. Plastic pools meant for cooling have collected water from rainfall. Surprisingly, all the dog poop is in one kennel in the far back.

"Hey sweetie, why don't we take a look at you," Honey croons. She lays out a bit of jerky just outside the dog's reach.

He's not so sure approaching the animal is wise, but she's the one who knows canines. He's aware that the two dogs with the group are actually hers.

It creeps forward, still anxious, but snaps up the bit of meat and gives a hesitant tail wag. That's when he realizes that Honey's attention is only half on the dog. The rest is on the kennel behind it.

A kennel too large for a dog that looks to be some sort of mixed breed, whose ears and curly tail make him think it's mixed with a husky breed or similar.

Another bit of jerky has the dog a little closer to Honey. It takes a third from her hand, although he notices she's careful in how she offers it. He keeps an eye on the kennel, where the flap moves a little.

Honey reaches up to loosen her helmet, laying it on the ground and tugging her balaclava down to reveal her braids. She feeds the dog another strip of jerky and speaks softly, telling it how good a puppy it is.

"Are you in the Army?" comes the small voice and Jesus wants to sob. A child, alone with nothing but a dog for companionship, for who knows how long.

"Not officially," Honey replies. "My older sister is a Marine though. She was ordered to find people and take them to safe places. I help her with that."

"There was a lot of shooting." The child still hasn't moved the flap enough for either of them to see, so Jesus isn't sure if they're talking to a boy or a girl.

"There were some bad men who tried to hurt a village near here. We followed them to make sure they can't hurt anyone else." Honey slides the package of jerky past the dog to the flap. "My name is Hannah, sweetie, but everyone calls me Honey. What's your dog's name?"

"Stella." The bag of jerky disappears in a swift move by a grubby hand. The dog seems to have decided they're welcome, because it slips past Honey to greet Jesus with a hesitant wag of its tail. He kneels and offers a hand to the dog, petting it when he accepts. He supposes with a name like Stella, the dog is a female.

"Were you here with your mom?" Honey asks.

"My sister. She got bit and locked herself in the office. She never came out and never growled." The child whimpers a little, on the cusp of tears. "She gave me the keys to unlock the doors to leave, but every time we tried, the dead things found us. I let the other dogs go, though."

Honey moves forward to sit next to the entrance to the dog house. "We can keep you safe from the dead things," she assures the child. "All my people will keep you safe."

"Do you have kids with you?"

"Not right here. But there are communities with children you can go to." She glances at Jesus, who nods and kneels where he'll be visible from the dog house.

"My home has several children. I was travelling with Honey's people for a few days to help with the bad men, but then we are helping others to go to my home."

The flap moves at last, revealing a boy that Jesus thinks might be around ten or eleven. His complexion falls somewhere between Jesus and Honey's, from what he can tell through the grime of a child with limited access to bathing. And he doesn't think he's ever seen eyes so green. "You promise?" he asks.

Jesus nods. "If you don't like it there, I can take you to other communities with children."

"Or you can go back to my home with me. I have a niece your age and a cousin," Honey adds. "But I live a lot further away than Jesus does."

"Jesus?" the kid sounds rightfully skeptic.

"My name is actually Paul. What's yours?"

"Logan."

"Like Wolverine?" he asks and the boy manages a wavering smile.

The sound of the bus arriving can be heard and the boy shivers. "That's our people. We were hoping to find supplies for our dogs, but I'm glad we found more than that here," Honey explains. She offers a hand to the boy, who creeps out through the opening of the dog house. Jesus sheds his coat and offers it to Logan. The boy's actually dressed fairly warmly, in grubby sweats and good sneakers, with a windbreaker with the vet clinic logo on over everything, but he just can't stand the thought he's been alone in the cold. Honey wraps the long garment around Logan and coaxes the boy into her arms.

She lifts him as if he were a smaller child and Logan allows it. Jesus figures it's not far off from his own reaction to being touched, and Honey Dixon is one of the most tactile people he's ever met.

He keys his mic. "Honey's coming out of the clinic with a child, maybe ten years old. We need Christopher."

~*~ MD ~*~

The day was cold enough to feel it today, but even after he called a halt on the almost completed warehouse and sent everyone to other pursuits, Merle ends up helping Jamie install the appliances inside his small cabin. All the sheetrock's hung, thanks to a variety of helpers who want Jamie's known building skills involved in their own projects, so all that's left is finishing the kitchen installation and then painting.

"Henry's starting his place up next. Wants a little more space with the two kids," Jamie remarks.

"Explains why he worked by spotlight to finish up your plumbing then."

Jamie laughs. "I'm sure as our local plumber, he'll have more help than he needs. Might set a record on putting up a cabin."

The layout isn't that much different in Jamie's cabin than Daryl's, with some variations due to it not being a kit. The loft's being left for storage at this point, since it'll likely be years before Jamie and Amy have a child even able to climb the ladder. The kitchen appliances need the most creativity, because just slapping in standard models with solar power isn't always the best. The cabins don't get the big arrays like he was able to do with the house or community center. They're installing appliances that remind him more of a houseboat than a cabin, but it works out, since the individual kitchens aren't meant for three meals a day, seven days a week use, just to give residents time to themselves.

"Throw a thermostat in there and make sure it's staying cool, then you're ready to go," Merle says, sliding the fridge into its nook. The advantage of the smaller appliances is having more counter and cabinet space, he supposes.

"Thanks, Pops. I know the apartments are plenty big enough with a baby, but as soundproof as they are, they aren't perfect."

Merle leans against the counter and nods. "Amy seems to be taking to pregnancy well." Honestly, if he hadn't been told already, he would never guess.

"Better than poor Maggie."

That's true. Morning sickness has not been Maggie's friend lately, causing her to have to drop off her supply run team even though the medical staff cleared her for continuing until her balance was affected. Scout and Shane agreed to treat any pregnant supply runners like women in the military or police force... letting the doctors and the women decide when enough was enough. It meant that unlike Amy and Cricket, Maggie's pregnancy was now common knowledge in the community.

"It'll pass, hopefully, and she'll be back to helping Glenn find all the loose critters in Georgia." He sincerely hopes it's as temporary as he's been assured, as he still remembers just how sick Lil was with Honey. But Maggie's morning sickness isn't that bad, thankfully, just prolonged and too inconveniently timed to risk being outside the walls.

"Carol wants to help Amy with the paint, since she can't do it herself." He thinks Carol still struggles a little with the adult children, who don't need her attention much other than being happy she's part of Merle and the younger kids' lives. It's a weird situation for his wife, going into a family with most of the children grown, and she's so attentive she can't stand to think she might be favoring the young ones.

"She's welcome to it. Plus, I imagine she needs a distraction or two while Honey's away." Jamie sighs. "I shoulda gone, Pops. Much as I like to think that they'll keep her safe, another Marine couldn't hurt."

Merle pulls him in for a hug. It's the irony he's often considered that his informally adopted son has spent more time here at home than Scout in the years since she brought Jamie home to become an honorary Dixon. He's been home for a lot of the big events of Honey and Jazz's lives, especially in the last year before things went to hell, because being in the MECEP program at college meant he had a little more freedom to come home to visit. It was luck that placed Jamie on leave with Scout and the kids, between his final classes and attending OCS summer training. Although to be honest, he's pretty damned sure the man would have fought his way home from South Carolina anyway.

"She'll be fine. Hell, out of all the people we sent north, I'm the least worried about her." It's mostly true. A year ago, he might worry about her having that feeling of immortality that plagues most teenagers. But after being stuck on that roof in Valdosta, whatever ideals his daughter had about her longevity were long gone. "Danny's with her, and Christopher, and Tim." And Christopher's as protective of the girl as Jamie, considering he's known her since he taught her to ride a bike as a kid.

"We were going to get married at Valentine's," Jamie says. "But now we're going to wait until she and Andrea are back, even if Amy has to waddle down the aisle."

"Her words and not yours, I hope?"

"Ain't that stupid, Pops."

Merle snorts and pushes away from the cabinet he's leaning on. "I'll let Carol know to meet up with Amy about what colors the place needs to be and let her gather her teenage art team."

"No superhero murals."

"I make no promises where your youngest sister is concerned. You best go do that begging yourself."

"Oh lord. She drives a hard bargain."

Merle only laughs, following Jamie out of the cabin to make it to supper. Jamie's right. In the safe, encouraging environment, Sophia's bloomed. No one would ever guess she was nearly terrified of her own shadow back in the early summer to see her now. In a better world, he would have met Carol sooner and been smart enough to recognize her hidden depths. But he'll take the one he has, because his family wouldn't be complete without Carol and Sophia.

He thinks about that letter, the insidious infection of it sitting in his drawer, lurking in his mind. He's actually read the damned thing and for the first time, he's actually grateful that his anger at Lilliana manifested in paying her to stay away. At least she had the funds to survive and to find her answers, even if the answers were as bad as the questions in the end. He doesn't know if he'll ever be able to forgive her - or himself - for what the kids went through. But there's a wounded part of him that feels like it's healing now, knowing she wasn't of the same ilk as his father or uncle. Instead of just being plain mean or uncaring, it's easier to breathe now, knowing she had no more choice than a cancer patient had about the disease in their body.

He wonders if he knew, before, if he could have accepted Lil's probable fate in this world and not gone to look for her.

When he's woken from nightmares about it, wondering if not going to look, not trying to contact her when the world started falling, if that made him something less than a good man, he remembers that despite her apologies and legitimate issues, she still made choices.

One of those was ignoring his plea to come to San Antonio when Scout lay dying. There's so much of Lil's past he is willing to try to forgive, from the time she didn't know and didn't have the help she needed.

But none of that applies when she wasn't willing to see their daughter as she lay critically ill.

He's not ready to read Scout's letter yet. He will, before he ever gives such a scrap of her mother's regard to his eldest daughter. The letters were written before Scout was hurt, because Cricket's held onto them for a long time.

He's not sure anything it says can overcome that one, irredeemable choice.

~*~ AF ~*~

"How's the boy doing?" Abraham asks.

The kid refused to let any of the Shirewilt ladies take care of him, insisting on being near his first set of rescuers. Christopher only got in an exam on the way back to Shirewilt because Honey stayed right there with him while they loaded up the vet clinic supplies.

Christopher sighs and takes a seat at the firepit. "Malnourished, but not as bad as it could be. Scared as hell. Clinging to Honey like a baby koala. Luckily he was old enough at ten to have a general idea about keeping himself fed and hydrated and reasonably clean whenever it wasn't too cold to bathe in the plastic pools outside."

"Kid got lucky we tracked those bastards there and they didn't spot him. He might've had another couple weeks of food left. No sign anyone's been raiding that little town either."

The mere thought of the boy makes all of Abraham's grief roll through him, although it's less overwhelming now. He wonders how many orphans like Logan fall to starvation or the walkers once they lose the adults who try to keep them safe. Or worse than the walkers, people like the Wolves they just put down or the supposed friends whose lives he ended after they attacked his family.

"How long's he been alone?"

"About six weeks, if he counted correctly. He thinks there might have been days he forgot to make a mark on his calendar after last year's calendar's ran out. Medically, he'll be okay. Mentally? I guess it's the same odds as the rest of us have."

Abraham supposes he's right there. And kids seem to adapt better to the horrors of the new world.

But Logan's safe now, and he'll stay that way as long as any of Abraham's people have a say in it.

~*~ CP ~*~

"Carol? Can you come to the watch room?"

Carol stiffens a little at the request. Eugene sounds stressed, and the man's normally rather calm when overseeing his watch duties. But the request is just for her, not her and Merle, so she supposes it can't be too terrible.

She leaves supper, since she was already done and just hadn't cleared her dishes yet, realizing it's about the time that Honey normally does the evening check-in. Hopefully, it's just a need for Honey to touch base with family. She's asked for Merle, once, the night of the attack on Shirewilt. Merle didn't relay the discussion, but he assured her their daughter was okay.

Eugene is looking rather saddened as she enters. "I'll translate for you, but I'll summarize first. They did find the last of the murdering group and finished their task there with no issues encountered in eliminating the threat."

That's a relief, but probably not why she's been summoned. "That's good news."

"They found a little boy. Alone." Eugene looks rattled, and now Carol understands why.

"What does Honey need?" They have medical people with them, and Christopher's probably one of their best with children. And she has access to other parents, among the Shirewilt people.

"She wants to know if she can promise him a family here. He's afraid and doesn't want to stay with the Shirewilt people." Eugene looks like he understands the concept all too well.

Carol wishes her language skills were stronger, because she wants to reassure her daughter of every promise under the sun that can be made to this poor lost boy in her own voice.

But she's not there yet, so Eugene relays her words and promises. While Carol doesn't entirely understand at first why Honey would even seek permission, the reply that comes back is far more little girl than grown woman, and she understands.

Honey needs _her_ mother to take in this child, not just anyone.

She feels herself tear up at the complete trust the girl has in Carol's ability to save this boy.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

Jesus shifts from where he took over the boy's care while Honey made her nightly radio message to her home. Logan's not asleep, but he's tired and he's been cold except for the warmth of the poor small dog for so long. Stella's curled up on the bunk opposite, watching her boy, where he's curled into Jesus on the dinette bed. Everyone else has made themselves scarce, even though he knows Tim and Christopher normally nap before watch.

Honey steps carefully into the camper and tiptoes to the bed. Jesus isn't surprised when she doesn't ask him to trade spots, but instead slides her slim form in the bed to lie nose-to-nose with their young charge.

"You're gonna go home with me, Logan. I talked to my mama and she's gonna have everything ready when you get there."

Logan's body tenses a little. "She won't mind? Or your father?"

"Oh, sweetie, I promise you. My family loves kids like crazy. My mama would adopt every kid left in the world if she had to." She takes the boy's hand and smiles. "She's only been my mama for a little while. I didn't have one for a really long time, just a daddy. But we found Carol and I got a mama and a new sister. It's safe there, Logan. We've got lots of family there."

"What about Jesus?" The boy twists a little, trying to look over his shoulder to his other rescuer.

Jesus gives him his best smile. "I don't live in the same place, and I can't come. There are people I help take care of. You'll be safer where Honey lives, you and Stella both."

Honey smiles too. "We've got a big farm. Cows, horses, sheep, goats, and a bunch of other dogs for Stella to play with."

"Like Augustus and Oso? They're kind of big."

"Well, there are several dogs like them there, but there are also smaller dogs. I bet Stella would like Bandit. He's an Australian shepherd and belongs to my cousin Abby."

"She's my age, right?"

"Eleven, so a little older, but close. And my niece is nine. There are a lot of other kids too. Over thirty at last count."

Thirty kids. Good lord. Jesus wonders if that includes teenagers or not. He's glad the boy seems open to the idea of going to Georgia. As much as he would love a little brother, the way Honey seems to have automatically decided to adopt Logan into her family, he's on the road too much and doesn't have the support system she does. It's why when the boy cried earlier, needing reassurance after realizing Jesus doesn't stay safely behind walls, he reminded the boy that Honey offered to take him home with her.

"Does that mean you have a school?"

"Yeah. It even looks like one of those places in the history shows on TV, back when all the kids went to one school." Honey goes on to extol the virtues of her home, and while Jesus once thought Hilltop and the Kingdom as the best examples of how to flourish in the apocalypse, he thinks if even half of the picture Honey paints is true, Homestead is living up to its name.

He kind of wishes he could go.


	60. A Day of Surprises

**January 23, 2011**

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol hums to herself as she reads over today's self-set lesson in the nursing books. If the medical staff are to be believed, they think she could pass the practical nurse license exam already, but she's aiming for the level of education she might need to get her registered nursing license. So, three mornings a week, she's here, studying and answering questions posed to her by whoever's available to quiz her. She's got the NCLEX books for both levels of nursing, but thankfully there's not a lot of professional practice needed. Homestead is staying healthy and accident free.

She is looking forward to learning how to use the ultrasound machine in two weeks when all three of the pregnant women cross the eight-week mark. Denova's about a month ahead, and Carol's schedule didn't allow her to be present when the woman had her first ultrasound. She's happy enough about that, since it means she'll be learning with family members.

"Carol?"

She looks up to see Michonne looking unsettled. "You okay?"

"Depends on the outcome of my request, I imagine." The younger woman sighs. "I need a pregnancy test."

Normally, Carol would be a little envious and maybe even make a joke about something in the water, but her friend looks uneasy, not happy. She sticks a bookmark to hold her place and tugs her lanyard of keys out of her sweater. Michonne follows her to the pharmacy room, and she unlocks it. "Got a brand preference?" With already having a child, Carol knows some women prefer to use one they're familiar with.

"Doesn't matter."

Carol snags an EPT test and signs it out of the inventory with her initials. That'll send Lori to giggling when she does the computerized update later, although Carol already has three tests on issue in her bathroom at home. She just hasn't needed them yet.

"You want to take it with you or borrow the bathroom here?"

Michonne turns the box over in her hands and sighs. "Best first of the morning, but I really don't want to keep putting it off."

Carol hands her a specimen cup. "Easier and if it's positive, we can go ahead with some of the prenatal tests now."

She takes the cup and heads for the small bathroom on the hospital ward without any further comment.

When she doesn't return immediately, Carol figures she's waiting on the results in private, so she returns to her book and tries to concentrate. Instead, her mind is sorting through possibilities. Michonne's friends with several of the single men through her work on the supply teams, but there's been no sign she's been pairing off with anyone in particular. Or enjoying the casual no-strings nights that are fairly popular among the under-thirty folks here. She squashes her curiosity for now.

She doesn't need to see that Michonne's carrying the sealed specimen cup toward her to know the results. The woman's melancholy expression tells her all she needs to know.

"I really should have swapped out to the implant when it was offered," she mutters, sitting the cup down on the counter where they usually leave lab samples. "Guess I should let you do the bloodwork now. You still practicing?"

Carol nods. She's actually adept enough with drawing blood now that she doesn't really feel she has to wait on Lilly or Edwards to come back from their morning rounds at the nursing home. Michonne settles into the chair while Carol readies her supplies. Her curious glances don't go unnoticed.

"It's not that I'm unhappy, in general, about a baby," the other woman explains. "It's just after Andre's daddy being less stellar at the job than I wanted him to be, I'm wary of the idea of sharing a child with anyone."

"Does the father make you think he's the same way?" Carol watches the blood flow easily into the first vial. She'll draw two, for the different tests she'll run with the handy iStat machine. She'll hate it when the supplies run out for those.

"I don't know. This certainly wasn't something we ever discussed. I think he'll want to be involved, but I can't say for sure."

"Well, you know you won't lack for family involvement either way."

Michonne actually laughs. "I think that's rather proven, considering how your family adores Andre."

She opts for the pregnancy blood test first, figuring Michonne might want a second opinion, so to speak, although Carol's pretty sure that false positives are rare. Then she figures what the hell and boots up a second iStat machine to run the blood panel. She unlocks the records cabinet and pulls Michonne's chart to scan her record.

"At least you've had a pap smear recently, so we can skip all that. You should probably dispose of any leftover pills."

"I've still got two unopened packs. I'll bring those back to the pharmacy. Not sure if I missed a pill and didn't realize, or anything's off with them, or just that fun luck of someone having to be the reason they don't say the pill's 100% effective."

Carol gives her a reassuring smile, wishing the blood test was faster than a ten-minute wait. "I guess it's a good thing you started on the cabin, although you know Merle's going to try to convince you to move up to the house again."

"I love your husband like family, but I might smother him in his sleep if we were under the same roof on the long term."

That sets Carol to giggling, which somehow is infectious, because Michonne laughs too. She catches the movement out of the corner of her eye. Although uneasy about the unplanned pregnancy, her friend has one hand cupped to her flat abdomen.

"Here I told Merle we probably didn't need an independent day care building yet," Carol ventures. "But just between you and me, this is the fourth pregnancy confirmed since the first of the year."

The former lawyer rolls her eyes. "Guess we all got a little too festive at the holidays. Maggie's well-known. I'm guessing one of those is not you, because there's no way Merle could keep that a secret. Just forewarning you."

She shakes her head, a little sadly. "Not yet. Trying's entertaining at least."

"I imagine it is. One of these days I'm going to figure out what going for this state deliberately is like."

Carol pats her arm and then goes back to the pharmacy room. She snags one of the Expecting books and a couple of bottles of prenatal vitamins. Thankfully, Michonne's probably one of the healthiest residents they have, once she recovered from the minor malnutrition of being on her own. When she hands the items over, Michonne traces her fingers on the cover of the book. "You don't have to know the father yet, do you?" she asks.

"Not really. We wouldn't want a father kept out of a child's life, but if you need time to talk to him and sort things out, that's fine. Hershel's counseled us to keep a record, even if couples decide the baby's all they have in common, for genetic reasons."

Michonne grimaces. "Guess you certainly don't want that sort of secret going around. Last thing we need is inbreeding. I can say as far as I know, there's no siblings or potential siblings here."

"That's Hershel's thought on the subject too." Along with a lot of discussion that if a parent or parents don't want to be involved in raising a child, arrangements will be made. No one's going to be shamed if they aren't ready or willing to be a parent. That never ends well for the child. The unhappy Grimes marriage is a prime example of why a pregnancy shouldn't lead automatically to marriage. Lori and Rick are happy and flourishing as co-parents of Carl in a way neither managed as a married couple.

She checks the timer and confirms with the iStat results that yes, Michonne is most definitely pregnant. She prints the results off both iStats and tapes the printouts into Michonne's record. She'll do the urine tests later. "For now, I just need to know the date of your last cycle so we can give you a due date for your chart. I'll mark the father as 'to be updated later', although eventually we'll want his medical history. Your prior pregnancy was uneventful and Andre was full-term, so there's nothing to indicate any issues from that or your test results so far."

"December twelfth."

Carol makes that note and grabs the little pregnancy wheel from the desk drawer and lines the dial up. "September 17th. Do you think Andre will be excited?"

"That boy will be over the moon happy. I'm just glad he already understands that babies take a while after watching the other women here. He's a smart boy for not being four yet."

"If you need anything, even if just to talk, you know I'm always available."

Michonne surprises her by pulling her in for a hug. "I may take you up on that." Then she gathers her items and marches out of the infirmary with a little more pep than she came in with. Carol suspects once the initial shock wears off, Michonne's going to be one very happy mama-to-be.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

"Pull to a halt here and I'll walk up the rest of the way," Jesus tells Honey. She puts on the brakes and pulls the big semi-truck to a halt. Behind her, the caravan of trucks and RVs stops one by one and she radios out what they're up to. Logan looks at him expectantly from where he's perched in the sleeper area on the bunk with Stella.

He slides to the ground, knowing that this far out, the guards on top of the wall can't identify much. The telephone pole palisade keeps them safe from everything but determined human predators, but it also means no visual at all on the community other than the top of Barrington House as he strides up.

"Starting to think you weren't making it back," Kal calls down. "Who're your friends? You know Gregory's not going to want more folks in the middle of winter, especially not after all that snow."

Jesus grins. "Well, these friends are bringing plenty to make them welcome, but no worries, some are just visiting."

"Those trucks loaded?"

"Hell, yeah."

"They ain't gonna fit inside the walls, Jesus. There just ain't that kinda room."

He runs a mental map of the community and realizes that Kal's right on that. "I'll have them park outside the walls. Gotta let the RVs in though. Got kids in some of those."

Kal looks undecided, but no one's so hardened to turn away kids yet. "Get the trucks situated first. Noise of the engines might attract monsters."

Jesus activates his throat radio and sends out the request. Abraham acknowledges and then it falls quiet as the man switches to the vehicle radios to organize the parking. It doesn't take long, and he can almost feel the curiosity in the men above him on the wall as the four loaded trucks are parked in a parallel row to the right side of the gate. The three Georgia vehicles pull to the left side of the gate, leaving the eight RVs to progress to the gate.

"They don't need to bring guns inside," Kal calls down, and Jesus glances back to where Honey's little group of seven plus Logan are on foot and approaching. Other than Noah and his father in the first RV, they're the only ones armed.

"I'm vouching for them. They're the ones that need to talk to Gregory about bringing us more of the trailers. I promise you, they ain't going to come inside disarmed, but if you think Gregory will come out here and chat in the cold, feel free to run get him."

Kal looks uneasy but opens the gates. The RVs nudge inside, following Jesus's direction to park in a double row just inside the gate. Hilltop has a few of the FEMA trailers currently open, but the consensus among his new friends was that bringing housing was going to improve the odds that Gregory would accept those who wanted to stay, and he figures they're right. He's surprised they're leaving their own sleeping quarters outside, but he figures they're aiming for a supply run today so he can prove the first four trailers aren't a one-time deal.

Hilltop is a big pentagon-shaped enclosure with Barrington House at the right vertex, the trailers all in the 'base', and the workshops and storage in the apex. What seemed like a lot of room in the frantic early days of getting a wall up proved quickly to not be enough, because they've had to expand the walls for putting in crops. The fields aren't as well protected as the residential area, but those smaller walls keep walkers and most animals out and give any workers time to make it to safety inside the walls if needed.

They've attracted a lot of curious folks, so Jesus motions toward the still open gates. "Four semi-trailers outside. Three of them are food. Last one's other essentials." He's still amazed at the efficiency in which they cleared the dead out of that Costco in Fredericksburg. The four truckloads here are only about half of the supplies from that store, and Honey and Abraham are both carrying duffel bags stuffed full of essential medications from the pharmacy. There are more in the cabs of the trucks, but these bags are meant to make a statement to Gregory.

He can see the greying man approaching, which surprises him, because he honestly thought he might have to escort people inside to the man's fancy office.

"Jesus, who are our _visitors_?" he asks as soon as he gets into range. He's eyeing Abraham, especially, as if the man might leap upon the residents and start carrying them off. "And why isn't the gate closed yet?"

"I'm guessing because folks want to see what's in the trucks," Jesus says. He motions for the duffel Abraham carries and the burly redhead hands it over. His stance is relaxed to the casual eye, but Jesus figures if he determines anyone here's a danger to his people, they'll find out it's an illusion.

The audience helps in what he's about to do, as families exit the RVs and gather just outside the ring of curious Hilltop residents. Dr. Carson's among them, so he waves a hand. "Come see what we've brought you, Harlan."

He unzips the duffel to show the dozens of pharmacy sized pill bottles and shakes it a little to show they're not empty.

"Oh my God. Those are full?" Harlan takes the bag and rustles through it, muttering out medication names as if Gregory's not waiting impatiently for the answer to his question about the visitors themselves. "There's months' worth of antibiotics and heart medications and antihistamines and anticonvulsants. Did you manage to get into one of the big pharmacies?"

Honey steps forward then, her timing reminding him of the theatrics she displayed on the road. "Might want to keep these close at hand," she says, unzipping her duffel and letting the doctor take a look. That one's got the meds she cleared out of the restricted locked cabinets. "There's more in the trucks."

Harlan looks like someone just told him the walkers are cleared out of the world. Jesus supposes as a doctor, the scraps the supply teams have managed are nothing compared to what he and his brother wants to have for their patients.

The bounty has the intended effect, because the Hilltop supply team has to go investigate and open the backs of those trailers to see the treasure trove inside and call it back to those waiting.

"Gregory, meet Abraham and Hannah. They're going to help us out for a few days before they go home, in exchange for us taking in some survivors who got overrun a few days back."

He can see the decision to ignore Honey completely because of her youth and gender as Gregory offers a hand to Abraham. "How many survivors?" he asks, looking flustered and wincing as the big man's handshake is deliberately too firm.

"Current count is fourteen who don't want to leave Virginia. Six children, eight adults. One of the adults is a school teacher and another an electrician." Out of all the professions, those are the only two that currently fit into Hilltop's needs. Most of the rest had office jobs that just don't translate. "As you can see, they brought their own places to stay."

"All of the RVs will stay?"

Honey shakes her head. "Just six of them. We'll need two for the seventeen folks that will be leaving with us." Two won't actually sleep that number of people, but Abraham says it's about transporting them until they acquire a few more RVs for the trip home. Those were the only two that were diesel on the lot.

As Gregory tries to cope with the idea that the girl's answering and not the man, Jesus speaks up. "Folks came up from Georgia to help some of their people find their family, so they're taking folks back with them that want to go. We can manage fourteen more people, especially with the extra supplies coming in."

He can see Hilltop folks nodding in agreement. Just the three trucks already out there full of food covers the extra these people will eat until they can plant crops again. They'll be extra enthusiastic when they see the toilet paper and hygiene items in the other truck.

"I suppose that is sufficient to keep our stores from running too low," Gregory manages at last.

"We'll be making a few more runs before we leave. Stay about two more days, then we'll be on our way. We don't want to be away from home too long," Abraham says.

"You gonna teach us how?" one of the supply team calls out, carrying a box of canned goods into the compound to show others.

"Of course. And we can haul a lot more if we have more helpers on loading and driving. Anyone here know how to drive those?" Honey asks.

A couple of folks step forward that aren't on supply teams normally. Jesus is surprised at them volunteering, but being up in the cab of a big truck is a relatively safe proposition even these days.

"See? With that, we can manage six trucks." She's smiling, that winsome smile that seems to be contagious to everyone but Gregory.

"We didn't finish with the Costco in Fredericksburg, and there's a Sam's Club in Charlottesville," he says.

"If anyone knows where any distribution centers are for the area, those are pure gold for supplies," Honey adds.

Gregory still looks flummoxed and glances to Abraham. "You can actually do this?"

"We've done it so much our building crews can barely keep ahead of our runs down in Georgia," the man answers. "We'll help you folks out a bit."

"And what's in it for you?"

Honey scoffs. "Being a decent human being is typically the idea. Not a lot of us left to not be teaching and sharing what we can."

Jesus can tell that Gregory doesn't grasp the idea that they don't want payment. The man will just have to suck it up though. Personally, he can't wait to see the supply runners when Danny takes that damned squalling drone up.

"We should really get back on the road if we're going to pull another haul," Abraham says, glancing at his watch. "Can be back to Fredericksburg, load, and return by supper time."

The supply runners look enthusiastic for once, and all go to gear up.

"Jesus, are you sure about these people?" Gregory asks, pulling him aside. "They're just giving us this bounty to keep fourteen people here?"

"Yeah, I've been with them for days now, checking them out. They're safe. Sometimes people are just good people."

He doesn't think the older man believes him, but his people have returned in their gear for the road. "No vehicles. We'll ride along in theirs."

"Why are the little girl and the boy going?" Gregory calls out.

Jesus sighs as Honey turns slowly. "If you're referring to me as a 'little girl', I'm going along because I'm the mechanic and one of the best shots in my group." She reaches down to smooth Logan's hair, where the boy's tensed over the idea of being separated from her. "And he's going because I'm the one he trusts to keep him safe."

"You're allowing this?" Gregory asks Abraham.

The sergeant guffaws. "Day I try to tell a _woman_ what to do who put bullets in the head of three raiders before I could get my boots on the other night is the day I'm ready to be walker chow myself for a case of the pure stupids."

Honey just arches a brow and walks off, Logan at her side. The dogs, who all stayed outside the gate, join her before she's reached the bus and climbed aboard.

"Jesus? She's not much more than a child, and he is one."

"He's as safe in one of their vehicles as being behind these walls, Gregory. And I've seen her in action. He's not lying about how deadly she is with that rifle. We're wasting daylight." He watches as Noah splits off from his family after a hug to his mother, going to join those going on the run. He knows Michael Fisher will keep the Shirewilt folks settled against anything Gregory tries, if the man remembers they're not originally his people in the first place.

He hears three of the big semi-trucks fire up after being disconnected from their trailers. The fourth, the one Honey drove, doesn't have enough fuel to make a return trip, but there were plenty of trucks to be had in the city. He jogs to catch up and join his people on Honey's bus.

She closes the doors behind him with a smirk. "Another minute and you were going to be walking."

He just laughs, which reassures the Hilltop folks as he relaxes into the seat behind her and she shifts the bus easily to fall into the caravan.

Life's about to make a big change for his people. They just don't know it yet.

~*~ DD ~*~

"Hey. You okay?" Daryl doesn't like the look of pain crossing Lori's face. The Braxton Hicks contractions occur often enough that he wonders if they'll realize she's actually in labor. But she's rubbing at her back and looks near tears.

"I think it's just a muscle cramp, but I can't get to it, and trying to lay down makes it hurt worse."

He settles behind her on the bed and massages the spot she indicates. She sighs in relief, but within ten minutes, it's back, and he doesn't like the idea forming in his mind. "Lori, darlin', we're going to head over to the infirmary."

She looks at him startled, but he sees her make the calculations too. She bites her lip and nods. It's cold outside today, so she bundles up. He's glad today was his off-day, as he sure doesn't want to think of her sitting patiently thinking it's just backache. Carrie's labor started out like that, back killing her for hours, and then bam, Abby arrived only three hours after they realized it wasn't back pain, but contractions.

But Lori has five weeks to go, by their best estimate, and that terrifies him for the baby's sake. He knows the book says babies can be born this early and be okay, but that's in a world with a damned NICU. They've got a lot of equipment here, but there's limits to the miracles their doctors can work.

"Abby? Sweetheart?" She looks up from the puzzle she's playing with in her room. "Get your coat and I'm going to get you to run find Carl for me, alright? He's up at the main house watching a movie. Stay with him til I come get you."

She nods and heads for her outerwear before glancing back a little suspiciously. "Where are you taking Mama?"

He isn't going to lie to the little girl. "We're going up to the infirmary to have your aunt give her a little checkup."

"Is it the baby? Is she coming early?" He sees the worry bloom, and Lori struggles to the girl's side.

"We don't know. She might be," Lori explains. "And if she does, we'll send for you and Carl to come. But until we know, remember how some of my checkups are parts you don't get to watch?" Abby nods, looking a little less upset. "This is like that."

She sighs. "Okay. I should tell Carl, right?"

"Yeah, go ahead and tell Carl, and if Carol's there, tell her too."

Daryl offers to carry Lori, but the motion of going prone, even in his arms, makes everything feel worse, so they make the arduous trip up the hill and haven't even rounded the house good before Carol and Merle are both meeting them. With Merle's help, they get Lori to the infirmary faster, doing a sling carry between them.

Lori doesn't even have to be told to strip down to the hospital gown as Merle makes himself scarce, going to fetch Caleb even as Hershel crosses paths with him coming inside.

The exam that follows is probably the longest damned ten minutes of his life. The only good part is getting to see the baby on ultrasound and confirming she's correctly positioned for labor.

Cricket ends up the spokesperson for the three-person medical assessment. Carol isn't even trying to be a nurse at the moment, holding Lori's right hand while Daryl holds her left.

"The biggest issue right now is that we're basing the baby's gestational age on her ultrasound measurements. Normally, delivering at 35 weeks isn't ideal, but we wouldn't stop labor. But since there's the risk that the baby's actually younger than that, we're going to delay labor as long as we can and give corticosteroids shots to help mature her lungs, just in case. She's on the cusp of where that could be an issue if the due date is off by a week. The good news is that your water hasn't broken, so that gives us more options, but you're four centimeters dilated and about 40% effaced.

Lori sits patiently through the IV setup, but he can feel her hand in his trembling. Everything's gone so well that an early birth really wasn't what they expected. He tries to reassure himself that based on the ultrasound, Patricia's baby was early too, although her pregnancy was closer to term. Maybe the damn thing's wrong... maybe they're all wrong and Lori's further along than they guessed. He can hope. It's the first time he wished for Rick Grimes to be the father of the baby since the day he and Scout fought about it.

"This is salbutamol. Normally, it's used to treat bronchial issues, but a lot of medications for the lungs can actually halt preterm labor," Cricket explains as she injects the dose into the IV. "There are a few other things we can try, but we've got more of it and it has fewer side effects. The same properties that allow it to relax the lungs during an asthma attack will relax the womb. There's you a weird body fact for the day."

Lori manages a smile at the small joke. She's still trembling and laying on her back is still painful, so he says screw it and just slides behind her on the bed. Once she can lean back against him, it seems to ease somewhat.

"How long will this work?" Lori asks.

"We won't give the med more than 48 hours. But that gives us time to give you the shots to help the baby's lungs, which is the important issue. The side effects may not be fun. You're probably going to have tremors, heart palpitations, and anxiety."

"So, like I'm already feeling magnified," Lori mutters. Daryl massages her shoulders and she leans into the contact.

"Here comes the fun part." Caleb's wheeling the fetal heart monitor to the bedside. It takes a few minutes to get the bands in place, but the machine is soon monitoring the baby's heartbeat - strong and regular - and it catches the next contraction in a neat spike.

"When we taper off the medication, then we'll monitor for labor. It may happen within hours of that, or it could take days." Cricket looks apologetic.

Merle speaks up, voice gruff. "Took nine days after they stopped her labor with Honey for Lil to go into labor again. Hopefully, it'll go like that."

Lori wriggles to glance at Merle. "Honey was born early?"

"34 weeks. Scout too, but she made it to 36 weeks. Hardest part with Honey was her learning to feed. Had the feeding tube the first four days, then she took to the bottle like it was the best thing in the world."

"She was cold all the time," Daryl reminds him. "Even though it was August." He forgot Honey was a preemie. A lot of his memories around that time are foggy.

"Babies develop their fat layers in the last weeks of pregnancy, which helps regulate body temperature," Cricket explains. "We've got warming lights and skin-to-skin is even better. Might have to treat jaundice, but that's an issue no matter when she delivers."

"In other words, we're probably okay even if she arrives today?" Lori asks. He hates the quiver in her voice.

"We should be. Best thing to do now is relax and rest."

"Do you think we should call Scout and Shane's teams back?" Merle asks.

Hershel, Caleb, and Cricket exchange looks, but then Caleb nods. "If we delay and the medication doesn't work, it might be too late."

"I'll go do that." Merle steps in close and takes Lori's hand and squeezes. "Hang in there. Just see it as getting to hold her early."

Lori smiles in response. "That will be the nice part."

Daryl thinks it is the silver lining of all this worry.


	61. King, Meet Princess

**January 27, 2011**

~*~ Jesus ~*~

When he brought the Georgians up to the Kingdom to meet its eccentric king, he didn't imagine they might end up stranded there for a couple of days. The snow blew in mid-afternoon the day they arrived, heavy and thick like he's not used to seeing often. It's wet and messy and he imagines if the world still depended on electricity by wire, utility companies would be having a hell of a time restoring power.

Unlike Gregory at Hilltop, Ezekiel - and his people - find Honey charming and a little bit intriguing. He suspects that if the young woman didn't have family to return to, she would have an open invitation to stay in the Kingdom.

Honey, well, the self-titled king has a pet tiger, and that won her over from the beginning.

"What are you brooding about over there?" Honey asks. He was surprised when the Georgians accepted the invitation to rooms within the Kingdom's residential buildings. The converted boarding school is an ideal location for a community like this, which is part of why it's thriving. Jesus thinks if they find more pockets of survivors like Shirewilt that need to move, Ezekiel's people will outnumber Hilltop in the end. It's close already as it is. He knows that the Kingdom sends searchers out just like himself.

"Just wondering how long the snow's going to stick around. I didn't mean to get your people stranded up here." He drops the thick drape back into place over the window. There's heat of a sort in the building, but it's temperamental and leaves the rooms chilly enough to be glad they've needed to double up. Logan's attachment to them both led to Honey actually sharing his trailer back at Hilltop for the three nights they were there, doing supply runs. It made it an easy enough pairing for the roomshare here too. Logan's sound asleep in the bed, worn out from an afternoon playing in the snow.

"It's fine, Jesus. We knew traveling in winter was risky when we left Georgia. We outran the last storm, so I guess we used up all our luck. At least this wet stuff will melt off soon." She's poring over a book Ezekiel loaned her, making notes and diagrams in a composition notebook, sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed. She pauses and looks up at him and grins. "Although if we had to be snowed in, here's much nicer than Hilltop, if you aren't offended by the comparison."

He laughs, because he can see where her people are far more comfortable here than they are at Hilltop. He doesn't think it's the nicer surroundings, because they all seem perfectly happy on the road crammed in their odd little caravan, but more the people here seeming to be more of a community than Hilltop. Leadership does make a difference. "Gregory certainly doesn't compare to Ezekiel in the least."

She hums thoughtfully, tapping her lips with her pencil and studying him closely enough that he feels the need to squirm. "I've met far more competent people to lead at Hilltop. Why _is_ Gregory in charge? You or the doctor brothers or one of the craftsmen?"

"He was already in charge when I arrived. I think he was there before the doctors. I think he just stepped up and the folks there saw someone who wanted to make the decisions so they didn't have to and let it happen."

"Yet he does nothing for the community that I can see. We have folks who do administration back home, but none of them do nothing but. My mother has a nice pretty office that she maybe spends a couple hours a day in. She's cross-training as a nurse and works two of the meal shifts every week on top of keeping track of the supplies and supply runners. What does Gregory do? Sit around and drink while the others do the work?"

Jesus sighs. It's a common enough complaint about Gregory, especially among the few newcomers they've taken in who are more likely to question the status quo. But the problem is, no one _wants_ Gregory's job. He's easy enough for Jesus and the doctors to work around as they need, and he's almost positive the Carsons just see him as a mouthpiece as well. "It's not like he's going to go out and work even if we changed leaders. At least this way, we can pretend he's contributing, and some days, he actually does."

"Well, if he hits on Andrea again, he's likely to be 'contributing' his balls to the pigs' slop bucket."

Gregory's misogynistic attitude toward women at Hilltop has caused waves before, although at least the man's just slimy and not predatory. Jesus would have taken care of the problem if he crossed that line. Watching him pursue Andrea has almost been entertaining, and since Andrea's own people are leaving it to her to handle, he's let it be. "There's actually a betting pool going, you know. How long before she decides the only way he gets the picture that she doesn't see him as some gift to womanhood is to deck him."

"What are we betting?" Honey looks interested and he laughs.

"Duty roster slots, so I'm not sure they'll let you in on it. Probably think you've got inside knowledge."

He sees the mischievous look cross her features. "I'm pretty sure I could work Andrea up to the right moment, if I asked nicely. You got a bet in?"

"No. No one wants extras of my duty slots if I win." He shrugs. Considering he's either on supply runs or solo scouting trips, he can understand.

"That's just sad. I was going to egg her on for you." She studies the book and shivers a little. Even her careful layers get chilly as the building's ancient heater struggles with the winter weather outside. She tucks a bookmark into the book and slides off the bed to put everything on the desk. "It feels so much later, being so overcast outside."

He nods. Logan's need to nap like a younger child throws things off too. It's why they're in the room rather than in the social areas. He motions her over to him and lets her lean into his warmth. It's an interesting experience to hug her, because she's actually several inches taller than he is. She's aware and accepting of his sexuality, so he never worries about giving her the wrong idea, and he thinks she enjoys their closeness for a similar reason. No one's confirmed it, but he's about ninety percent certain the man she chats with each evening for the report to her home is her boyfriend.

"You still worried about the baby back home?" he asks. The Georgians check in twice a day on the impending arrival, but so far, she's not made her appearance. Jesus remembers Honey dragging Harlan off to one of the trucks for a radio consultation with a lot of amusement. Luckily the former obstetrician seemed amused by being appropriated to consult with the medical staff at her home. Although he's still not entirely sure about how the baby's related to her, because she calls the baby her niece, yet calls the mother-to-be her aunt.

"Til she gets here, yeah. Anything happens to her or her mom, it would just gut the whole family."

It's a foreign concept to him, after growing up in group homes, but he supposes if he had the huge family Honey does, he might. He's firmly decided that sometime when the weather's better and Hilltop more stable, he's taking the invitation to go visit. He needs to meet these people she describes to Logan in such vivid details and see how much is real and how much is a girl's adoration of her loved ones.

The idea of Logan leaving aches a bit. He's grown attached to the boy, and vice versa, but he can't offer him the type of life at Hilltop that he can have in Georgia. Maybe one day they'll be that stable, and Logan can visit, but for now, what's best for the boy is going home with Honey.

That's the nice part of being stranded in the Kingdom... extra days with Logan and Honey both.

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane smiles reassuringly when Lori's eyes flutter open. She's been sleeping a lot today, but all monitoring indicates everything is as it should be. Even though the contractions were halted by the medication earlier in the week, she's been kept in the infirmary. Yesterday, she was understandably irritable about the confinement and eventually ejected all her visitors except the kids. Even Daryl was sent to take a breather.

But today, she's been napping off and on, and all the irritation with her family and the situation gone. They've tried to balance things out though, which is why it's just him at the moment. Daryl took the kids to eat supper at the community center so that she isn't waking to a half dozen people watching her.

"Where's everyone?" she rasps. He hands her a bottle of water as she raises the bed so she can sit.

"Caleb's back in the staff room with his supper tray. Everyone else is eating." He indicates the covered containers on the little tray table. "Carol brought that when she brought Caleb's food."

Despite not having much of an appetite the last few days, Lori's been making a valiant effort to actually eat. She reaches out to open the takeout container. "What about you?"

He points to the empty box sitting on the next bed over. "Already ate."

"Time is it?" She's poking at the food with the plastic fork, but takes a bite of the brussels sprouts. Everything in the tray is a noted favorite. He suspects Carol or Glynnis cooked it specifically for Lori.

"Close to eight. Daryl and the kids should be back soon, Scout too."

She abandons the food after finishing the sprouts, sipping on her water instead. He worries about how tired she seems to be. He wasn't there when Carl was born, so he has no idea if this is normal for her. "Can you hand me the notebook in the side table?"

He moves his chair to pull the drawer open, removing one of the small pocket sized notebooks many of the women keep to make notes in while they work. She takes it and looks over something before handing it to him. He looks at the list of girl names and realizes what it is as she speaks. "She'll have your last name, of course, but I'd like her to have Daryl's middle name for her middle name. The girl version, anyway, although I doubt she'll care if we used the male."

"What's that?"

"Michael."

He likes Michael, and he can't see Scout being anything other than enthusiastic about any inclusion of Daryl in the naming process. He quirks a grin at her. "Could just go with Daryl. Got that actress with the name, even spelled the same."

Lori surprises him by giggling. "I did argue for that for a bit. He finally talked me around to Michael instead."

"You thinking Michaela or Michelle?"

"Depends on how it sounds with the first name, I suppose."

"Lori, you know it won't bother me if you wanted that as her first name." It really wouldn't. Lori's relationship with Daryl settled her in a way he never thought possible. The fact that they've come round to the friendship they had as kids again, Rick included, makes him even more appreciative of her current happiness.

"I considered it, but I think family names are easier as the second one."

He remembers her own given name isn't Lori and nods. He supposes she's got some experience with that, although the way the world is now, it probably won't matter was much. "This your final list?"

He's happy enough with any of the names on the list, although he figures with six of them, there's plenty to choose from. None of them make him want to just stay 'hell no', but he would have been damned surprised if anything Lori let make her final list triggered that reaction.

"That's the list we came up last night, me and Daryl and the kids, from the names we've been collecting that we like. But Carl reminded me we hadn't asked you or Scout for any additions. Figured eight or ten isn't too big a list, then maybe we take a group vote if no one name leaps out by then."

"Whose are whose here?" It's more curiosity, because he really wonders which of these is Carl's pick. He won't admit it, but he might throw his vote to the boy's selection.

"Natalie and Rachel are Abby's. Judith is Carl's. Amelia and Renee are mine. Aida is Daryl's."

In the spirit of the idea, he snags his pen out of the pocket of his cargos and grins at her as he adds two more names.

"You better be adding serious names, Shane Walsh," she cautions. She does know his expressions far too well after all these years, but she's safe enough this time. He passes her the list and she smiles. "Such a contrast of modern and old world."

He shrugs and leans back in his chair. "Don't gotta favor the one because it was my grandmother. Just wanted it in the running, at least." Jean was obvious for him to add. He isn't admitting to a few perusals of a baby name book left in the community center, but he doesn't think anyone will object that his preference for Serena is because the meaning's so close to Scout's given name's meaning.

"It is a good name. Could call her Jeanie."

"That'd be cute. Wonder how long it'd take for her to end up with a toy from the Aladdin movie from Merle?"

Lori giggles again, looking a little more alert than she was before. "About as long as it takes him to find an old Disney store somewhere."

The noise of their family returning diverts the conversation. As the kids and Daryl greet Lori, Shane borrows the notebook back to go explain to Scout. She looks pensive for a moment, a little unfocused, then writes Alexis on the pad.

"Just the one?"

She smiles. "Yeah. It's a good one, and I think there's some strong options already on there." Since the others are still distracted, he takes time to steal a little kiss before taking her hand to lead her back to Lori's bedside and return the notebook.

"Oh, the names," Abby exclaims happily, clambering up to sit beside Lori and peek. "Can I change mine? I like Shane's better."

"Which one?" Lori asks.

"Both! But I like Jean. I had a friend named Jeanette up in Kentucky."

"You sure, sweetie?" When the girl nods, Lori crosses out the two names she indicated were Abby's contributions. "Alright, let's vote on this."

After a few minutes of voting on tiny paper slips, they're in a tie, which has Abby giggling so hard she falls off the hospital bed. Thankfully, Daryl catches her with the ease of practice of dealing with children's hilarity.

"Since we seem to be stuck after two votes, and by handwriting, people are changing their votes to try to change it, I've got a suggestion," Lori says. "Nothing says she can't have three names."

She's looking to Shane for agreement on that. "Not the first kid to end up with three names," he says. It works for him. "Judith Michaela Jean Walsh."

Their newest family member has a name. Now she just has to arrive so they can see if it fits her.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

"Ever get the feeling watching her that she would have made a hell of a politician if the world hadn't fallen?"

Jesus follows Andrea's line of sight as the blonde sits down next to him. Honey's sitting with Ezekiel, along with Logan and Christopher. Whatever she's telling the king, he seems intrigued.

"That or the world's best salesman. What was she doing before?" Her primary answer to anyone at Hilltop was that she was studying construction management to join her father's company. It solved about half of the issues people had about her age, since they see her as a young-looking college student rather than a teenager on the loose.

"Story she tells has enough of the truth to it not to be a lie," Andrea answers. "She graduated high school about two weeks before the world went to hell. But she really was signed up to study construction management at college on a lacrosse scholarship."

"So, she's eighteen or nineteen?" It fits his general idea of her, and at least she actually is older than her initial appearance suggests.

"Thereabouts." Andrea takes a drink of her wine, studying the dark liquid thoughtfully. "You know Hilltop thinks you're sleeping with her."

He arches a brow. "Are you subtly asking if I am?"

"Doubt subtle could be applied to that comment."

Well, at least she's honest. He considers whether or not to provide an answer. Of all the team members, Honey spends the least amount of time with Andrea, and there's none of the casual affection between Honey and Andrea that the girl displays with all of the male members of the team. Even Abraham gets random hugs here and there, which always make the big guy seem a bit baffled.

He doesn't know Andrea well enough to tell her the truth, so he shrugs. "Is it a problem if I am?" Technically, he _is_ sleeping with her. Is it really this woman's business if that's all they're doing? Especially when logic should tell her that Logan's been with them every night.

The blonde just shrugs and takes another drink of her wine. As her eyes track among the males present, he finally puts the pieces of the puzzle together. She was testing the waters with him to see if he was available. He resists the urge to shudder. She's a pretty woman, no doubt, but gives off too much of a predatory feel for him, even if he liked women. But he might as well help her out, because it means she'll end the attempt to talk to him.

"The Kingdom is rather open-minded about how people spend their personal time," he says. "Not like Hilltop where a night with someone has you practically married by the next day."

The smile she gives him is less calculated that most of their interaction and he finds he likes it better. "Thanks."

She rises, but before she walks away, he adds, "I'd talk to the blond with the scruff that just left Ezekiel's table."

It gets him another genuine smile and a wink as she sashays off after the man in question. He hopes Daniel forgives him for the suggestion. At the king's table, Logan is motioning him over and the folks around the king are laughing uproariously. He wonders what he's walking into, but he responds to the boy and stands behind him. Christopher is involved in a conversation with one of the medical staff, so seems unaware of whatever the discussion is about.

"Is it true, that the lady bought you for two bags of supplies?" Jerry asks. The big man is definitely amused as hell.

"Well, one of those bags had a whole lot of whiskey in it," he replies.

Honey just grins. "I'm sure he could have gotten himself out of that mess without my help, now that I've worked alongside him a while, but at the time, I sure was thinking that I hoped those men were as dumb as they looked."

Ezekiel leans forward, interest intent on his face. "How did you even begin to think it might work?"

"Three men that just stand there holding guns on a seemingly unarmed man despite vehicles approaching doesn't show much brains, even in our current world. It was a risk that one might get trigger happy, but if they were that type, they wouldn't be all standing around yapping at a potential victim." She shrugs, and it makes the light catch on the silver thread woven into her braids. "Sometimes looking a little different, a little exotic, is a blessing."

Both of the men seem to understand the reference, and in his own way, Jesus does too. His hair and beard contribute to the nickname, but they also work as a shield among others.

"This radio set up you use to contact your home. Could that be duplicated here, for our allied communities? It would be far easier than people having to travel half a day or more just to deliver a message," Ezekiel asks.

"We could set it up for you. If you've got someone good with electronics, they should be able to keep it maintained and even expand it to any vehicles. Biggest issue is making sure you can keep them charged and then installing solar-powered repeaters along any routes you want to be able to signal."

"It's like rebuilding the system the emergency services personnel used before, correct?"

Honey nods. "Much the same. If more of their repeaters were less reliant on electrical power, the communications grid wouldn't have failed on a mass level. You've heard of ham radio before, right? Not the CBs in cars, but the ones that needed a government license."

"We would greatly appreciate the assistance in learning how to set them up and use them. Will we need to build a tower?"

She shakes her head. "No, the water tower you have is already perfect, or we can put it on a rooftop for easier access. Tower's taller though, so less likely to have interference. The weather can affect it, as well as geography. Our engineer, back at home, was telling me that solar flares and similar can mess with it as well, when using it at large distances. Danny and I can make the climb, get the antenna installed, but it'll help if you've got at least one person who doesn't mind heights to go along."

Yeah, Jesus is pretty sure that Ezekiel is wishing he could adopt these folks instead of the Shirewilt residents that aren't really that happy about staying at Hilltop. "They've already installed one at Hilltop," Jesus adds. "I've got a general idea how it works now, so I'm going to show the Bay community how to set it up too. They're at such a distance that it'll help them out more than us. There's that other community I haven't contacted yet we can bring in too, if they're friendly."

Ezekiel leans back in his chair, steepling his hands and nodding thoughtfully. "If your people don't mind staying, we'll be more than happy to have the assistance, and you may ask whatever payment you require that we can provide."

"At this time, nothing," Honey says. It gets a lesser version of Gregory disbelief from the king. "But if my people can manage a trip back up here when the crops are in season, there are things that grow here that don't further south. Cherries, common pears, lingonberries, cranberries. We've found a lot of success in going around to the small farms that were the pay-to-pick farms at the right seasons. Ended up swimming in apples, but down there, it's just certain types."

"You would trade help with electronics for foodstuffs?"

"It's not like you're needing anything big," Honey says, waving her hand in dismissal. "Knowledge is meant to be shared, and I saw a lot of folks back at Thanksgiving realizing that once our stocks of cranberries and cherries and so forth are gone, we can't just grow them easily, not where we are. You can put tropical plants in greenhouses, but it's really hard to reverse that trend for cold loving plants. But if that seems to simple, textbooks, like the one you loaned me? We're always collecting knowledge. And in the end, if the good people of the world don't stick together, we don't come back from this."

That gets an understanding nod from Ezekiel. "It is unfortunate that we are not located closer for regular trade."

"Weather allowing, fuel's going to be the long-term issue. Our people have a few ideas in line for that."

"How did you manage the fuel for such a long trip? Surely most siphoned fuel is coming from vehicles and about expired."

She grins. "I'm guessing none of your people served in the military overseas?"

Ezekiel leans forward. "I don't believe any of them have. There's a few ex-military."

"Gather up the military leftovers and be prepared for certain parts to wear down, but guess what diesels can run on?" Honey's grinning, and Jesus might not believe it if he hadn't seen the damned fuel barrels himself. "Jet fuel. And imagine how much of that is sitting around in airports and on abandoned raceways all over the great state of Virginia for you to find?"

"Fuel drums." Ezekiel's eyes light up with delight. "Will you share the modifications? You are your group's mechanic, correct?"

"Of course."

Logan yawns hard enough to make his jaw ache, which distracts the adults.

"It seems your young fellow here is past his bedtime," Ezekiel remarks.

"He surely is. I'll speak to you in the morning, King Ezekiel. We can sort out the logistics then."

She leads Logan off, feeling safe enough in the Kingdom's confines since Ezekiel didn't require her to disarm completely, only asking that the rifles not be carried around. Jesus lingers at a signal from Ezekiel.

The king glances at Christopher, who is probably too far away from where he and the doctor moved to the end of the table with their discussion. "You trust them? Truly trust them? They allow the youngest among them to lead." He's lost most of the jovial expression he wore with Honey. Jesus wonders, not for the first time, just how much of the man's behavior is an act.

"I can't speak for all of their community, but these travelers? Yes, I do." He glances back to where Honey's disappeared out of sight. "Abraham leads where it's needed, because she is young, but I suspect that for all their community is run by a council of people and not a king like yourself, we're speaking with their equivalent of a princess."

"But not of the Disney sort."

Jesus laughs softly. "Hell no. Unless you're thinking Mulan. Have her do a weapons demonstration when the snow clears."

"I shall do just that."

Leaving Ezekiel to his thoughts and Jerry's company, he follows Honey back. The Georgians fit in here so much better than at his own home, that he really is starting to see all the flaws of the place in a way he tries hard to forget.


	62. Judith

**January 27-28, 2011**

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane knocks at the bathroom door. "'Bout done in there, squirt?"

Anaya calls back a mumbled reply, but then opens the door. "Is Scout going to be home soon?"

"Yeah. She's just giving Daryl time to get Abby settled in up at the main house." The friendship that Scout and Lori share now is something he would have thought beyond impossible back at the quarry. Aside from their widely different personalities, they're both damned stubborn once they set their mind to something. Luckily for everyone involved, once the two women buried the hatchet on their antagonism, that same stubbornness makes for an interesting set of friends.

He also suspects that Abby doesn't really need Daryl for her bedtime, not with her Uncle Merle and Auntie Carol at hand, but it gives his wife and Lori time to do whatever it is they do to bond.

Anaya's deft at getting the moisturizer in her hair and the oil, but what he's waiting for is the part she still likes to have help with. All the little bantu knots take time, so she works on the front while he takes over the back, which is harder for her to reach. It's a relaxing routine, and while Scout's better at the braiding due to years of practice with her own hair, he's learning quickly with practice. He's grateful for the extra tips Jacqui gave, after the woman was privately outraged that Anaya didn't seem to know how to take care of her hair properly.

It doesn't take long between them to get the knots done, and she tugs on her satin-lined cap and grins at him. While she has some that were from supply stores, her favorite is one that Carol stitched for her with the soft exterior fabric being covered in tropical fish. Her grin flashes the gaps in her teeth where she lost both lower canine teeth with days of each other earlier in the week and the tiny sharp tips of the replacements coming in.

"Snack before bed?" she asks, looking hopeful. He's just glad she asks now, instead of expecting to be denied. Even Jazz hasn't gotten a lot out of her, but everyone is entirely certain she was neglected in whatever living situation she was in. She's settled back in school now, but spends her Wednesdays off school with her young uncle. Thankfully, Jazz doesn't seem to mind, although his Pied Piper effect on children usually means she's not the only child around.

"Peanut butter, applesauce, or chickpeas?"

"Chickpeas!"

It's a snack he never heard of before Cricket handed a bag off to Anaya one day and got her hooked. He has to admit he's hooked on them as well, finding them much more interesting than popcorn as a snack. He snags the paper bag of the roasted chickpeas off the counter and assesses he'll need to do another batch after tonight since they all three snack on them regularly. He rolls the paper bag's edges down and sits it on the table where they can share, before warming her a small cup of milk from the bottle of sheep's milk in the fridge. There's not yet enough fresh milk production for adults to drink it yet, but the kids like Anaya who are still on nutritional watch get quart jars of it instead of powdered milk.

He joins her with a protein drink after mixing one for Scout when she gets home. She's quiet at first, munching on the little chickpeas and playing with her cup. There's something on her mind, but they've found it's best to let her come around to talking on her own.

"Are you mad that I don't go to the hospital with everyone?" she asks finally. She refused with a level of panic that worried everyone, so Jazz looks after her if both Shane and Scout are at the infirmary at the same time, something they don't do often.

"Not at all. Some people really don't like hospitals, and Lori understands." Hell, he agrees with the girl about hospitals, and the infirmary is only tolerable because of its small scale.

She takes a big drink of the milk and sighs. "My mama died in a hospital."

It's the first mention of any sort of adult supervision in Anaya's past, so he asks carefully, "When everyone else was getting sick?"

She shakes her head and he thinks of how much having her hair covered makes her eyes dominate her features. It makes her look so much younger. "Long time ago. She had something wrong with her that made everyone scared about her blood. She was in the hospital a lot when I was little."

He has a brief hope for hemophilia or a blood cancer, although he suspects, after years on the police force, that it's probably HIV. It makes him glad they do blood work on everyone here. Although a parent with HIV doesn't mean the child has the virus, he would be horrified if she wasn't being treated or monitored if she did have it. "How old were you?"

It's sad that she has to think on it a little bit. "Five. But before kindergarten. They took me away from her there. Didn't let me stay with her." She leaves the mostly empty cup and bag to come climb into his lap. "Just one day the social worker told me she died. Like she was telling me the weather." She sniffles, but doesn't actually cry.

He hugs her close, kissing her forehead. "I'm sorry they did it that way, sweetheart." He's aware of occurrences like that in the foster care system. Overworked, underpaid workers with too many cases that just don't have time to form any kindly bonds with their charges. But a social worker being involved means Anaya probably didn't have any other family members or not anyone appropriate. It means that Al's theory about her being a foster kid is correct.

"Are Lori and the baby going to be okay?"

"The doctors think so. The baby's just anxious to meet everyone. Remember how we explained Lori's getting extra medicines to help the baby's lungs when she is born?" He feels her nod against his chest. "Those are all finished. But now the baby's decided to wait a little longer to be born, so we're just going to have to be patient."

Anaya's quiet for a minute and he kisses her forehead. "If I change my mind, would she be okay for me to come? Is she real sick?"

"She's mostly tired and a little cranky about being in bed just to be safe," he explains. "And she would be more than happy for you to come see her."

"Maybe tomorrow." She wriggles to get down and nudges the leftover chickpeas to him as she finishes her milk and goes to wash the cup. He doesn't have to remind her to go brush her teeth, and it pains him just how independent she is on things you normally have to repeatedly remind children to do. If it weren't for occasional bouts of anger with slightly older children, he would say she's being too good. She probably is, to an extent, trying to make sure they don't change their mind.

He finishes off the snack in the time she flicks the bathroom light off and he hears the door rattle as Scout arrives. His wife gets just enough time to get her coat off before she's got an armful of blue-pajamaed child, and Scout lifts her easily to twirl her around a little while she hugs her.

"I made it in time for a bedtime story, didn't I?"

The answering grins from Anaya and Shane give her all the answer she needs.

~*~ DD ~*~

Lori's restless tonight, which she tells him is from sleeping all day. She keeps apologizing for keeping him awake, even after he reminds her that he's off-duty until the baby comes. All of their schedules are modified now, with Quinton leading his team and subs in on Scout and Shane's while Morales and Rick lead in their stead. His entire duty assignment according to Carol is Lori. Scout's taking over Lori's spot in the laundry and Shane's been working a meal shift while the girl that normally works that shift is subbing for him.

The next time she adjusts position, he says to hell with the chair by the bed and scoots her over just enough to fit into the bed with her. Hopefully, spooning his own warmth behind her, in their familiar sleeping position, will help.

"Any contractions?" he asks.

She takes a minute to answer. "I'm not sure. It's not like before and my belly's not all tight. Just uncomfortable in this damn bed. I wish they would let me go home."

Daryl wishes it too, because she's right about the hospital bed being a bitch to sleep in. He rubs around the perimeter of her distended belly, knowing the muscles there ache from the weight even if she's not been pulling down a multi-hour shift in the laundry lately.

"If she's still staying put by morning, maybe I'll see if they'll let us go to the main house, at least. Then you'll have four medical people right under your thumb but more than just this little room to be stuck in."

That gets a happy sigh out of her and she reaches back to tangle her fingers in his hair. "I'm sorry this is so complicated."

"Ain't complicated, darlin'. Just different ways a baby wants to get here." He misses the really active stage Asskicker used to be in, although it wasn't all that comfortable for Lori. Since the labor, her position's been turned where there are large movements, but not the taps and kicks she managed when she was still facing out into the world. He smooths his hand down to cup underneath her belly and what he feels is definitely a contraction.

As soon as it passes and she relaxes against him, he checks his watch. "Lasted about forty seconds. Gonna keep time before we call Cricket back down."

"Alright." She doesn't move her hand from the nape of his neck, which has got to be cramping her shoulder, but he understands the need for comfort.

Five minutes later, there's another contraction, same as the first. They give it until a third one, and then he reluctantly leaves her to go buzz the main house and let Caleb know as the doctor on duty.

After the exam and monitoring, Cricket smiles. "She's being stealthy again. You're almost completely effaced and dilated to six now, so at this point, we're going to just treat it like any other labor until we know otherwise. You want me to call Shane now or give it a little bit?"

Daryl sees Lori glance at the clock, where it shows about twenty minutes until midnight. "Go ahead. But can I shower?"

"Should be fine, as long as someone's with you." Daryl nods to show he will. He helps Lori out of the bed, leading her to the bed. She's moving excitedly toward the shower, and he imagines the limited bathing she's been allowed has been grating on her. They have to pause for a contraction before she can finish undressing, and he calls that out to Carol, who perches on the bed nearest the bathroom with Lori's chart while Cricket summons the co-parents.

"Oh my God that feels like heaven," Lori groans. He grins from where he's staying just outside the shower, watching as she braces her hands to get the angle of the warm water right on her back. She stays under the water long enough for two more contractions to pass before reluctantly stepping out into the towel he has waiting. He barely gets it around her before she's cupped his face in her wet hands and kisses him, sweet and slow. He lets her lead, enjoying the affection at a time he didn't figure it would be part of her focus.

But another contraction draws it to the end, and he can see through the cracked door that Carol's grinning like an idiot when he gives her the update. Woman's a damn voyeur, but he can't help but grin back.

Once she's in a fresh nightshirt and the weird non-slip socks they insist on in here, they emerge from the bathroom to see the sleep-ruffled Walshes have arrived. No kids yet, since they decided it ought to be easy enough to summon them when labor's further along, but Lori figures that Isabelle and Beth seemed to have weathered being present at a birth, so she's willing to have the other kids in the infirmary at least. Daryl was a little surprised when Carl agreed, figuring he'd balk like Patricia's foster sons did. Abby wanting to be here wasn't surprising at all, but he suspects Anaya will wait.

Lori pauses to drink from her water bottle before switching off buddies and shuffling off with Scout down the hall.

Daryl has to grin at the slightly wild-eyed look Shane's wearing. It's a lot different between 'baby one day' and 'baby right now', he remembers, so he claps the older man on the shoulder. "Just waiting for us while she does the hard part. You ready?"

"Are you?" Shane hedges and Daryl laughs.

~*~ SW ~*~

Sunlight is spilling through the windows to light the hospital ward by the time Lori's decided there's no more walking or rocking on her hands and knees or anything else that's going to work to offset the pain but squatting on the birthing stool. The part that surprised him the most earlier was Lori working through actual exercise lunges when she hit about 8 centimeters, with Scout guiding her. Even the medical staff were curious on that one, but his wife just shrugged and said she's seen women do it overseas. The doctors figured it probably worked the pelvis into the right position, so no one contradicted the activity. She's been in the shower three more times since that initial shower she took when they first arrived, swearing by the warm water on her back for pain relief.

Everything's been monitored, but not as high tech as Shane thought it would be. About every forty minutes, Cricket coaxes Lori to the machine and hooks up the monitors for ten minutes or so. Her water broke at some point between the 4 a.m. cervical check and the 5 a.m. one, but when exactly, they don't know. Cricket explained - for his sake more than the others - that it's not always some dramatic gush like on television, and since Lori showered in the middle of that time period, it might have just occurred and been missed entirely in the warm water.

He's left feeling a little surplus as Lori's hit a stage where she's only wanting Daryl close to her, although he can understand her point. The perch Daryl has behind the birthing stool makes for incredibly close contact. Shane's pretty damn sure the man's singing softly with every contraction or at least something rhythmic and soothing he can't quite make out.

Scout and Carol are at the desk, listening in on the radio consult Cricket's doing with the obstetrician up north. They installed the radio system in the infirmary after Honey's introduction to Dr. Carson. The man was as relieved to have a way to consult other practitioners as their own staff were.

The door opens and he shuffles over to guide the kids through to the bed designated to allow them to be present but only witness a television level of the birth. Carl's damn near vibrating with excitement, and he's surprised to see Anaya looking staunchly determined next to Abby. The girls are holding hands, the first time he's ever seen them in truly close contact. Perhaps a shared sister is enough to break through the ice for them at last.

"How long?" Carl asks.

"Cricket says could be a couple more hours, but maybe sooner." He doesn't figure the boy wants to know anything about dilation and effacement and active labor, although Cricket's last check led her to declare 'anytime between now and lunch'."

"But everything's okay? She isn't going to need surgery?"

He understands the boy's worry. It's been a specter over the entire pregnancy, but never as much as the last few hours. "They don't think so."

Figuring he's more needed with the kids than anywhere else at the moment, he settles on the bed and lets the girls cuddle into him, reaching around Abby to squeeze Carl's shoulder. He's only a little surprised when the boy takes his hand instead. Carl's not so old yet to need extra comfort.

"Dad's going a bit crazy," Carl confides. "Merle ended up taking him over to work on Maria's cabin to keep him busy."

Shane has to laugh at that. He can imagine, all things considered, Rick is probably going a bit crazy with worry, but at least he's got people to keep him busy.

He stays with the kids another half hour, watching the clock slide past 7:30. Lori's mood shifts a little, and since she's got Scout close, talking low and intently between contractions, he leaves Carl in charge of the girls and ventures back over. They've hooked up the monitors for a little bit, and he's learned the patterns by now. Everything is staying in the range Cricket said it should for the baby's heart rate.

She surprises him with a rather bright smile. It's tired and he hates the pain he can see in the expression, but she grabs for his hand and he takes a seat on the stool Daryl scoots under him.

"With Patricia, Carol cleaned the baby after, but I want you to," Lori says.

He agrees, not entirely sure on what it entails, but certain that Carol won't let him mess it up. Before he can ask, Cricket swoops in with the Doppler and everyone gets to listen in to the now-familiar sound of the baby's heart rate for a minute before Cricket whisks it away with a glance toward Abby as the next contraction hits. He knows she did it just for the girl's reassurance, since they haven't been listening since the first checkup after he arrived.

Once the contraction passes, this one with Lori leaning forward with he and Scout bracing her while Daryl rubs her back, Cricket detaches the monitors and tucks them away.

"Are you feeling a need to push?" she asks. Lori nods a little frantically. "Next contraction, that's exactly what you do then."

The next half hour is intense, and he reminds himself that this stage can take a while. Lori's reverted to holding Daryl's hands now, but she was almost frantic is making sure he and Scout both stayed put. He meets his wife's eyes across Lori's form and she gives him a reassuring smile as she reaches for the damn cloth to help Lori sponge her face, neck, and shoulders, moving under the unbuttoned nightshirt with a comfort he wouldn't have expected the two women to have with each other.

The next contraction gives them what they've all been waiting to hear, Cricket declaring the baby's crowning. His young sister-in-law is grinning so wide he thinks it ought to hurt when Lori shifts, letting go of one of Daryl's hands to grab at him instead. She leans into him as she moves forward in the effort of pushing, burying her head into his shoulder. It hides Scout from him completely, but he can hear Daryl very clearly now. He's humming, whatever soothing tune he was doing before and Lori's breathing to it, her breath hot against his skin.

It's not until Scout's mix of languages sliding between English and Chamorro fluidly that he realizes what the two women were talking about so intently when he was with the children. It isn't Cricket with the baby in her hands. Scout's expression looks like her world rocked its foundations as she cradles the now squalling baby in the blanket she's caught her with and lifts her up to Lori. It takes them both a moment of fumbling before the baby girl is laid belly down on Lori's bare chest and both women are crying.

"You can touch her." Carol's voice startles the hell out of him, but he reaches out and Scout peels away the wet and messy blanket from the birthing catch and he hesitantly slides his hand in the space between where Lori's got the baby cupped to her chest with one hand behind her head and one under her bottom. She's squirming and crying, and Shane realizes as he makes skin contact that he's only the second person to touch the baby's delicate skin. He can feel the vibrations through her tiny back as she protests her entrance in the world, but then she quiets as Lori talks to her. He takes the blanket Scout's offering and with one hand still in place, gently dries her hair and everything he can reach.

He glances at Cricket, not sure why nothing's been done about the cord yet, but she just smiles and sneaks a hand in with the clamp rolling the baby just enough to reach. She's offering him the scissors, but to take them means he has to stop touching the baby and he just _can't_, so he jerks his head toward Daryl.

As soon as the cord's cut, Scout moves Daryl's hand to get the little cap on the still messy head of black hair and he finally cleans the baby's back, covered until now by his own hand. The next blanket he's handed is heavier than the thin ones for cleaning and he covers the baby with it as she moves her head back and forth a little from where she's lying between her mother's breasts.

Then she's staring at him, far more intently than he ever thought a newborn could do. He can't breathe from the intensity of the feeling. She just keeps looking as if she knows all the secrets of the universe and his most especially. She gives a little wiggle and a tiny fist emerges from under the blanket and she breaks the eye contact as the closer object changes her focus. He watches in wonder as she crams the little fist to her mouth. She sucks intently for a few minutes before she starts moving again. As she's kicking her feet, Lori starts a tired giggle and he realizes what the movement's all about when Lori reaches out to cup the breast closest to the baby, the far side away from Shane. He sees milk beading just as he figures it out, but Judith's smarter than her daddy, because her movements had purpose.

She latches on and it takes a minute, but she figures it out and begins to nurse.

"Hey, Shane?" Lori's voice is a little strained, definitely showing evidence of her crying, but she's smiling as the tears fade and he tears his gaze away from the baby. "I'm thinking this might be the first birthday present from me that you actually like."

He's sure no one blames him one damn bit when he buries his face in the soft skin at the junction of Lori's shoulder and neck and cries.

~*~ DD ~*~

Judith's just under two hours old and in Carl's arms at last. Unless you count the gentle movements of Carol doing the baby's health assessment, he's only the second person to officially hold the newborn. The girls are hovering next to him, Abby carefully touching one foot while Anaya just leans on his shoulder stare at the sleeping baby. Between Shane on one side and Scout on the other of the children, the baby's well attended.

After all the craziness of the week, Lori's already managed a shower and finally in a bed in fresh clothing. She's exhausted, but her eyes are on her son cradling his newest sister. He reaches out to stroke her hair back from her face and she shifts a little to smile at him.

"She's here."

"Yeah, darlin', she's here and you made it happen." He kisses her forehead and she reaches out to take his hand. He scoots his wheeled stool so that she can hold it comfortably while still able to look back to the kids.

"I'm afraid to go to sleep. Afraid it's a dream."

"Ain't a dream, Lori. I promise you. She's here and safe and _healthy_. You sleep and we'll watch over her for you."

She tugs his hand up to kiss the palm. "I love you."

"Love you too. Sleep for me, please?" He brushes a kiss across her lips and she lets her eyes drift closed.

He looks back over his shoulder to the baby. He supposes it doesn't matter how old you are when you hold your first baby sibling. Carl's expression makes him think the boy would believe she's a gift from the fairies just like Daryl thought Scout was.

~*~ SW ~*~

It takes a while before any more visitors are allowed in, but once Lori's slept a couple of hours, the first Dixon not involved in the birth peeks in just after two in the afternoon. He's not a bit surprised that it's Jazz, or that the boy spends a few minutes hugged tightly to Lori once he's there. He says something very quietly that makes Lori tear up and hug him even longer. He doesn't ask to hold the baby, but instead sits next to his sister as she does and cups one tiny, tiny foot in the palm of his hand. It makes her look like a doll even more than she already does.

The baby needs to nurse again and that sends Jazz to join the other kids. The day's tired the girls out, because they're actually sleeping together in one of the hospital beds. Shane leans across the back of Scout's chair and wraps his arms around her, kissing her on the temple.

"She's got your hair."

He smothers a laugh in her shoulder. After Lori ran a warm, wet cloth over the baby's hair after her second round of nursing earlier, there was no mistaking the black hair has a distinct wave to it to mimic his own curls.

"How are you feeling?" He knows Lori can hear the question, although her attention is all on the newborn. Daryl's disappeared, off to fetch food for everyone that completely forgot lunch in the birth's aftermath. She glances over, obviously interested in Scout's response. His own emotions are settled now, not as overwhelming as they were when he cried against Lori earlier.

"Amazed. A little in love with kumaile-ko."

Lori looks a little puzzled, understanding part of the word, since Scout's used it before to explain the godparent concept. She's simply added the possessive 'my' to the co-mother term, but it shifts in the possessive from kumaire.

"Well, Daryl and I will appreciate if you don't throw me over and steal Lori away," he teases. It fills in enough of the blanks for Lori to laugh and the baby to protest the movement and sound.

But he understands the feeling. It's not the same feeling he has for Scout, but for the first time, he understands Rick's lingering, unending affection toward the mother of his child.

Judith's finished nursing and dozed back off by the time Daryl returns with food and helpers to carry it.

He isn't exactly surprised that Rick's one of them. He _is_ a little surprised when Rick asks hesitantly to hold Judith and sits quietly for a minute just watching the baby sleep.

Merle peeks over Rick's shoulder a moment before moving further up the bedside to drop a kiss on top of Lori's head. "You did good, mama."

She responds with a bright smile. Shane will probably never understand the quirky friendship those two formed once they decided to be friends, but he's glad of it. Lori has a champion in Merle he doubts she'll ever find similar to in anyone, not even Daryl.

"Stubborn wife of mine and your other half are both telling me I gotta ask you the baby's details," he says, making Lori laugh.

"Judith Michaela Jean Walsh. Six pounds, two ounces, and seventeen and a half inches long."

Merle nods at the information and reaches out to cup the baby's foot where it's escaped the blanket, much like Jazz did. "She might've been a ten pounder if she stayed put a few more weeks." Lori gives a groan that Shane thinks is only partly playacting at the though. "Know the Jean's for your grandmama, Shane, but it's a little sweeter on top of that, you know."

"Why's that?" he asks.

The older man tilts his head toward Scout.

Lori glances over and he can see her thinking, making connections. She grins as she speaks. "Jean Louise. Scout's real name from _To Kill a Mockingbird_."

Scout only smiles, and he wonders if she made the connection already and just didn't mention it.

Merle tucks the baby's foot back into the blanket with practiced ease. "She don't need a lot of folks jostling her, so I'm gonna wait my turn another day." He rounds the bed and hugs Scout where she sits, but Shane shouldn't be surprised to find himself in a rib-cracking bear hug.

"Ain't a damn thing more humbling in the world than that gift you got today," Merle says quietly.

"I know," he replies, hearing his voice crack.

His father-in-law lets him go with an affectionate smile and leans in to hug Lori. Whatever he says to her doesn't carry, probably deliberately, and then he signals the two teenage boys. Both follow him as he leaves.

It's then that he sees that the baby's awake and her tiny, delicate fingers are grasped firmly around Rick's. From the looks of it, she's got his brother caught in that same soul-changing stare she got him with right after she was born.

Rick doesn't look away, but he speaks. "I'm your Uncle Rick, Judy. Gonna be who you come to when your parents make you all mad, okay? We got us a deal?"

The baby makes a small sound Shane's going to pretend is agreement to that offer, and from Rick's expression, he knows his daughter's probably never going to have a stronger champion on this whole lousy planet outside her parents than Rick Grimes.

A/N: Even in this AU, Judy's always gonna be Rick's in some way. :)


	63. All About the Babies

**January 28, 2011**

~*~ Jesus ~*~

The snow is melted just enough to risk the supply run with Ezekiel's people to fetch more radio supplies. Honey's group did have extras, in case theirs failed or they needed additional vehicles, but they didn't expect to need actual base stations. Even the one set up at Hilltop is meant as a mobile unit. Since the base stations are better, their people back in Georgia located a ham radio supply place in Woodbridge by virtue of it being listed in a catalog for the place they cleared out back in Atlanta. Luckily, it's an area the Kingdommers have been working through for supplies.

The trip is easy enough, with the Georgians demonstrating the real ammo saving techniques of those crazy air rifles of theirs. Casting ammo for the air rifles is easier than making ammo for the firearms, plus air tanks can be refilled. He can practically see the wheels turning for Jerry as the big man plans his report to Ezekiel, especially as the surplus drivers for the Georgians help themselves to abandoned semi-trucks and show how the techniques they used to clear out the radio supply place and its neighbors work equally well to a grocery store the Kingdommers haven't been able to clear yet.

The DC suburbs are a wealth of food and supplies, now that they have a less limited method of removing the walkers.

They're headed back to the Kingdom with their haul so the radios can be installed and Honey looks pensive. "Do you think Ezekiel will be offended if I ask why they haven't blocked off the bridges?"

He startles enough that he puts his feet down off the dash. "What do you mean?"

"There's a river right there, a natural barrier. If you block the bridges, it keeps at least some of the population on the DC metro side." She glances at him, obviously puzzled. "Not that it's my idea, originally. When Tim's group came down through Chattanooga, they blocked the last two remaining bridges with vehicles. Our teams have made a run up there and checked and there's a hellacious amount of walkers on the Tennessee side, but they can't swim. It cuts off one of the major population centers from coming down into our territories."

"Huh. No, I don't think he'll be offended. I'm guessing his people are just far enough away from it that no one's thought about a blockade. Other groups might move them, though."

"Yeah, but they might not, and it wouldn't be that hard to check periodically. It's not like the communities here really need the DC side for supplies, not yet. And when you do, you can always just sit behind the barriers and splat away from safety. We had a herd of about four hundred come at our walls back at Thanksgiving. It was like shooting fish in a barrel."

"I'll bring it up, if you want, but honestly, he likes you enough you'll always have a place at the Kingdom if you get bored in Georgia."

She smiles at him a little sadly. "Do you really think I'd pick the Kingdom over Hilltop if I left Georgia?"

Oh. He knows she considers them friends, and he's had enough of conversations with Tim and Christopher at different times to know that Honey's pretty fierce about her friends, but there it is, right out in the open. He's not sure how to respond, so he smiles until hers brightens and she returns most of her attention to the road again.

~*~ RG ~*~

Rick watches Carl slip through the supper line and glance toward the table where many of the teenagers congregate. He's surprised, just a little, when his son angles for his table instead. He figured a day mostly apart from his little girlfriend would have his son heading that way at least for the meal time. Rosita's not here yet, caught up in some engine modification project they have going down at the garage, and with Shane away and his team with their families, he figured on a semi-solitary meal.

Carl slides his tray down opposite and smiles. He thinks the boy looks a little shellshocked too. He can understand the feeling. With all the complicated mess of what led to Judith's very existence, he didn't expect to feel so attached to the girl. He's glad, because his honest fear was resentment, and what kind of grown man feels that way towards a child? Instead, all he can see in her is Carl's sister, who bears miniature features of two of his lifelong friends.

"Not back at the infirmary yet?" he asks. He knows Merle led the boys away just in case things got emotional, but it's been a couple of hours and he really figured Carl would camp out with the others once he was allowed back in. With the late lunch they were all eating, he doesn't expect anyone else to come to supper. Carl eating again is just typically teenage behavior. Rick is sometimes glad there's not a grocery bill involved in feeding the growing boy anymore, although he can be amused at himself since his son is guaranteed enough to eat here.

"Figured Mom's going to talk them into letting her go home soon enough, and I'll be there all night." He smiles down at his chowder and bread and pushes the food around a little with his spoon instead of eating. "You're okay with her, aren't you, Dad?"

He reaches across the table to tap Carl's hand so he looks up. "Son, I always promised your Uncle Shane that one day, I'd be the fun uncle who spoiled his kid rotten. It's just unique that she's also your sister."

His son laughs. "Does that mean we get to team up in spoiling her?"

"We certainly can, and we will. We just might have to be more creative than sending her home with half her weight in gummy bears."

"Right now, that's not a lot of bears. Was I that tiny?"

Rick shakes his head. "Not really. But you took a little longer to be born, so you had a few extra pounds. When babies are that little, even a pound seems like a lot. She'll grow fast, too. I'm pretty sure that Matthew wasn't much heavier when he was born and look at how big he is already."

Carl turns to look for Patricia, who has the baby in a carrier against her chest. All that can be really seen of the sleeping baby is a wild tuft of blond hair, but Rick thinks Carl's around him enough up close to understand the comparison. The boy nods and actually eats a couple bites of his chowder before looking back at Rick.

"You gonna have more kids with Rosita one day?"

He wonders how long Carl's been curious about that, and he honestly isn't sure how much to say. In the end, he decides on honesty. "Rosita and I aren't yet to the point to talk about any children, but even when we do, there's the possibility it might not happen."

"Why's that?"

"Your mom's wanted another baby since you were barely out of diapers yourself, Carl. Even wanted us to go see a specialist in Atlanta about it when things were still good between us. But I didn't want to go, since the tests aren't exactly the sort of thing you want a doctor poking around it. I was too prideful for it, when I should have at least helped your mom find some answers. And now that your mom's got Judith, well, it kinda tells me maybe I shoulda seen that specialist."

"Like with Bobby's mom? He told me one time about how his mom and dad spent a whole lot of money for him to end up with his little brothers."

Rick remembers his son's friend and Lori's gossip through the grapevine. The couple ended up with a second mortgage on their house to finance the multiple rounds of IVF before they finally got the twins. But it makes it easier in explaining to Carl, since he's got the general understanding. "Yeah, about like that."

"Can't they still do whatever now? At least check?"

His son's still just young enough to not quite grasp the embarrassment factor involved. "Maybe. I'd have to ask. I'm honestly not sure how complicated it might be." Well, he's got a little bit of an idea, but that creepy but interesting biology lab in college where they had the bull semen samples was a lot of years ago. He can't quite picture asking one of the doctors here, people he shares meals and chores with, for that particular assistance.

"Well, you should think about it. Because Rosita's real young. I'm betting she's gonna want a baby one day too." Carl's expression is a little more knowledgeable about adult interactions that Rick really likes, but he thinks his son's got the right idea there. Rosita is young, and if what they have now is going to be long term, they need to know where they both stand on the idea of kids aside from the fact she's assured him she's got an IUD that's good for at least another year.

"How did you get old enough to be handing out advice to your own father?" Rick teases, hoping to deflect the serious nature of the discussion.

Carl just laughs.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

Even Jesus, with his general fearlessness about heights, isn't entirely comfortable watching Honey scale the Kingdom's water tower with Danny. The younger man's admitted to a youth spent freeclimbing, but Honey keeps up with him as if she's long done the same. They're over a hundred feet in the air to reach the platform around the tank itself, and that's with carrying equipment the repeater needs. In the end, they decided the antenna would go on top of the building that will house the main radio, with the repeater for a boost on the tower, rather than running cable down the tower. One of Ezekiel's more electronically inclined people is up there with them, watching as Honey does the welding required to permanently attach the equipment. The main reason she's up there is that Danny's not as good with the portable welder.

With just the repeater up there, if the tower ever does fall, they don't lose their antenna too and should still be able to contact the Virginia communities at least. Honey's pretty certain she'll have them talking to Georgia within the hour.

He turns away from the sight to step into the small office Ezekiel's designated for the main radio station. Although Danny's their acknowledged tech expert, he doesn't think that Tim and Christopher are that far behind him. They've got most of the setup done, with redundant radios and equipment. It's more deluxe that what Hilltop has, but he can't fuss since he knows his home will get the upgrade on their return now that they have the surplus of equipment. The antenna's already in place atop the building, so they're mainly waiting now for the tower crew to finish and Danny to return to finalize the setup.

"My people will be absorbed in the radio books you brought back for weeks, if not months," Ezekiel says behind him.

Jesus turns and smiles. "Jerry tell you about the air rifles, too?"

The king nods, absently watching the two Georgian men set up the workspace. "It is an elegant solution, even more so than bow and arrow."

"Honey thinks you should block off the DC bridges," he says, remembering their earlier conversation. "To keep the area with the larger dead population from drifting over to Virginia. Apparently, they've done similar at Chattanooga."

"That would not be a difficult task to undertake, and it does make a lot of sense."

Approaching footsteps signal that Honey and Danny are back. He slips past to recheck the setup on the desk, while she snags Jesus to use as a personal warmer. Ezekiel seems to find it amusing, so he goes along with it.

"Alright, we want to test Hilltop or Georgia?" Danny asks.

Honey scoffs at him as if it's a question. It's right at time she normally checks in with her home. She gives Jesus a squeeze and goes to take over the radio.

When she rolls out the greeting in Chamorro, he explains to Ezekiel about the language used as a code unto itself. He doubts Ezekiel has enough people fluent is less populous dialects to imitate it though.

The answering voice isn't the man he's heard before, and it startles Honey into English. "Daddy? Is everything okay with the baby?"

There's a rich chuckle over the airwaves and Jesus realizes they're about to speak with one of the primary leaders of Homestead, as does Ezekiel. "Everything is fine," her father replies in English. "The baby came this morning. Healthy girl, six pounds, two ounces. They're calling her Judith."

Honey's on her feet, dragging Logan into a hug and twirling him. She's got a silly grin on her face, which he knows is partly from how worried she's been.

"Hannah Catherine?" comes from the radio, then a bit of laugher. "She's celebratin', isn't she?"

Jesus picks up the mic and replies, "Yes, sir. She's whirling Logan around in a happy dance."

"New voice there. You the young man who's been playing tour guide to Virginia for my girl and her friends? And you can drop the sir. Just makes me feel old."

"Yes. My name's Paul Rovia." The Jesus nickname just doesn't seem to fit the occasion, introducing himself to someone who runs a survivor colony.

"Merle Dixon, as you probably know. Thank you for providing her a little more backup. There's a lot of folks back here that wouldn't know what to do without her."

He looks to where Christopher, Tim, and Danny are getting excited hugs and smiles. He can understand the sentiment. "I have Ezekiel, ruler of the Kingdom, here with me."

"Good to hear there are more survivors still out there," Merle says

Ezekiel is a little clumsy, but manages the reply. "It is unfortunate so much geography separates our communities. Your daughter has been giving us a lot of good information and training."

"Good to hear. There will come a day when knowledge will be more important than ammunition."

Honey returns to the station as the two men exchange pleasantries, and Jesus gets a happy hug as well.

He wishes finally speaking to Honey's remote family didn't remind him she'll be returning to them far too soon.

~*~ LG ~*~

In the end, Lori wins the argument to go to her own home when Cricket offers to bunk down there. She feels guilty keeping her from her family for the night, but Cricket just grins and says helping spoil a new baby is no hardship. Because Judith's very healthy, but having the expected temperature regulation issue from her early birth, she finds herself with additional overnight helpers. She would have invited Shane and Scout to stay in any case.

The emotions from the birth are settled more. Judith's here, safely, with no surgery involved. It opens up so much more of a future for her as a mother, to know that she can give birth without extreme medical intervention. It was both better and worse than expected. With the c-section, she remembers not seeing Carl for almost two hours, which devastated her because not seeing him made it hard for her to believe he arrived.

This time, everything was so completely different, and that's ignoring the fact that there's an extra set of parents involved for the birth. Holding Judith for the first hour of her life... nothing can replace that.

"You okay?" Daryl's voice is pitched soft, since not everyone napped like she and the girls did.

She shifts a little, uncomfortable in entirely different ways post-birth this time, but smiles as he lies down on the bed to slide his arms around her. She's supposed be sleeping, since the baby just nursed and is currently using Shane as her personal warming system. All the kids are in bed, with Anaya and Abby actually sharing a bed, and Cricket borrowing the top bunk. Carl's reluctance to leave the room once they got home nearly had him sleeping on the couch once he realized Shane and Scout had an air mattress.

"Yeah, just can't quite drift off. I don't remember getting to rest this much the first time."

Daryl laughs quietly. "It is the benefit of having an extra set of parents. We can take it in cycles, other than you being the only one who can feed her."

He's smiling and she realizes that for the first time in their relationship, there's no baby bump in between them. It's a novel feeling, to feel his hand on her hip and realize he still has the habit of stroking her belly with his thumb. "That's gonna be her normal, isn't it? Knowing she's got easily a dozen people at hand for anything she needs."

"Yeah. And her mama best realize that applies to her too." He leans in and kisses her, sweet and lingering without any heat, just that general need to be close she's often gotten from him.

"You've got to be exhausted," she says. She's slept after each round of nursing, and Cricket's been encouraging her to nurse every two hours, but stretching to no more than three for the night cycle if the baby will tolerate it. It takes about twenty minutes for each feed, and she enjoys lying with the baby another half an hour or so before letting someone else take over the kangaroo care while she naps. It feels odd, leaving the baby in nothing but her diaper, little cap, and socks when she's having problems staying warm, but she doesn't think Judith's had much chance to shiver with being tucked against everyone's bare chests with a warm blanket folded over her tiny form.

"Little bit. But I'll get in a good stretch of sleep. Shane says he'll bring her to you when she needs to nurse again, and Scout will take her next. That'll give me four hours or more. Then we'll rotate again. Carol's got all of us off duty for a week, Carl included."

Since she's probably the only one of the three who can't seem to fall asleep on command, she supposes it won't be too hard on them. She wasn't able to nurse Carl, so she's trusting in Cricket's knowledge on the subject. From Patricia's prolific ability to nurse following the same beginning steps, she knows it's the right track. She feels damn near pampered and thinks that the other women are at a disadvantage of not having the second set of parents.

She yawns and instead of moving to her other side like they usually spoon together, she moves as close as she can to tuck against his chest facing him. She likes the novelty of the position and drifts off to sleep.

If she dreams of a future with even more children, these with blonde locks and vivid blue eyes, it's because it's the first time she's believed she'll be able to have a child with Daryl. It's truly possible now.

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane's sprawled on the air mattress, not yet asleep when Scout makes her way back into the living room with the baby tucked to her bare chest. She's appropriated one of Daryl's flannel winter shirts instead of a blanket, wearing it buttoned over Judith. He's glad that she thought of the shirt, because she gets cold easily herself due to the burn scars. They keep their cabin warmer than most at night just for that reason, so she doesn't have to layer to sleep.

She sits on the couch, hands still cupped around the baby on her chest. She's talking softly, words almost indistinct. He's fluent enough now to recognize she's telling Judith a story about young women catching a monster fish with nets of their hair after the hunters failed. He remembers the tale from one of the books and smiles to himself. Trust Scout to start her out on tales of women getting things sorted.

He drifts off to sleep listening to his wife's storytelling to their daughter, feeling the most content he ever has in his life. Anaya's making progress and Judith's safe, so all's right with his world.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol is overjoyed that the baby is safe and healthy and Lori managed the birth she wanted. It's overshadowed just a little by the proof today that there's not yet a future baby in her life.

Maybe it's for the best to wait a little bit, to let the baby boom pass. She thinks there might be such a thing as too many babies at once. With giving both parents time off, it's going to drop a lot of folks off work rosters come September. But this is a new world. She'll give parental leave if she damn well wants to, not that the council will complain.

Merle slides into bed, warm and a little damp from his shower. "I'm starting to think Honey's got the team lingering up there to convince this young man to come home with them."

"You might be right. Christopher says they're rather close." Carol made a point to be present during a morning report just the other day when the nurse was most likely to be the one reporting in.

"I'm kinda split on the idea. Our latest child we haven't met yet is awfully attached to the man by Honey's own admission to Eugene. And he's smart enough to be polite when I spoke to him earlier for a minute. But it also sounds like someone capable is needed at that home base of his."

"I foresee trips north in our future." It might be exciting to travel that far. She's never been outside of Georgia.

"If they do get that biofuel rig going again after moving it here, I'll feel better about that, knowing we can replace what we use."

"With all our resident geniuses working on it, I'm sure they will." She leans in to kiss him tenderly.

"Eugene mentioned something about considering the railroads too, for future travel or trade."

"Man's a treasure trove of ideas." He truly is, but unsurprising, considering how well read he is. Honey asked her to make sure he's not isolated while she's gone. Carol just wishes she knew for sure if she's caretaking her daughter's boyfriend or her buddy. Eugene's miserable without Honey either way.

"How close are they on the insulin idea? He got the lab set up, right?"

Considering Merle broke off other projects to construct the lab building, she understands his curiosity. "Yeah. He called it a scientist's wet dream, then spent ten minutes apologizing for his vulgarity."

Merle laughs. "Man's too smart to risk your bad side. Gotta give him credit."

"They'll start the first trial when Jazz puts his next round of lambs to the freezers. Hershel's already got a team to harvest the pancreas."

"How long do we have on the insulin supply?"

"Thanks to two hospitals with lingering electricity, we have another year's worth, but eventually it'll expire, refrigerated or not."

"Should be plenty of time to recreate something a 1920's doctor could do."

He's right on that. She cuddles into him, tired by her early start to an exciting day. He rubs her back and she luxuriates in the feel of how his big hands make her feel delicate.

'Love you, Uncle Grandpa." She grins against his chest.

"Hey, now, none of that. We're rednecks, not hillbillies." He kisses the top of her head. "She's an amazing little scrap of new person, ain't she?"

Carol loves the depth of pride in his voice. No one hearing him would know that baby isn't Dixon by blood.

"She really is. It's going to be different, grandparenting from the very beginning." Not to mention that the parents are so close to Carol in age.

"Just means more time to spoil her," Merle muses. "And I love you, too, darlin'. Get some sleep."

He's dozing off within minutes of that, and she just enjoys his warmth for a while. Maybe this month wasn't their month for a baby, but it will be someday soon.


	64. Variants of Love

**February 4, 2011**

~*~ EP ~*~

Eugene's a little surprised when Jazz settles across from him at lunch. Normally, Honey's brother joins him for breakfast, but lunch is pretty much reserved for his young girlfriend. He's got his head ducked down and he's eating mechanically as if reminding himself not to waste food.

Even Eugene can figure out something's wrong. "You okay, Jazz?"

The teenager sighs and lays his fork down carefully. His gaze goes toward the table the teenagers usually co-opt and Eugene largely avoids now that he doesn't have to monitor teenage hijinks due to work. But Eugene spent enough years on cafeteria duty to recognize the problem right away.

Sophia's gleaming blonde braids stand out because she's bookended by two boys. Eugene recognizes Miguel, because the teen's got a passing interest in science and came to a couple of labs Carol talked Eugene into hosting while they wait on the pancreas needed to start the insulin experiments. He thinks the other boy is from that last group brought in, from Ellijay.

There's no mistaking the flirting going on, or that it isn't being rebuffed.

He looks back to Jazz, who sighs and fiddles with his fork. "You were a teacher before. Don't kids usually get upset when they see their girlfriend flirting?"

Eugene's had to break up actual fist fights due to exactly that, one of his absolutely hated teacherly duties. "That is the typical reaction in my experience, particularly from the male of the species when other males admire the lady he likes too closely."

"Would you feel that way if my sister was flirting like that?"

The pieces slide together now. Jazz is seeking his advice, not so much as an experienced observer of teenage drama and angst, but for their shared differences from the rest of the world.

He answers honestly. "I would be extremely jealous indeed, although Hannah and I do not yet have any exclusive agreement that would entitle me to say anything about it."

Jazz studies the scene at the other table. He doesn't look back at Eugene as he asks, "And if all I feel is happy that she's happy?"

"Then I would either determine you are unusually enlightened as a male of the species, or that your entanglement with the young lady is more friendship than romance."

He expects the second suggestion to upset the teenager, but when Jazz looks back at him, he only looks thoughtful. "Might explain the kissing thing."

That's enough to get Eugene to set his own fork aside. "Kissing thing?" He wonders if he should be considering fetching one of the teen's relatives.

"She wants to kiss on the lips, because that's what the other couples do." A movement of his hand indicates another teenage couple more interested in tasting each other than their lunch.

"And your preference?"

"I kiss her cheek, mostly." Jazz sighs. "Kind of the same way I do my mother or sisters."

Eugene asks the question that normally might run the risk of offending the hell out of another male, but he suspects won't merit the same reaction from a Dixon. "Jazz? Are you certain you are attracted to girls? As opposed to having an attraction to your own gender instead?"

Jazz doesn't answer right away, gaze sliding among the teenagers in sight and Eugene thinks he's mulling it over. "Maybe both," he answers at last.

"Then perhaps you mistook a friendly affection for young Sophia as something more? It is my understanding that sometimes an initial attraction fades without building to anything more."

"That's what the book Cricket gave me says."

It doesn't surprise him that the boy's sister gave him a relationship book, nor that Jazz turned to a book for advice before a person.

Jazz returns to eating, so Eugene does too. They pass their meal in companionable silence until their plates are cleared and Jazz speaks again.

"You're off-duty tonight, right?"

Eugene nods. It's one of the two nights a week that off-duty run teams cover watch shifts.

"Could I come over? Everyone is going to be all involved if I'm at home."

He supposes with such a large family, made even larger by the Greenes and Patricia sharing the main house, privacy is at a premium. "You are certainly welcome."

He thinks he'll actually enjoy having company that isn't hanging about to make sure he's not isolating himself.

Jazz smiles gratefully and gathers his dishes. "I'm going to go find Jenny to see if she'll cover my supper shift tonight if I cover her laundry shift on Sunday."

Eugene nods and the boy heads off, leaving Eugene to gather his own things to take to the dishwasher station. He hesitates a moment before deciding at least some warning to those who care about Jazz is in order and goes to find Cricket.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

Jesus reaches out and snags Honey, dragging her close as silently as possible. Logan's already tucked against his side. He points out the lone man approaching the strip center they were raiding in the small town on their way back from setting up the radio system for the Bay community. Abraham is the one who called the halt, partly because of the tobacco store, Jesus suspects. No one minds, because the other shops are useful for Hilltop too.

Their visitor isn't hiding, and the throat radio report from Tim on watch is to let him approach as he appears unarmed. He's savvy enough to know he's being watched, because as soon as he's in range to speak without shouting, he does so.

"My name is Aaron. I'm from a community nearby and I keep seeing your group in the area with different people."

Jesus glances to Honey. A well-hidden community, with all the rural and urban real estate Virginia has, isn't unusual. He can see her thinking it over as Abraham steps into view. He's never figured out the way they shift who will approach a new group.

His introduction was Honey, but he knows now it's because Abraham slipped off like Tim to lie in wait in the woods. With Hilltop, they paired off, but at the Kingdom, Honey stepped forward. This last meeting, on Solomons Island, Abraham led. For all he knows, they're just taking turns.

"Any particular reason you approached us now?"

The curly-haired man smiles hesitantly. "A few days ago, you cleared a medical center near my home we haven't been able to. But you went west with that group, and I've seen you with a different group that went south. So, I'm guessing you help people."

"We do, if they're deserving."

"I need help obtaining medicines for my community. What would we have to offer in trade?"

Jesus remembers the medical center, up near Woodbridge. It wouldn't be hard to be hidden in the area around the suburban city. But the man's singing the right tune to appeal to the Georgians.

"You got a place in mind for us to raid, or is the choice up to us?"

The man shrugs. "I know of at least two untouched locations, but I'm not particular if you have a different target in mind."

Abraham's seen or heard whatever he needs, because he thrusts a big hand out. "Sergeant Abraham Ford."

"Aaron." He shakes Abraham's hand and glances back over his shoulder. "Is it okay of my partner approaches? It's just the two of us out scouting today."

Abraham consents and Jesus turns to Honey. "We're not making it back to Hilltop tonight, are we?" he asks, amused. Since the snow cleared and the radio was set up, they spent another day at the Kingdom before returning to Hilltop for two days. In the end, the entire group originally meant to stay at Hilltop opted for Ezekiel's domain instead, so they escorted the group north along with half the RVs. Unlike Gregory, Ezekiel didn't seem concerned about additional supplies, but they spent another day helping on a raid to that medical center Aaron's mentioning.

With most of their reluctant charges now settled, Honey suggested they venture out to the third community to set up communications at least. With boats and access to the Bay and Atlantic beyond it, the community on Solomons Island is better off in many areas than the Virginia communities, isolated the way they are just over the Maryland border. They don't have many farmland options though, so Hilltop's brought produce in exchange for seafood.

Honey grins. "Well, you are in charge of finding allies and trading partners, right?"

He can't complain. A third friendly local community would be a real boon for Hilltop, especially if they're willing to adapt like the others.

~*~ LG ~*~

Lori's probably the closest to alone she's been since the baby was born, with just Jazz in the house. Daryl's out on his first run, since Shane and Scout's teams are both off-duty today. Carol's redone the run schedule so that there's never a day where all her co-parents are off property at the same time. She knows emergencies or unexpected runs will happen, but the extra care is wonderful.

But Daryl's team isn't back just yet and the regular council meeting is always Friday before supper. Scout considered skipping the meeting, but Jazz arrived with a box of groceries for the cabin. The teenager offered shyly to stay, so it's just him and Lori at the moment. Carl's not back from his building crew duty for the day, and the two little girls are up at Jacqui's playing with Anaya's friends from Terminus.

The lack of people around means that Lori can actually observe Jazz with the baby without any distractions after she leaves Judith in her small bassinet to go to the bathroom. While most of Judith's time is spent skin-to-skin, they've been testing out her temperature regulation here and there with short periods bundled in the bassinet.

Jazz is attentive, leaning in and talking to the baby. It sounds like he's telling her a fairy tale, and the inflections in how he speaks remind her so much of Daryl she just pauses at the end of the hall to listen and watch.

Judith fusses at last, at the end of her tolerance for being away from warm skin and a heartbeat under her ear. Jazz looks initially panicked, but carefully reaches in. The baby looks so tiny in contrast, but quiets a little when she's brought up to have her cheek against his throat.

She realizes then that she's never seen Jazz actually hold any of the babies. He's sat next to people and played with Christian and Matthew, but unlike Carl, who is as bad as the girls on wanting a close cuddle if allowed, Jazz just plays with hands or feet. She might attribute it to his tactile issues, except he allows the elementary aged children to use him as a human-shaped jungle gym.

So, instead of going to fetch the baby, she watches a few more minutes.

He's inexperienced in handling a baby for sure, but careful. When the limited contact doesn't truly soothe Judith, he lays her back in the bassinet for a moment and sheds his henley and undershirt in one movement. The way he hunches in his shoulders worries Lori a little.

"Okay, Judy baby, okay," he croons softly, unzipping the little sleep sack Judith's wearing. Once he gets her settled against his chest, he tugs one of the myriads of fleece blankets over most of his own torso as well as the baby's. "That's better, right?"

Judith, soothed by his heartbeat, just yawns and he kisses her forehead hesitantly. He hums like Daryl's prone to, further soothing the baby that all's right in her world.

Lori steps into view, not liking how Jazz shifts his one bare shoulder more out of view. She's never thought of the teenager having any body image issues, not like Carl, who refused to swim shirtless in the big pond during the warmer weather. Then again, now that she thinks about it, Jazz didn't swim at all.

She fumbled and drops the butter knife where she's finishing off the supper Jazz brought, cursing softly as she retrieves it and rinses it off. She wracks her brain and realizes she's never seen her nephew shirtless or even in shorts, no matter how hot it was.

She lays the knife down and goes to the couch. "Lean forward a bit and I'll drop a blanket around your shoulders," she offers. He does as bid, letting her drape one if the thinner blankets around him and tuck the edges down under the blanket he already has.

"Thank you," he says softly. "I know it's just you and the baby, but I don't like being looked at."

She thinks of his uniforms and practice outfits for sports and feels a little sad for him. "Maybe you can bring a button up here for spending time with the baby." While she thinks he might manage to wear one of Merle's flannel shirts or Shane's, if he didn't try to fasten it, the boy's shoulders are already significantly broader than Daryl's slimmer form.

"I'll remember." He's quiet for a moment. "My hand covers her whole back. I'm afraid I'll squish her."

Lori smiles reassuringly. "Out of everyone here, I think you're least likely to do that, Jazz. And she's about the same size as your lambs when they're born, isn't she?"

"Yeah, but they don't need me to handle them much unless they're sick."

Considering she's seen the teenager do CPR on a newborn lamb, she really isn't worried about the care he'll have for Judith. "Just think of this as her being needy like the sick lambs."

"At least it's soft if she kicks me." He gives her a pale imitation of his usual smile. "You really love her a lot."

"More than anyone else except Carl and Abby." She loves her nephew, but Jazz isn't hers the way her own children are.

"You're a good mom, like Carol."

Lori can't remember the last time she's heard Jazz refer to Carol by her given name. "Carol loves you the same way that I love Judith and Abby and Carl."

"It's the same? With Carl and Abby and the baby?"

Oh. Merle's two youngest children adapted to Carol's mothering so nicely it's easy to forget Jazz spent fifteen years without a mother.

She sits down next to him, taking time with her answer, because she suspects anything said too quickly will be suspect.

"Used to, I would hear women I knew talk about children of choice or bonus children and thought they were being too cute about it. I didn't understand what it would be like, to gain a child without a pregnancy and years of raising them."

"And now?"

"All those feelings that come when a baby does? There was a day just like that with Abby. It wasn't even anything specific like they show in movies. We were just brushing her hair one morning and I just knew she wasn't just Daryl's daughter anymore. Felt it right here," she taps her chest, "the same way I did when they first handed me Carl or Judith."

"People usually love babies, even when they aren't theirs. That's what I always thought about Abby and Uncle Daryl."

"Do you think your father loves Sophia or Jamie any differently than he does the rest of you?" As much as Glenn's a Dixon by adoption by the girls and Carol, Lori suspects Merle's still sorting his relationship there.

Jazz shakes his head.

"Carol would want to be your mother even if she never had a relationship with your father at all." Even in Lori's own angry, resentful stage, she could see that Carol was drawn to the two youngest, motherless Dixons. She knows Carol adores the older of Merle's brood too, but none of them need a mother the way Jazz and Honey do.

"Sophia hopes she'll have a baby like Judith." Jazz's fingers are above the blanket now, smoothing Judith's soft, wavy hair.

"And what do you want?"

"I don't mind either way, but Mama probably will be happier with a baby. She wouldn't leave a baby on a doorstep."

Lori refrains from a pained noise by some level of control she didn't realize she has. She's never asked the details of Jazz's birth after the divorce and just assumed the baby was turned over to the Dixons at the hospital or something. She thinks she might need to get those details, because there's an undertone in his voice she doesn't like.

She reaches out and puts her hand gently over Jazz's atop Judith's head. "None of us would."

He gives her a genuine smile this time.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

Arriving at a new location is always a little nerve wracking for Jesus. At least he's reasonably assured of welcome here, with the Alexandrians leading the way. What they're bringing isn't a big haul by his current standards, since Abraham wasn't willing to clear locations he didn't vet himself on a newcomer's word. So, they doubled back a town and cleared out a small strip center that hosted a pharmacy, a small doctor's office, and a dental office. He's not sure why no one's hit the location, since the dollar store across the street was decimated, but with the pharmacy half-hidden in the curve of the building, maybe it just wasn't noticed.

They still managed foodstuffs by raiding the barely-touched restaurants and the back room at the grocery market. In the end, it allowed them to fill one of the big U-Haul trucks before it got late enough for Aaron and Eric to be concerned about making it home by dark.

Aaron forewarned them that weaponry isn't allowed inside Alexandria, so they stopped just out of range and packed away rifles into the bus. Jesus didn't miss that Honey's thigh holster only disappeared in lieu of the belly band she had the first day they met. He's fairly sure most of the others have similarly hidden small weaponry.

Aaron's discussion at the gate ends and he waves at them to follow him as he walks through the gates and Eric drives their little car off. Jesus pulls the U-Haul to a stop where Aaron directs him to. The three Georgia vehicles are parked a little differently, and he can hear Aaron directing his people that only the U-Haul is supplies as he opens the door.

He slides to the ground and helps Logan follow, while Honey rounds the truck to meet him at the other side. She's assessing the little community analytically, her builder's eye obvious now that Jesus knows her background. Between her and Abraham, they'll probably have a dozen improvements planned in their heads. Hilltop's already making those changes. Gregory is inept in a lot of things, but security improvements are an area he doesn't hesitate on.

"Come meet Deanna," Aaron calls out.

They follow him through town easy enough, arriving at the porch of a house that probably ran in the price range a man like him would never afford. Word's gone ahead, because an officious looking woman is stepping outside to meet them.

It seems this is going to be a Honey-led introduction, because she steps forward as Aaron realizes he doesn't know everyone. She meets the woman's formality with a sweetness that almost rings false.

"We normally do individual interviews for those looking to settle here," Deanna begins. She's obviously puzzles over the youngster taking charge, but willing to acknowledge her, unlike Gregory.

"Oh, no, ma'am, we aren't looking to settle. Aaron just asked for a bit of assistance to take on some larger locations. We have a home to get back on the road for." The emphasis on her accent is a strong reminder that Honey's not from the area. "We're happy to help a few days, maybe have a place to sleep that isn't the caravan, but we're wanting to be back home before the end of the month."

"We still should have little chats."

And that's when Honey's expression changes from sweet and accommodating to a hint of the steel he knows she has. "My people aren't to be separated."

Abraham takes a step closer at the change in tone. He's not in full military gear, but it's hard to miss his background in how he moves and Jesus can tell that Deanna notices it. She's too much of a politician not to recognize it, and Jesus thinks some of the bodyguard mythos Honey spun for her people with the Wolves just leapt into the woman's mind.

Aaron moves to smooth the issue over. "Deanna, I'm sure if they're just here to help out a few days, we can skip the formal interviews. They can stay with Eric and me."

The deciding factor ends up being three of her people approaching with boxes from the pharmacy. "Deanna, we've got months of meds here," one calls out.

"With help, we can get into the bigger locations and have even more," Aaron explains.

The former politician finally nods, going forward to look in one of the boxes. "I recognize the antibiotics. Take these to Pete." The three men hurry off. "You can really do this again?"

Honey nods. "And show your people how."

Deanna sighs, but nods. "I'll leave you to Aaron's care then."

Aaron is quiet for part of the walk to his home. "Deanna means well, but she's firmly of the idea we're the community everyone would want to be a part of. And the interviews are harmless, usually how she assigns jobs."

Honey glances back toward where the woman can still be seen on her porch. "My mother conducts newcomer interviews back home. She's never separated people to do it. It's not how people feel safe among strangers."

"Your mother is the leader at your home?" Aaron's been given even less information about Georgia than Jesus had by this point in meeting them.

"We have a six-person council. Maybe back to seven now, since Patricia had her baby."

Aaron stumbles a little. "You have babies there?" Jesus remembers the feeling of astonishment.

"Two newborns, two due in March, another due in August, and another in September. Plus, my nephew who is a year old."

"Probably a half dozen more on the way by the time we get back," Abraham adds.

"I hope you have medical staff," Aaron manages.

Honey nods. "A fair few, and more training."

"That's good luck. We have two doctors here, but one's a psychiatrist and the other, well, no one would want to train with him."

Jesus still hasn't indicated his community is a separate one and doesn't intend to until he knows these people better. The odds they could even find Honey's home are probably astronomical, but Hilltop's not as far away.

"We started out with a veterinarian and a med school student." Honey grins, the expression disarming as always. "He's still the head of our medical staff."

"Thank God for that," Christopher mutters. "Not sure I would admit to being a nurse if Edwards was in charge."

"He does seem to have all the friendly parts of his personality removed," Honey remarks.

"Sounds like our doctor here." Aaron looks thoughtful.

"And the psychiatrist? They get the same training, more or less."

"She has even less of a bedside manner. Not as abrupt, but not very social."

"Seems a really weird occupation for an introvert, but maybe life was different before for her."

They reach a house similar to Deanna's and Eric is waiting on the porch. Jesus estimates this place is about half the size of Hilltop, making it the smallest community so far. Even the Bay one is running close to Hilltop's population of a hundred with rescues along shorelines as they fish and raid for supplies.

"Welcome to our home," Eric says. He glances at Aaron hesitantly, but the other man steps close to kiss him in greeting.

He hears Honey say something softly that sounds like, "oh, how sweet."

Eric's hesitation slides away when he gets a better look at their guests, because Christopher's arm around Tim's waist can't be mistaken for anything simply friendly. Eric grins and opens the door, welcoming them into his home.

~*~ CP ~*~

"Mama?"

Carol turns from putting away laundry to see Sophia lingering in the doorway. "Do you need something, sweetheart?"

Her daughter sighs and slides her arms around Carol's waist. "Just a hug."

"Alright." Carol holds her tightly, rubbing her back and realizing she can't really refer to her as a little girl much anymore. Her last growth spurt brought her to Carol's height and just the clothing changes she's needed mark the milestone that her body shape finally left the realm of childhood for teenage girl. "Something we need to talk about?"

"Jazz and I broke up."

She doesn't sound very upset, not like the high emotions Merle reported back when the two first became a couple. She wonders how Jazz is doing, although it might explain the work shift he switched out with Jenny today. "How do you feel about that?"

Sophia sighs a little. "Okay. He explained he thinks maybe I just liked him because we met right after we left Ed."

"And what do you think?" At least the answer gives her some insight that maybe Jazz isn't terribly upset.

"That maybe he's right. He was the first boy who ever told me I was pretty."

Carol can understand that being a lure. She thinks her first middle school romance went along the same lines and lasted half as long as Sophia's.

"You are pretty." She brushes at the stray hair escaping Sophia's braids.

"I know that now." Her daughter smiles. "And Jazz may be the prettiest boy I'll ever meet, but he's not the only boy."

Carol stiffens a little. She can definitely see Jazz stepping aside if he thought Sophia's interest lay elsewhere. "Is there another boy you like?"

"No, Mama, I wouldn't do that to Jazz. He's my friend too."

She smiles at her daughter's offended tone. "You two are being very mature about this."

"It's not like he likes someone else better or that I do. We just don't like each other enough." That part sounds almost like she's repeating something, maybe something Jazz said.

"How about we tuck in with a movie? Even if it's a nice break up, a mom and daughter get to lounge around with a movie at times like this."

"Alright. Can I pick it out?" She agrees and trots off to the living room, passing Merle in the hallway.

"What's the excitement about?"

"Jazz and Sophia broke up."

Merle looks back down the hall. "She doesn't seem upset."

"She seems very matter-of-fact about it. Do you know where Jazz is?"

"Caught me after supper to say he was gonna do a Star Trek marathon down at Eugene's."

"He wasn't at supper."

"He ate down at Lori's. Shane mentioned in passing after the meeting that he was helping her with the baby."

"I guess we shouldn't make a big deal out of it if they aren't."

Merle nods in agreement as Sophia comes back with a movie held up in triumph. "Are you going to watch with us, Daddy?"

He glances at the title and laughs. "You sure you don't want just a girls' night of it?"

"Nah. Besides, you can get some tips for Valentine's Day for Mama."

He just laughs and lets himself be led to the alcove. It seems a little lopsided not to check on Jazz, but she reminds herself that her son sought her out when he was upset last time. He isn't looking for parental comfort this time, and meddling might cause upset where none exists.

~*~ LG ~*~

"Daryl?"

He turns his attention from the nursing baby to her, his smile carefree, and Lori hates bringing up a rough subject.

"Was Jazz really left on the doorstep?"

His entire expression changes, caught somewhere between sad and angry, but he nods. "Heard a knock on the door and by the time I got there, car was driving off and he was sitting on the mat in one of those carrier carseats. Had a big bag of supplies and a packet of paperwork."

"Oh my God. How in the hell do you do that?"

"That's what I asked too. Was when Merle was away." Lori's familiar by now with how Daryl refers to Merle's nine months served. "Glynnis was looking after us, since I wasn't old enough to do it legally. She had to make all sorts of arrangements to get the paperwork notarized and signed with him being where he was. Luckily, child services didn't get interested."

He trails his fingers down Judith's delicate little spine. "He was three days old and didn't even have a name, so I named him. Was nearly six months before Merle was home."

She runs her free hand through Daryl's hair, soothing him. In a way, the story's almost worse than she expected. She can't imagine dealing with that at fifteen. But if Merle was away the first six months of Jazz's life, she wonders if that's why the boy often reminds her far more of Daryl than his father.

"Where did you hear it?"

"From Jazz."

Daryl raises up, looking horrified. "He's not supposed to know."

"Somehow he does. He's been worrying about whether or not Carol can love him the way she loves Sophia, when his birth mother didn't."

"You set him straight? He's always known Abby isn't mine by blood. You'd think he would know from that, that Carol can love him that fierce."

"I think he doesn't see it the same, because he's older. So, I told him how one day, just out of the blue, I felt the same about Abby that I did when Carl was born and Judith. And I reminded him of his dad and Jamie and Sophia."

He smiles now, moving in to kiss her without jostling the baby. "You're really good at being an aunt."

She smiles back. "He's the only one who really seems to need one." The older of Merle's kids treat her as a sister-in-law, and Sophia's diverse interests keep her out of Lori's daily range mostly. Once she showed an interest in Jazz's life, the boy's made a point to spend time around her, even trading a cleaning shift for a laundry one permanently. He's actually the first Dixon other than Abby to refer to her as family.

""Bryce's wife was the closest he had to an aunt in his day-to-day life, before. He took it damned hard when she died." Daryl takes Judith to burp her.

Lori remembers Jazz's tighter than normal hug and heartfelt 'love you so much' better today than she did the day Judith was born. She doesn't think being the teenager's favorite aunt will ever be anything other than a sweet gift.


	65. Unsafe Parents

**February 7, 2011**

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle watches his son for a minute over supper. The last couple of days seem to hold to the statements of both Jazz and Sophia that their break up is mutual and friendly. The primary change seems to be that they no longer sit side-by-side at all their meals, regardless of who they're sharing them with. Sophia's among the younger group of teenagers when she isn't eating with family or working like her current supper shift. Jazz is the one who's shifted seating habits a bit, tending to sit either of his fellow veterinary apprentices or Eugene. Tonight, he's sitting with Big Tiny and Beth both, with a textbook being shared between the three and very little food being actually eaten.

He exchanges a look with Carol, remembering Lori's concern in approaching him about Jazz. It's not the first time Daryl's other half has clued in to something about his son. He's just grateful Jazz has so many options now, when he needs to talk.

"You're going to give him the letter, aren't you?" Carol says softly. Her expression is understanding, but she's pitching her voice low because they've read all the letters now. He can see giving Honey hers, as he doesn't think the two pages of explanation will pivot his daughter in any direction she's not already headed in. But he's damn near willing to burn the letters for the older two. It's not that Lilliana's said anything awful in them, but he knows Scout and Daryl and nothing in their letters is going to heal the damage they carry. For now, they're put away safely, since he can't quite take the choice away from them.

But Jazz's? It weighed just a little bit more than the other three for the kids, and when Merle and Carol opened it last night, a set of negatives was folded inside a second, blank sheet of paper. It was hard to make out the details on the dim little 35mm film strips, other than it definitely contained shots of an infant. Once everyone left for breakfast this morning, they went down to use the lightbox in Jazz's darkroom to see them more clearly. He's still hesitant about giving the letter and negatives to his son, but he thinks not knowing is worse than knowing at this point for Jazz.

He nods in response to Carol's question. She reaches out and slides his empty plate under hers and squeezes his thigh reassuringly. He kisses her briefly and rises.

The conversation he walks up on would be amusing if he weren't concerned about the letter in his office. Hershel's little apprentice group is distracted from their studies by something bordering gossip.

"Jasper? Why's your friend keep looking at me like I'm the boogeyman?" Big Tiny is asking.

Beth and Jazz both look up, following the older man's line of sight. Patricia's fosterling, Al, is giving the big guy a look that would make a lesser man turn tail and run. Big Tiny just seems confused.

Beth giggles and Jazz seems pretty amused himself.

"He's mad because Melina keeps flirting with you," Jazz explains. "He doesn't care that you haven't been flirting back."

The blonde teenager nods. "Melina has a crush on you, Titus. Well, if you still call it that when you're older."

Big Tiny's confusion deepens and Merle lets himself be distracted to see where this is going. "She just gives me extras at supper."

"Yeah, but she doesn't just put extra food on your plate. She keeps asking your favorites. You haven't noticed how there's always one of your favorites every night at supper yet?" Beth asks.

"Oh." Big Tiny looks between the two teenagers and sighs. "Why's he mad about it? Isn't she a little old for him?"

"She's a little bit like his sister, looked after him before they came here," Jazz explains. "From Grady."

Merle can see the pieces slide into place for Big Tiny with that last word. He knows all the ex-convicts are well aware of the Grady and Terminus background. While the Grady ladies have been moving past their trauma and some even settling in relationships, it's still a tricky area for the community at times.

"Tell him for me, I'm not gonna bother Miss Melina. Didn't even know it was her name til now."

Merle reminds himself to pass this little bit of gossip along to Carol. She'll be more equipped to ferret out if there are still issues for young Al in regards to Grady and his overprotectiveness of Melina.

"Jazz?" Calling his son's name gets everyone's attention, and he smiles in response to Beth's bright greeting. "Can you meet me in my office after you finish eating? I've got something to show you."

"Sure, Dad." His son glances at what little's left on his plate and stacks his cutlery on top. "Pretty much done now."

Merle waits for him near the exit while Jazz goes to drop his dishes off. Jazz is quiet as they fall in step beside each other, but that's not unusual if he's not already got a topic he wants to talk about. The short walk goes by a little too quickly for Merle, who now second guesses himself. But they're in the office and Jazz is looking at him expectantly, so he opens the locked drawer and takes out the envelope.

"Your aunt came to me about something you said the other day, about how you became part of the family."

He watches Jazz's anticipation fade as the boy's expression closes off, but he doesn't speak.

"Who told you that you were left at the door?" he asks, trying to keep his voice calm. He hopes it wasn't carelessness on anyone's part, as they've always tried not to ever let on that anything happened other than Lilliana giving up custody so Jazz could grow up with his siblings.

"Abby's mama."

Damn that woman to hell. Sometimes, he thinks he hates his ex-sister-in-law far more than he's ever held rancor for his ex-wife. Even at the worst point, a part of him knew Lil was damaged, not mean. Carrie, on the other hand, just keeps proving to be a dyed-in-the-wool bitch.

"She just told you?"

"Not directly. Overheard her screaming at Glynnis one day, when she was mad cos Glynnis didn't take her side of things in the divorce."

"Why didn't you come to anyone about it?" Jesus Christ Almighty. His son has carried this around all on his own for maybe five years.

"Everyone was already upset about losing Abby." Jazz shrugs. "And we already had all my therapists to deal with."

He drags his son into a bear hug, feeling relief when Jazz melts into him without any resistance. The teenager is bigger than he is now, but it only serves to remind Merle of the struggling ten-year-old who's worked so hard to grow into who he is today.

"Son, I don't care if the whole damn world's on fire around us. Something like this ever bothers you again, I want you to come to me. You're just as important as anything else going on. Do you understand that?" His voice is so thick with emotion he's surprised Jazz can understand him, but his son nods against his shoulder.

He lets Jazz pull away and meets the eyes so like his own. "I love you, son."

"I know that, Dad. Love you too." Jazz's attention is on the envelope that's gotten slightly squashed.

Merle turns the creamy paper over in his hands, taking a deep breath. "Few years back, one of your sisters got in touch with your birth mother. She had questions I couldn't answer."

"Cricket."

"Yeah. Over time, Lil sent some letters through her, to pass on to me. Cricket's been holding on to them a while, but decided it shouldn't be up to her to decide when anyone was ready for them." He offers the envelope to Jazz. "I'll be honest with you that your mama and I read it first. Wasn't going to hand you some half-assed explanation or excuses."

Jazz takes the envelope with a steadiness Merle doesn't expect and looks inside, but doesn't remove the paper. "Negatives?"

He nods. "Used your lightbox to take a peek at them. Keep them, store them, or burn them. It's all your choice. But I figured you deserve to know more than you do."

"I'm gonna..." Jazz takes a step toward the door, obviously intending to look everything over in private, but he stops. "Dad?"

"Yeah, son?"

"You didn't know about me, before, did you?"

"No, Jasper, I didn't know. Doesn't matter though, not where you're concerned. You're still the best unexpected gift I ever got."

It gets him a rib-crushing hug from his son before the boy mutters another 'love you' and ducks out of the office.

Fucking hell. Protecting his son from the legacy of his birth is going to be lodged among his greatest parenting mistakes. He just hopes that damned letter will exorcise the ghost of his arrival in the world for Jazz.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

Out of all of the Georgians, Jesus figured when someone finally kicked over the apple cart in Alexandria, it would end up being Honey, Abraham, or Andrea.

Instead, it's the normally calm, friendly, flirty Christopher.

It's their third and last day helping the Alexandrians, and they're just about to eat supper at the farewell dinner Deanna insisted on hosting for the community as a thank you for the Georgians help. Jesus still hasn't made up his mind about revealing Hilltop to these people. The dilemma is strong enough that he's even borrowed the radio to consult with Ezekiel at the Kingdom. They're both warring with the idea that a vulnerable community like Alexandria puts them all at risk, but at the same time, the other three communities are progressing forward whereas Alexandria is stagnant and trying to dwell in the past.

It's not that their own communities don't have members who couldn't make it outside the walls. The problem with Alexandria is that of the fifty-three residents, he thinks less than a dozen are even remotely capable of surviving the new world. That's with lumping ones like Deanna's husband Reg in as capable, because he spearheaded putting the walls up and those are why this community survived this far. But Reg is like Jesus, willing to support the leader, but not wanting to _be_ the leader.

Today wasn't even spent on supply runs, but on the Georgians trying to lay out basic survival skills the Alexandrians need to learn. With stocks of the air rifles in place here now, he watched Honey lead shooting lessons only to have her frustration grow when only five of the students take it very seriously. He supposes it should be a relief that Deanna's two sons, a supply runner, and the two recruiters are the ones paying attention.

Honey walked away from their practice with a pissed off expression, muttering to Aaron and Eric as they reached Jesus and Logan about the old adage about the enlisted men being the ones in the military that do the real work. Apparently, the snottier one of the Monroe brothers was in ROTC when the world went down. The fact that the man needs shooting lessons makes Jesus agree with Honey's assessment.

They're not even to the porch yet when Christopher comes striding up looking furious. He doesn't even halt at Honey's concerned greeting, striding onto the porch and snatching Dr. Anderson from where he's just greeting Deanna and Reg. The nurse's punch knocks the older man completely off the porch, and Jesus can hear the crunch of bone.

Honey's between the two men in a heartbeat, her arms wrapped around Christopher's waist halting the man's movement down the steps. From his expression, one punch wasn't his only intent for the doctor.

"Kit, what's wrong?" Honey demands. People are exiting Deanna's house to gather on the porch, but Alexandria's leader seems content to allow Honey handle Christopher for now.

"This goddamn place is harboring a fucking abuser."

With no reason not to believe Christopher and a general dislike of Pete when he's met him, Jesus makes sure Logan is firmly behind him. Pete's getting to his feet, shouting profanities, but Honey's people are all present now. When Pete takes a step toward Honey's unprotected back, Abraham goes over the porch railing, landing with ease and shoving one huge arm between the man and Abraham's friend.

"Make one more move toward a woman in front of me, asshole, and I'll make sure you're as useless to these people as tits on a boar hog," the sergeant growls out. Something in his expression convinces Pete, because the man backs up several steps. From the amount of blood on his face, Christopher broke his nose.

It gives Honey time to question Christopher further. "What happened, Kit?" she asks. Jesus hasn't heard her use the nickname before, but he's gotten enough of the group's background over the last few weeks to know that these two grew up together, more or less.

"One of the other kids came and got me when I was down talking to the other doctor. Said her friend was hurt." Christopher is still on the knife's edge of rage and it bleeds into his voice. "Kid's got three broken fingers. Asshole there slammed a door on them last night."

"Could have been an accident," someone calls out. "Pete's our doctor."

As if being a doctor makes him incapable of abusing someone. Jesus snorts.

"Sam admitted to having a lock inside his closet that his mother put there to keep him safe. Man's beating on the boy's mother too."

Christopher isn't fighting Honey anymore, so she releases him. The nurse is staring at Pete, and if looks could kill, the man would be a walker right now. Logan makes a sound behind Jesus and tugs at his coat. When he looks behind him, Logan points to where a blonde woman is standing, trembling hands on a boy's shoulders. The boy must be Sam, and he looks no older than Logan. His left hand has three splinted fingers. The other doctor, the head shrinker, is hovering just beyond the woman and child.

"I had hoped it was getting better," Deanna says.

All of the Georgians go from angry-but-concerned to _pissed_ and with the exception of Abraham, round on Deanna. "You know about this bullshit?" Andrea demands. "And allow it?"

"He's our doctor. What would we do without a doctor here?"

Andrea takes three steps toward Deanna, and Jesus thinks they're about to see another Alexandrian get punched when Elias catches her wrist.

"You've got another doctor standing _right there_," Honey grind out, pointing right the female doctor. "Our only doctor for a while was a veterinarian. You've at least got a second one trained for people."

"She's a psychiatrist," Deanna says, voice wavering a little as she seems to reconsider her passivity in the face of the irate Georgians.

"That still means she's got years of medical school, same as the piece of shit behind me."

She turns, ignoring Deanna for the moment and steps next to Abraham. "You know what my people do to men like you?"

"No more than these people will. I have value to them," Pete replies, voice distorted by the damage to his nose.

Honey laughs, something dark and ill-humored in the sound that makes Jesus shiver. "We don't allow monsters to live."

"We don't kill people here," Deanna cries out.

That gets Andrea started again. "No, you're just a spineless bitch who stands by while someone else potentially beats your people to death. Because that's what's going to happen one day, and you're going to whine and cry and give such a speech about what a fucking tragedy it is when you end up burying that boy or his mama." Elias lets the blonde go, and she's in Deanna's face. None of Deanna's people intervene. "That makes you an even worse monster than he is."

"I'm nothing like he is."

"You're exactly like he is, a sniveling coward who's leader here by default because some dumbasses elected you in a different world and they still equate having enough money to win an election with leadership ability."

"You can't talk to my mother like that," Aiden intervenes. Took the idiot long enough to speak up on his mother's behalf.

"By her own rules, I sure can," Andrea spits out. "If having more value than the average person here means you're above the rules, then I'm one of the people who spent the last couple of days bringing in enough food and medicines to last your people til spring. That's just as valuable as a doctor who sits on his ass most of the day and treats the occasional sniffle while beating on his family behind closed doors."

Both Honey and Abraham are letting the blonde have her say. There's a tenseness to his friend's form that reminds him she's on as much a hair-trigger as Abraham's more obvious temper. Pete makes two steps forward while Honey's attention is on Deanna and Andrea, and Abraham makes good on his threat about getting close to a woman. The man's screaming on the ground within a minute, although Jesus doesn't think Abraham broke any additional bones. The combat boot square in the man's crotch, holding him in place on the ground, definitely is behind the screaming.

"Shut the fuck up, asshole," Abraham commands. "Before I crush your tiny balls outta existence."

Jesus wonders if the Alexandrians are just more sheep than people, or if their group inaction is because no one wants an abuser in their midst but they're just too cowardly to do anything about it themselves. Pete's screaming quiets under the very real threat Abraham is exerting to his groin.

"Since Alexandria doesn't take out the trash like they should, perhaps the punishment should be in the eye for an eye category," Honey suggests. No one realizes what she means until she very deliberately stomps Pete Anderson's left hand with her booted foot. She stares at the man gurgling in pain for a moment before turning back to their audience. "My people decline the invitation to dine among those who aid and abet men like this. We'll be leaving tonight." She glances at the woman and child with some expression of regret, but Jesus realizes that while the woman is weeping, the boy is not. "Mrs. Anderson, I can't make you leave this place, but I can promise you sanctuary, for you and your son."

"My brother too?" the boy calls out.

"Of course, your brother too."

The blonde woman looks from her husband, bleeding and weeping on the ground, to the young woman standing over him and speaks for the first time. "Is it safe, where you are? Can he find us?"

"It's safer than here, and damn near impossible for him to find us. But if he did, we don't allow monsters among our people. He'd be put down like one of the walking dead the second he approached our walls." She looks around at the crowd. "Anyone else who doesn't feel safe here? You're welcome to come as well."

The Georgians are gathered around Honey now, with only Andrea still on the porch. The blonde takes the time to step even closer to Deanna, her expression cold as ice. "Once, we had a community come to us for help where the leader decided that keeping her important people happy was more important than the rest of her people's safety. Let the men prey on the women. We put down every single rapist there, but you know who got the last bullet?"

Deanna looks panicked, but shakes her head.

"The leader who allowed it all to happen." She scoffs at the ex-congresswoman as Deanna stumbles backward and joins her companions on the ground.

Logan's small hand slips into Jesus' as they walk away to gather their things from Aaron and Eric's home.

"Kidnapping's a bad idea, right?" Honey mutters to him as they walk.

Jesus isn't entirely sure it is. He doesn't know if Mrs. Anderson will accept the escape offered and protect her children or not, but he can certainly understand the impulse to remove the children bodily from the situation.

There's not enough time to make it to Hilltop tonight, unless they drive in the dark, but he agrees with the idea to leave. Gregory's a lot of unadmirable things, but Jesus likes to believe that he wouldn't allow this.

~*~ JD ~*~

Jazz locks the basement bathroom door behind him, grateful everyone's still at supper and he didn't have to dodge his roommates or any visitors. The Dixon basement often has a handful of teenagers present in the evening, since it's reasonably comfortable and not under immediate adult supervision. He flips switches to convert the room from bathroom to dark room, but sits there at his lightbox for five minutes, the unopened envelope in his hands.

His dad's already looked at what's inside and deemed it safe for him. More importantly, his _mother_ has looked, and he thinks Carol's probably more paranoid about emotional disturbances than Merle. He slides the contents out into his hand and separates the letter from the negatives. There are only three strips of six photos each, not a full roll for 35mm film, and the last strip is dark on the last two frames. Sixteen mystery photos. He places them one by one on the lightbox and flips the switch.

He's seen photos of himself as a baby before. Most are clumsily taken, framed by Daryl or his sisters, with a few group shots taken by Glynnis. But those don't start until he's about a month old. The older he's gotten, the more he can imagine the chaos of suddenly having a baby on hand, with Glynnis already caring for four children, so he's always done his best to understand that the photo chronology of his life starts later than his sisters'. Compared to Daryl, who has no photos of himself before age two, he shouldn't complain.

Here on his lightbox are sixteen photos that show him that despite everything he's thought of his birth mother since he was ten years old, she cared enough to document his earliest days and save the negatives for _years_. The letter's almost surplus at this point. He sets it aside and studies the negatives and sets to work.

When sixteen photos hang on the lines around him, he looks from image to image. All of the photos but one just focus on his newborn self.

He overheard his dad tell Cricket once that their mother loved them as much as she was capable. He used to think that wasn't very much, at least where he was concerned.

He's never actually seen a photo of his mother, by his own choice. He knows they exist. The offer's always been available that his father will go through the album he keeps put away with any of the children. When he was young, he didn't care to see pictures of a stranger. He had his father and his sisters and Daryl and Glynnis, plus Christopher and his family.

When he got older, he was too angry to want to see them. Just the thought of his birth mother made him want to destroy any evidence she existed.

_She threw him away._

The one photo that's not just him doesn't fix all that ache from thinking his own mother didn't want him. But there in clear black and white, is his newborn self being held by his mother with all the care that he's seen Lori handle Judith with.

He leans in to study the woman in the image, the only one he enlarged more than a 4x6. Maybe it's a good thing that he's never seen a picture until now, because he sees her and thinks she looks like Honey, not that his sister looks like their absent mother. Those unique features will always be his sister's first in his mind.

He wishes his sister were home. He loves his eldest sisters, but Honey's the one he's grown up alongside. She's been his best friend and fiercest protector his entire life. He's never been apart from her for more than a week before.

She's the one who rejected the schools' insistence on Mother's Day projects by teaching him to cross out 'Mother's Day' and write in 'Father's Day Eve'. His dad displayed every project they both did that way with pride.

He picks up the envelope and studies it for a moment. The pictures were the easy part. He trusts images more than words, because it's too easy to lie with just words.

But he needs to know, so he pulls out the single sheet of handwritten paper and begins to read.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol can't settle. Just knowing that Jazz took that envelope off somewhere, probably by himself, is enough to make her skin itch. Merle's in the shower, and she's read the current page in her book six times without comprehending a thing.

"Mama."

Jazz is in the doorway, swaying a little on his feet. As soon as she looks up, he darts over to her, kneeling by the couch and hugging her. It's so similar to the first time he relied on her for comfort that she feels herself tear up as he clings to her and cries.

She runs her fingers through his hair, soothing him as if he were much younger, until he runs out of tears. Merle is out of the bathroom now, but he's taken a seat and watches them with dark, haunted eyes.

If Cricket, older and more educated, struggles with the idea that she wasn't safe with her mother, how do they help Jazz understand?

Jazz finally mumbles against her lap. "Love you, Mama."

"I love you too, Jasper, always."

He looks up and gives her the sweetest smile. She realizes then that she's his safety net when he's upset.

Maybe helping Jazz is exactly this simple.


	66. Agofli'e

**February 9-10, 2011**

~*~ Jesus ~*~

Jesus watches the outdoor cookout with a mixed level of contentment. It's nice, to see the Hilltop folks congregating and enjoying themselves. The day's taken a turn toward winter cold, compared to the last few warmer days, but it didn't derail the plans for the cookout. The Georgians really should have gotten back on the road today, but instead, Honey and Elias woke him early to go hunting with them, with Logan staying behind with Christopher. Danny trailed along, but it was fairly clear that the young Marine was along more for muscle and lookout for the two hunters. It turned out to be a good thing, because they bagged two deer and a half dozen rabbits.

Fresh meat and no worries about food for the rest of the winter has Hilltop in the mood to celebrate.

The immigrants from Alexandria are intermingling. They surprised him a little, with a half dozen people showing up. The first two to show up at the Georgian vehicles were a woman and the orphaned teenager she was fostering. Aaron and Eric, helping them ready to leave, looked sad and surprised both. Apparently, even holding a more exalted position didn't make folks want to stay in Alexandria, since Olivia was their quartermaster. Then again, that might make her better aware that things in their area weren't run as smoothly as claimed. With a child under her responsibility, it moved her to take a better option when she saw it.

He thought Honey would quite literally melt with relief when Mrs. Anderson and her sons showed up, with the slightly unexpected addition of the psychiatrist. With a trio fleeing an abusive home, he's glad she came along, even if he suspects Denise is less comfortable with people as a whole than he is.

The only real disappointment is that Aaron and Eric stayed behind. The two men are important to Alexandria's continued well-being, but Jesus is sensitive enough to undercurrents among people to know that the gay couple isn't truly accepted among the Alexandrians. While he and Ezekiel eventually both decided not to reveal their community locations to the leadership of Alexandria, he did tell the men in private where Hilltop was. He wants them to have options - or a refuge - if needed. It's not that Hilltop's any more open-minded, since he's seen some of the looks that Tim and Christopher get, but at least Hilltop's more stable.

Honey's circulating among the people with an ease he envies. He remembers Andrea's comment at the Kingdom about how Honey could have been a politician if the world hadn't ended and smiles. He can picture it clearly, her running for office in ten years or so, if they still had them. Instead, he thinks she'll probably take over one of her parents' places in running Homestead one day, if she doesn't get a wild hair to found her own community before then.

"You're looking awfully solemn for a party," Christopher says, taking a seat on an overturned bucket next to him and passing him a bottle of soda. It won't be long before there's no more of the sugary treats, he thinks.

"Just realizing it's going to be far more quiet around here after tomorrow," he admits at last.

"You know the invitation's open for you to go with us."

"I know. But I'm needed here." He doesn't think he'd fit in well at Homestead, in some ways, because he's picked up enough of their system to know that someone wandering on their own like he does would probably give Honey's mother a stroke. They don't necessarily need someone like him there, and Hilltop does.

"You gonna hold to your promise to visit?"

Something in the nurse's tone makes him turn to look at Christopher. "Of course. It's not the impossible journey I thought it might be before."

"Good. I wasn't looking forward to having to come track you down if you broke her heart by breaking that promise."

"Christopher, we aren't a couple. You realize that?" His own people making that assumption is one thing. But he was pretty certain Honey's knew better, although thinking on it, only Elias and Abraham were present for the conversation he had with Honey about his sexuality.

The other man does nod. "I was fairly certain you weren't sleeping with her since you two never ask anyone else to watch Logan. Besides, I've known her since she was six years old. I usually know the subtle differences in how she treats a man she's sleeping with." He tips his bottle toward where Honey's leaning against Tim and talking to some of their shooting students. "It's how I knew when she stopped sleeping with Tim."

That startles him and he does try to analyze the body language between the indicated pair. It's just friendly, no more or less than he's seen her with anyone else. "You were both sleeping with him?"

That gets him a shrug. "It overlapped for a week or two. I've never directly asked when they stopped, but it was before he and I realized we wanted something more than casual around the new year. I'm just waiting on her to catch up to the fact she's serious about her awkward little engineer she left back home."

"If you think she's in love with him, why caution me about breaking her heart?"

Christopher gives him a sad smile. "You can love someone without being _in_ love with them, my friend, and I assure you, Hannah Dixon's claimed you as one of hers. Her family doesn't turn loose easily once they love you." His smile brightens. "Dated her sister for three years, and I think I've spent more holidays with Honey's family than her own sister in the last ten years."

That startles Jesus a little. The obvious affection between the two men makes it easy to assume they've been a couple a long time. "You're bisexual, like Tim?"

"No." The other man laughs. "I was a fifteen-year-old queer kid in rural Georgia in the late nineties. My best friend was a biracial girl in an area almost exclusively white. People assumed we were dating, so we just went along with it. By the time she left for the Marines and I left for college, I was family and they dragged my brother in too. My mother does her best to ignore any partner I have, but Honey's father? He invites them to dinner and gives them a shovel talk on my behalf, although my last boyfriend before the outbreak said Honey was more terrifying with hers."

"It must make for a unique place to live, with her family mostly in charge." The long association with her family explains why Christopher speaks Chamorro fluently, without any of the hesitation Danny has.

"Perhaps. More importantly, it's safe for people like me, and not the bullshit acceptance Alexandria has for Aaron and Eric because they're useful."

"You sound like Honey in trying to convince me to leave."

"As much as I wish you would come with us, I understand your reasoning the same way I understand Aaron and Eric's. Hopefully one day both communities will be at a point where your assistance is no longer needed, or they'll realize like we do that life's too fucking short for caring about who is in whose bedroom."

"Some would argue that procreation's a pretty big issue now." Jesus can almost see ideas about babies floating around his community now, with word via Harlan that another community is having a baby boom. Knowing there's adequate food and decent allies out there? He suspects Hilltop will have its own baby boom before long.

"Procreation doesn't require a lifelong monogamous commitment between the biological parents. Straight couples have been proving that for centuries, and I've certainly known enough lesbian couples who've worked around that issue." Christopher shrugs. "Besides, if the male versus female population of Virginia keeps on the pattern I've been seeing, men are the surplus here."

Jesus knows Hilltop certainly leans that way, with very few actual single women. Most of the women here made it to Hilltop with at least a husband, several with children also. It's the benefit of the community being established early on by the government. Those who've been found later, those families usually aren't intact anymore.

"I won't forget to visit," he adds finally, remembering what started the discussion. "And we have the radios."

The happy murmur of conversations over good food is interrupted... by Andrea's resounding slap.

"Damn. Wonder who won the bet?" Jesus mutters.

The blonde certainly got some swing into the blow, because you can see the imprint of her hand along Gregory's cheek. But instead of taking the upscaled rejection and saving face by walking off, the man just has to push his luck.

"It's the end of the world, you snotty bitch. You holding out for a doctor or a lawyer still? Guess I can see the value of a doctor, but why not a leader instead of that boy?"

Andrea just laughs, but the sound is mocking. "I _was_ a lawyer before, you idiot. Why the hell would I want a man to define my level of success? And if I did wake up tomorrow with a sudden need to pair off, it certainly wouldn't be with a spineless asshole who requires payment to do the right thing. Leader? I've met children with better leadership abilities than you."

"Is that why you answer to a child instead of leading yourself?"

"I answer to a _young woman_ because I acknowledge that she's got more experience outside the protection of walls than I do."

Jesus glances to Honey, to see her reaction, and she hasn't moved from her spot leaned against Tim. She's watching intently, but obviously none of the Georgians see Gregory as a potential threat for Andrea. He debates intervening, but he's tired of arguing with or for the man. Let him rescue his own ass this time.

"She's surviving because she has men to protect her."

"Let's just ask your own people what they think." She points to one of the men that Honey's led on a supply run. "You feel like you were protecting your run leader at that Costco the other day?"

The man shakes his head. "Was her that saved Roger when he didn't check that bathroom clearly enough."

That confirmed, Andrea grandstands to the crowd. "This is who you let lead your community, Hilltop? A chauvinistic pig whose only qualification seems to be that no one else wants to do the paperwork? Even more importantly, a man who doesn't understand the concept of being told no by a woman?"

Grumbles move through the crowd, and Jesus watches carefully to see who isn't objecting. Andrea has a point. As funny as the ongoing issue with Gregory's fascination with Andrea can be, what's to stop him from exerting more pressure on a woman less willing to speak up for herself? The idea makes him feel sick to his stomach. They'll have to keep a close eye out. No one will condemn him on a maybe.

"Are you suggesting a coup?" Gregory asks, aghast.

She turns back to Gregory with a glare. "A community is only as good as its leadership, and these people deserve a better chance than a man like you can give them. You aren't royalty, asshole, and even kings fall if they fail to lead."

"You think you can lead better than I can?"

"I wouldn't even try to be the sole leader of a community this large. There's a reason our home is led by a council and not a single person. We have continuity and more than one set of knowledge put into the significant decisions. No one person is stuck with all the work either."

"It could work here too," comes a remark from someone too far away for Jesus to make out in the limited lighting. Male. Maybe Earl, the blacksmith.

It gains momentum, and Jesus can see the moment that Gregory folds and elects to hold on to any section of power he can - even if shared. "And who you do think should help me lead?"

The people aren't ready for a full-blown overthrow of leadership, he suspects, because someone asks, "Who should be on a council with Gregory?"

Andrea's expression makes him think she may have blown up loudly on purpose. She looks triumphant, and he believes her lawyer background right now. He bets she looked similar in a courtroom, before.

The residents of Hilltop descend into conversation all around. It seems Hilltop is gaining a council.

~*~ AF ~*~

Abraham sits watch in the bus, watching as Hilltop beds down for the night. The community already made changes even before Andrea spawned a successful coup of the leadership structure. He could probably sleep, let his people sleep too, but it's too ingrained now to keep a watch. Only reason they didn't at the Kingdom is that it's the only place they've seen in Virginia that seems to take security half as serious as Homestead.

He's ready to be on the road home, though. Part of him thinks he might be more useful here, in a place about to have serious changes and growing pains, but that means letting go of stability he's managed and he's not ready for that yet. It'll be interesting to return in six months to see how far they've come.

He flicks the ash of his cigar out the cracked bus window and watches Andrea meander back to the camper from wherever she spent the last few hours. He hopes she's being cautious, because this ain't Homestead and all their blood tests that make the lax attitudes about who beds who possible.

He's surprised at himself for feeling no urge to accept the invitation he got tonight or the one back at the Kingdom. He knows the other two single men haven't spent all their nights alone any more than Andrea has. But the urge just isn't there for him. He suspects Hershel would tell him it's a sign he's healing a little and doesn't need vices to the extreme to cope.

He hopes it's the truth.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

Jesus leaves the bathroom and pads into his bedroom. Logan's curled up asleep already, but Honey's still awake, propped on a pillow and scribbling away in a notebook with a box of Logan's colored pencils beside her.

Knowing he could probably sing show tunes and not wake Logan when he feels safe, he asks, "Did Andrea plan that tonight?" It's the first chance he's had to ask after the abrupt change for Hilltop's leadership. Nothing he said got him out of his seat on the council. He's only grateful that apparently his primary job is still to be out and beyond the walls.

He's more surprised by the fact that two of the five people now joining Gregory are newcomers. The former Alexandrian quartermaster and the man whose journey to Georgia is the entire reason Honey's people are here are also on the council. The other two who managed the impromptu election are Harlan and Bertie the school teacher.

"Yeah."

He's not surprised she admits it. "Why? Why now?"

"Because we're going to be far away, and we like your people. We don't want you to be at risk."

It's an admission it wasn't solely Andrea's idea, at least. He shouldn't be surprised. "I didn't want to be a leader."

She puts the notebook aside and gives him a wistful smile. "I know. My sister keeps trying to get out of her council seat too. Sometimes, though, you need people in power who don't want to be there. You're the balance to Gregory."

He lets himself be tugged to the bed, lying so that his head's in her lap and he can watch Logan sleep across her. "I won't even be able to complain to you when he does something stupid." He misses her companionship already and she's not even gone, and he doesn't even want to think about missing Logan. Christopher was right in his implication that she's his family now.

There are fingers in his hair now, carding through the length slowly and methodically. "We'll talk, when we can. You'll visit us, and we'll come back to visit you since Noah's family is staying but they still want him to finish an apprenticeship at Homestead."

He wonders if that'll last as her life grows more complicated. She has someone back home. Eventually, in the way of things, she'll probably end up married. He supposes he could see life here as temporary.

"Eugene suggested we look into establishing a railroad for future traveling. He thinks it would be safer in the long run because we can repair tracks easier than roadways."

"I have this mental image of you going down the tracks on a handcart."

She giggles, one hand leaving his hair to trail along his upper spine and back. She likes to touch and he's soaked up the attention like a sponge. "Well, at least it wouldn't require fuel, but I suspect it might take a while to get here."

"We'll have to figure out what makes trading trips worthwhile."

"Think Earl would be willing to take on apprentices? Blacksmithing is something we don't have exact training on."

"That explains your fascination with his forge. But yes, he probably would be willing. Surprised someone wanted to learn, but willing."

"Good. We've got to keep skills passed on. Not everything can be learned from books."

They both fall quiet and he enjoys the attention, almost falling asleep in her lap before he remembers the notebook. It's not her usual daily notebook that fits in a cargo pocket or the one that she used for notes from Ezekiel's books. He realizes he's seen her with it several times the last few days.

"What were you working on so intently while I was in the shower?"

She reaches over him for the notebook and hands it to him. He raises to one elbow to page through it and smiles. It's a primer of sorts for her native language, the one her team uses on the radio for added security.

"It's not a real substitute for one of the textbooks back home if you wanted to be fluent, but it's enough to use as a code language when needed. Ezekiel probably still has a working copier in that old school."

He's not entirely sure he wants to share it as a direct copy. She's accompanied most pages with a quirky illustration or two. Anytime the illustration requires a person, the little stick figures are obviously him, complete with a blue cap, long hair, and squiggles for a beard.

"Thank you," he says at last, tracing one of the little figures with his finger.

"Jesus?"

He looks up to see her expression is solemn. "If I leave Oso with you, will you take him with you when you journey?"

"I'm not sure it's safe for him. I'm on foot as much as I drive."

"It'd be safer for you most of the time if he's with you." She cups his face with one hand. "I don't like the idea of you being out there completely alone, or even here, alone."

"It's a state I was used to before the world ended."

"Well, that doesn't make me feel better about it. Will you keep Oso, even if he stays here while you travel? I'm sure Michael or Olivia will look after him when you're on the road."

He's fairly sure Michael Fisher will do anything short of murder for the sister of one of the doctors who saved his life. He thinks about the huge dog, who asleep in the living room while Augustus is with some of the others. Oso is highly intelligent and he's fond of the spotted critter. He can't argue that he wouldn't mind the companionship.

"I suppose he's a better roommate than some I've had before."

It's enough of an answer to make her smile. She takes the notebook and puts it back on the nightstand before wriggling down into the bed properly.

He doesn't mind being guided into being her pillow for the night. The problem is going to be learning to sleep without the sounds of others around him.

~*~ AF ~*~

Abraham normally doesn't get bossy with his team, but today he didn't take no for an answer when he assigned Honey and her boy to ride along with him. Last thing either of them need is an audience when the reality of the separation from their third amigo sets in, and while last night's events did lower the number of people headed to Georgia by ten with some of Shirewilt's remaining citizens electing to stay behind with the Fisher family, it's still a good number of people he doesn't know. They've got that poor woman and her sons and the psychiatrist along, too.

They don't even clear the city limits south of Culpepper before the boy's cried himself to sleep. It takes Honey longer to give in, and it's quiet when she does. The silent tears bother him more than if she sobbed, so he reaches out to squeeze her shoulder.

She glances at him, and the tears make her look younger than she is. Despite her looking nothing like his Becca, it doesn't seem to matter much in his need to fix something unfixable.

"You know, we could turn around. I'm pretty sure that between me and Tim and Danny, we can take the man down. Lotsa duct tape and we can be halfway home before we let him loose. Get him down there to your mama's clutches and he'll be mothered into staying."

Carol would, too. Jesus has just enough hint of lost boy to him that the Dixon matriarch would latch on to the young man and adopt him as one of her own.

She giggles and takes a deep breath, reaching up to squeeze his hand on her shoulder. "Thanks, Abe. But they keep telling me I can't kidnap people for their own good, so I think Mama might frown on us bringing him home that way."

He gives her shoulder a pat and drops his hand back to the steering wheel. "We can say it's the boy's idea. He's too cute for her to stay mad at."

She smiles at that and wipes at her face, drying the tears so she looks more like the young woman he swore on his own life to Carol he'd protect and less like a girl his Becca's age.

He hopes getting her home to her family and Eugene will cure most of her heartache. The little boy, well, he's sure that being swarmed into Clan Dixon will soothe his hurts as well.

They've been gone a month now and he's hoping to make the trip home in three or four days. Hopefully his friend Eugene will appreciate getting his girlfriend back for Valentine's Day.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

Starting out his first day as a member of the Hilltop council by going on a run probably isn't the best example to set, but they knew what they were getting when they selected him. He tried to stick around and involve himself, but after agreeing he would teach a self-defense class, he realizes there's not really anything he has to be here for. Harlan's used to being the voice of reason when he's outside the walls and is more than capable of helping Hilltop adjust.

It only took one trip to the trailer to feel how empty it is with them gone for him to feel the itch to move under his skin. There's too much there that reminds him who isn't. Hugging them goodbye this morning was nearly physically painful. Even life going from group home to foster home and back didn't prepare him for the ache in his chest.

The best and worst part is the carefully drawn loose sheet he finds in the notebook wrapped around a Polaroid of her and Logan with him, taken at the Kingdom. Most of the little primer are useful words, with little of the cultural meaning, but this one page and its photo are obviously meant just for him.

Agofli'e, inked on the bottom of the Polaroid in permanent marker. Her expressive cursive on the explanatory page goes on to explain that the base word means literally "to see", but it's meant to express platonic affection or love. Gofli'e, to really see someone, a word now adapted to express platonic love. Agofli'e, to indicate it's mutual.

Coming from the first person in a long time that's really seen him, with that look of understanding she sometimes got that made him forget her chronological age entirely, the words suits.

He wonders if Honey would be amused that he didn't make it past ten a.m. before he's clearing the gates with Oso at his side. The dog looks as down as he feels.

"You miss them, too, don't you, buddy?"

Talking to the dog means he expects his ears scratched, so Jesus obliges. "Let's go find something useful, boy."

The Polaroid rides in a pocket safe above his heart. He grew up alone and adrift, something that colored his adult life and made him unable to feel settled or secure. But now, no matter where he goes, there are two people in this world who are especially his.

Agofli'e, indeed.


	67. Happy Looks Good

**February 10, 2011**

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol's never had a lazy birthday morning before, unless there's some long-ago memory from when she was a kid she can't dredge up anymore. But it's past ten and she's still in bed, with orders from just about everyone who can manage them that she's taking the day off.

Merle was up early, before dawn, readying for a trip down to that old biofuel place with a crew to disassemble everything they could. They've spent the last week fencing in more of the property beyond the Eldridges. While they ended up with a wealth of food, more than expected, she understands the itch to have more land ready. The old neighborhood outside the gates is now enclosed, just far enough back from the old state highway that the fencing can't be seen even in the dreary winter due to the tangled and unkempt vines and shrubbery along the roadway now. Those fields, carefully set in around the abandoned and cleared houses, will either provide extra food for the livestock or run the biofuel plant or both.

It didn't stop him from a half hour spent driving her insane with needing - and getting - him. Despite the fact she knows the early morning sex was driven as much by the damned little charted calendar in her nightstand drawer as by the wish to bring her a little early morning birthday gift in his arms, she aches pleasantly and wishes he could have stayed. She can only blame her own scheduling for it though. She did insist the world go on as normal despite her birthday today.

The kids brought in breakfast not long after Merle emerged into the house, and it was sweet how flustered Jazz was between overseeing the breakfast but also needing to be ready to leave with the work crew. Today's run is more about mechanical skills than skill with a gun, but they'll be well protected while they work.

Deciding lying in bed is about done for the day, she shuffles in the drawer for that little calendar. Honestly, as much as she initially liked the idea of the ovulation kits and being more in control of the process, she doesn't like the thing haunting them both. Before she can change her mind, she gathers everything up and chucks it in the bathroom wastebasket. It's time they just left it up to fate.

She showers and dresses, emerging into the mostly quiet house to find Lori snoozing in the recliner while Cricket has Judith cuddled close. Christian doesn't seem worried about his mother's distraction with another baby, since he spots Carol instantly and makes a break for her. His wobbly walking is getting steadier by the day. She scoops him up and blows raspberries on his little stomach, causing him to cackle.

"Where's Patricia?"

"Upstairs giving Matty a bath. He decided that poop was better inside his entire sleeper suit than his diaper," Cricket explains.

"I'm dreading when she manages that one," Lori says, revealing she's not actually asleep.

"You can always hope she does it on someone else's turn at diapers," Carol suggests. With the amount of help hovering around the two youngest members of Homestead, the odds are better than they would be for the average new mother.

Christian interrupts the conversation with a quick tap at Carol's chest. When she glances down at him, he opens and closes his right hand, pointing toward the kitchen. "Is it time for a snack, sweetie?" It gets her a toothy grin.

"There's are spinach muffins on the counter in the Tupperware," Cricket tells her.

She pops Christian in his high chair before fetching the container of muffins. He slaps the tray happily, but points at the fridge too, repeating the sign for milk. By the time she's got the sippy cup of sheep's milk back to him, he's begun to destroy the muffin. Everything has to be deconstructed before he nibbles. It's a cute process, but she knows it's just a precursor to learning to throw food on the floor just to see what happens to it.

He guzzles from the cup, grinning afterward and offering her a squashed fistful of muffin. She takes the bite and nibbles at his fingers, so that he giggles and snatches them back to shove the next squishy bit of green muffin in his own mouth. He signs for good and Carol repeats it back to him when he gives her another bite.

"How many signs is he using now?" Lori asks. Carol's curious herself, because sign language with a baby is something she's heard of in passing or seen on television, but never in practice. Christian only actually says three distinguishable words - Mama, No, and Da, which they determined to be 'dog' because he always signs 'dog' along with it. But his sign language vocabulary is much larger.

"Twenty that we know without a doubt he understands. Got a new one down last night." Cricket turns as much as she can with Judith in her arms to see over the couch. "Christian? Who's that?" She points at Carol.

The baby drops his cup to his tray with a thump and makes a wiggly movement away from his face after bumping his thumb into his chin. "That's right, baby boy. That's your grandma." Cricket repeats it more distinctly, and Christian signs it a second time.

"You're such a sweet baby," Carol praises, leaning in to kiss the baby on his forehead. He just grins and stuffs another bite of mushed muffin in her mouth.

"Fun part is going to be showing Dad he knows Grandpa, although he keeps jabbing himself in the eye on that one. He doesn't know where his forehead is yet."

"Where did you learn sign language?" Lori asks.

"Took it as my high school language credit. I already knew Spanish and didn't want to take French. They didn't start offering Mandarin until the year after I graduated. Thought it would come in handy as a doctor."

"I'm sure it would have. It's fascinating that Christian can communicate so well already. He doesn't get frustrated the way I remember Carl doing at that age."

"It'll be easy enough to teach Judith. She'll be a regular little chatterbox."

"I think that's inevitable. You have met Shane, right?"

Carol giggles, which sets the baby off, then the two younger women.

That's the scene Daryl walks into, looking around as if he's not sure he wants in on the joke in a room full of women. He leans over the back of the recliner to nuzzle Lori into a kiss before moving to brush a hand over Judith's soft hair. He starts to move away and Cricket protests with a mock pout.

He smiles and tugs her braid before kissing her forehead. "That better?"

She grins. "Yep. You gotta remember not to forget the poor middle child all the time. Gonna give me a complex."

Daryl snorts as he heads into the kitchen, hugging Carol. "Happy birthday," he says, brushing a kiss across her cheek. "Watch sent me with a present for ya. Honey's on the road home for sure today."

That's a present indeed. Carol honestly expected them to stay even longer in Virginia, since the communities up there seem to need fresh ideas. 'Thank you, Pookie."

"Still ain't a teddy bear."

"I dunno, Daryl. You are the best at cuddling," Lori calls out. "I like Pookie. Suits you."

He huffs and blushes a little. "That's Carol's name for me." It makes Lori laugh, and Carol hugs him tight for the protective affection he's expressing.

Christian wants in on the action and smacks Daryl with his sippy cup in the hip, hard.

"A'right, little man. Uncle Daryl's happy to play, but no hitting." He gently takes the now-empty cup from the boy and unfastens the safety straps. He swings the baby into his arms. "You are your Mama's child for sure. She used to smack me with things too."

Then Daryl makes a face. "Smelled like that quite often too."

"Hey! Just for that, you can change him for me."

"She says that like it's a terrible job, little man. Let that be your lesson for the day. Girls are weird." He keeps chatting with the baby as he disappears to the guest bathroom, which has just enough room for a changing table.

"I'm now picturing itty bitty Daryl toting you around, Cricket, and it's just too cute for words."

Carol agrees with Lori on that. With one baby spirited away, she goes to see if she can slip in a cuddle with the other.

~*~ DC ~*~

Denise still isn't entirely sure what possessed her to take up the offer to leave Alexandria when it came. She doubts a bigger community needs a psychiatrist anymore than Alexandria did, but she did spend enough time around the nurse with the Georgians to realize that at Homestead, she'll be one of many medical staff, not the sole backup in a place that doesn't even have a single nurse. The fact that she's quietly treated Jessie's family while Deanna ignored the abuse helps. There's a part of her that didn't want to see the kids going off into the unknown without at least one more friendly face.

She realizes now that Christopher was probably recruiting her, gently and unobtrusively, all along. The fact that none of his people seem to even think anything's odd about the nurse's relationship with another man did factor into her debate with herself. Add in they all seem to take Aaron and Eric's relationship in stride, and she thinks she has enough data to know that Homestead's a good place for a woman like her.

The bus is trundling along the rural road that barely qualifies as a highway. Christopher drove the bus out of Hilltop, with Tim taking a seat behind him and leaving their passengers to settle among the remaining seats. Jessie and her boys settled into the two seats at the back before the storage area starts, so Denise took the seat in front of Jessie. All of the Shirewilt immigrants are in the RV that's following the big military truck, letting the bus bring up the rear.

Jessie's been quiet, tense and almost mournful. Denise imagines that no matter how bad things with Pete were at the end, she loved her husband at one point. There's going to be a period of grief no matter what. Sam's happy and delighted. She can see the relief in the ten-year-old's face and understands his joy at being free of the monster his father's become. Ron, on the other hand, looks angry. He didn't want to leave Alexandria, but in the end, he wasn't willing to let his mother and brother go off with strangers without him.

The bus pulls to a halt and Denise looks up with a small jolt of alarm, but Christopher's smiling. "Bathroom break and changing out drivers," he explains. "Maybe let everyone get a bite to eat without worrying about wearing their food thanks to a pothole."

He stretches, reaching up to touch the roof of the bus for balance, before releasing the door and letting Honey Dixon on board. She greets them warmly as she makes her way down the aisle.

The little boy that seems to be adopted by the young woman follows her up the steps, looking around curiously. He spots the empty seat in front of Sam and Ron and plops into it while Honey goes further into the bus and rustles among the shelves.

He doesn't greet the boys right away, but instead calls out to Honey, "Can I have the one that's like the McRib?"

Denise hears Honey laugh just before a plastic package is airborne and Logan catches it with a grin. He also catches the water bottle that follows. "You gotta be one weird kid to actually prefer the MREs, kiddo."

The boy just fumbles with the package, getting it open and looking over the back of the seat to the other boys. "You should try them. It's kinda fun eating military food," he suggests. "And if you don't like McRibs, there's meatballs and chili mac and a breakfast one that has sausage."

Sam's curious enough to lean over the seat to watch as Logan opens the MRE and sets to opening a carton to pull out a smaller pouch. "This is how you heat it up," the boy explains, walking through the steps and tipping just a bit of water into the heating pouch. He folds over the pouch and puts it in the carton, then slides two smaller pouches on either side of the heating pouch. "It's okay to eat when it's not warmed up, but a lot better if you do. But it gets hot enough to burn a little. And you can sneak two things in at once if they're small and flat."

"Or if one of them's the hot beverage bag," Honey calls out.

"How long does it take?" Sam asks.

"'Bout ten minutes, it says, but I sometimes take it out sooner. Honey says it's not a bad thing to eat everything else while I wait. And you can lay things on the outside to warm up a little."

The young woman passes by with a bag of whatever she's collected from the shelves, passing it to one of the men waiting at the door of the bus and talking to Christopher and Tim.

"What else is there?"

Logan opens the water bottle again, concentrating hard as he tips the packet of powder into the bottle. It turns the water yellow. "This is like Gatorade. And the second packet I put in the heater box was potato soup. This is a trail mix packet and there's peanut butter and jam with tortillas, which is kinda weird, but not too bad." The boy rips the packets open, squirting peanut butter and strawberry jam onto a tortilla and taking a big bite.

Sam looks to his mother. "Can I have one too?"

"If it's okay with Miss Dixon." Jessie looks toward Honey, who is returning down the aisle, but pauses with her hand out. Logan opens the little packet that looks like the takeaway utensil packet some restaurants give out and hands over a packet of matches that Honey pops into a pocket on her cargo pants.

"It's fine with me. You can all have one if you want to get a feel for what they used to make our military eat. We brought plenty along because we weren't sure how often we'd be able to actually cook."

Denise is curious herself now. "He said there are other flavors?" She's never particularly cared for the McDonald's sandwich Logan's comparing his meal to.

The other woman nods. "He mentioned the chili mac, and it's pretty good, but if you don't like spice, it has cheese spread with jalapeno instead of the peanut butter and jam, but it does have a packet of fruit." She steps to the back and returns with a box and rustles through it. "There's chicken breast, chicken and dumplings, beef patty, maple sausage, and chicken pesto pasta in this box. Oh, and tuna if you don't want to mess with a heater."

"I'll try the maple sausage," Denise ventures, figuring a breakfast sounding one is a safe enough bet. If a ten-year-old can figure the packet out, she can, and from what she sees, everything has good directions.

Sam seems indecisive, so she shows him one of her items. "Toaster pastries in this one, Sam."

The boy grins and snags the same MRE, but moves to sit with Logan. With his splinted fingers, he ends up needing the other boy's help on some of the prep. "Mine's brown sugar, Denise. Is yours?"

She shakes her head, showing him the chocolate chip and offering a trade. She's happy enough with either, and she knows the boy's got a love for chocolate.

"Anything you don't want to eat, just toss it in this box," Honey says. "Makes for good snack and drink selections."

Denise looks at what remains after she tucked the sausage and the hot drink bag into the carton with the heating bag and scoops the apple cider packet, salsa, crackers, and apple butter up to drop into the box Honey leaves in the seat in front of the boys. Realizing that one item is actually toilet paper after Logan's explanation, she drops that in as well. Handfuls of other items like hers get contributed by the others, like coffee and creamer packets the boys don't want.

Honey takes the seat in front of Denise. She makes short work of her own packet, tossing Logan something out of it and telling him to share with Sam. Even Ron is eating, although Jessie's picking at hers until she catches Denise's concerned look and makes more of an effort on the food.

"How many days will it take to get to your home?" she asks Honey.

The younger woman looks thoughtful as she spoons chicken and dumplings from the packet into her mouth. "Well, it took us seven days to make it to Richmond the first time, but we had to make for some allowances for that first big snowstorm. And we won't have to clear the roads as much going back once we reach where we left our route to avoid the storm, so Abraham thinks four days, although we've debated some night driving just to get back sooner. He worries about another snowstorm coming through while we're in the mountains."

"And if it does?"

"We camp out best we can. Worst case scenario is that it lasts long enough to drain the solar batteries and we have to bundle up, but we've got safety gear for that."

"Where are we now?"

"Just north of Lynchburg. We're going to make it at least to Martinsville by nightfall, because we can stock up on fuel at the raceway there. Might stay the night there anyway, since we've already been through that area compared to today's route."

"And what will it be like when we get there?" Jessie asks softly. "Are there houses like in Alexandria, or is it trailers like Hilltop?"

"Homestead's a bit of a hodgepodge. We found this place that converted containers to living quarters, like the ones you see on the back of semi-truck trailers or on cargo ships. So, we built a little village of those, right up by the community center where we do all our meals. I've got a little apartment in the village myself, but there are some houses on the property because it's where my family originally lived, and a lot of folks have been building cabins as they have time."

She pauses for another bite of food. "You'll probably be assigned a place in the village to start with, one of the family units. That'll give you a bedroom, with a bunk area for the boys and a bathroom and kitchenette if you do want to cook a little on your own. Denise will be offered one of the apartments with or without a kitchenette, depending on what she wants. Used to, they liked at least two people to share, which is why I have a roommate, but as more cabins get built, they're not real picky about it now."

"What sort of work will I need to do? What will be boys be doing? Is there a school?" Denise likes the questions, as she wondered that herself. She figures her own task will be some part of the medical staff, but Jessie's mainly looked after her kids and done some work in the community as a hair stylist.

"Well, it really depends on what you want to do. My mother's the one who assigns jobs, and she always asks what people used to do versus what they want to do now. If you want to learn something new, she'll set that up. There's a school for kids Sam's age, but Ron's over thirteen, right?" Both Jessie and Ron nod. The boy looks suspicious. "Teenagers don't have to attend classes. We just don't have a reason to keep them on busy work like that. So, they get chores five days a week and the chance to apprentice with anyone that has a skill they want to learn."

"Like what?" Yes, Ron is definitely suspicious.

"Well, for example, my younger brother's fifteen. He does a shift with the building crew one day a week, another with the critter crew taking care of the various farm animals, one with the laundry crew, and then two supper shifts at the community center. Any free time he has is up to him, but he's apprenticed to our veterinarian, so he spends a lot of time studying and working with the animals. Noah, the boy traveling back with us, is apprenticing with the building crew to learn the trade as a whole, everything from design to wiring the electricity or putting on the roofs. He's eighteen now, so he won't be on the chore rosters with the teenagers anymore, just full-time with the building crew."

Ron relaxes a little. Denise wonders if it's the idea he won't have to go to school that helps.

"I was a hair stylist before," Jessie notes. "But I don't think that's a full-time job right now."

"Maybe not, but having someone who really likes to do it would be nice. We've got a couple of ladies who do it now and then, mostly for family, but no one who just sets up shop for it. And you can try out other things. I know they're always wanting people willing to stand watch, and that's an indoor job watching a bunch of camera screens, and that's just one of the areas you could try out."

The men are back on the bus now, with Tim taking the driver's seat this time. The bus lurches a bit as it gets back underway.

"Do they actually _need_ another doctor?" Denise asks. The thought makes her nervous. After failing to make it as a surgeon, she made a decent enough living as a psychiatrist, but there can't be a full-time need for that skill, or so she hopes.

"I'm sure they wouldn't mind having someone else in the work roster, but honestly, most of the medical work is the occasional accidental injury as far as the infirmary. Now they do have rounds through our nursing home every day, but they've got that down pretty regular and the elderly are kind of attached to Caleb now."

"Elderly?" Denise is surprised. She hasn't met anyone who qualifies as elderly since the world ended.

"Yeah. We rescued an entire abandoned nursing home a while back. Used to have twenty-two people from there, but Miss Lucia passed away around new year's. But she was eighty-six, so we sorta expected that to happen." Honey glances to Jessie. "That's another area they wouldn't mind extra helpers in. G and Felipe keep on top of things and have a few helpers, but not everyone's got the right kind of patience."

"I might be interested," Jessie admits. Denise is curious herself.

"And if I wanted to get more hands-on medical training?" she asks.

"I'd recommend asking Hershel, the veterinarian, or Caleb of the doctors. Caleb's been training a couple of folks for nursing, so he won't mind more students. They both have been overseeing my sister's training. She was still in med school when things went down. Edwards is a good doctor as long as he keeps his mouth shut. My sister says he skipped out on the classes about bedside manner."

Denise can't help laughing a little at that. She's met a lot of doctors – especially the males – just like that. Pete at Alexandria is just an extreme example of the arrogant part of the profession. She feels a little better about her decision to go now, especially with the cheerful question and answer session Honey provides as they make their way further and further south from any place she's ever been.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol perches on the edge of the tub and enjoys the view of Merle in the shower. The day's work was one of the grubbier ones he's had lately and she's debating if the jeans he wore are even salvageable with the muck smeared on them from the machinery they moved today.

He's clean now, but standing braced against the shower wall and letting the hot water massage his back from one of the dual showerheads. A lifetime of physical work keeps him fit as a man ten years younger. She would never guess him to be nearing fifty if she didn't already know, even with the grey being more noticeable with him letting his hair grown out long enough to curl.

Apparently, he realizes he's being watched, because he turns his head to one side to watch her through the spray. He reaches out to push the glass door open, hand out in obviously invitation to join him.

She takes her time stripping down, watching his expression change from tired to intrigued with each layer she removes. She's a year older today, but instead of feeling worn out and older than her years like last year, she feels beautiful, young, and cherished. She steps under the spray, pulling the door closed behind her.

"We're going to be late to supper," she says as she brushes her lips against his.

"Pretty sure supper doesn't start until the birthday girl shows up." He strokes his hands along her skin, resting them against her hips before drawing her close. As always, his touch on her bare skin makes her tingle with anticipation of what will come next. "And there's not a soul out there gonna blame me for wanting to show my gorgeous wife just how enticing she is."

edited scene

He holds her to him, kissing along her bare shoulder with all the affection she's used to. "Love you," she whispers, kissing his skin along his hairline.

He huffs against her skin, smiling. "Love you too."

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle pauses in his dishwashing when Sophia hugs him tightly. With his hands wet, he's limited on the return hug, but she doesn't seem to mind. Her blue eyes are suspiciously bright.

"You okay, princess?"

"Yeah, Daddy. Just glad we're _here_ for her birthday. She looks so happy."

He glances back to where he can see the back of Carol's head where she's wedged on the couch between Daryl and Cricket with Andre on her lap. The close-shorn grey locks have grown out a bit, and he knows the shiny strands frame her face like a halo now. She's laughing at something Shane's said.

The birthday supper was a success, although he thinks Jazz was disappointed they ran so late that he didn't get to participate in the cooking as much. The ladies of the family did good, putting out a nice spread of Carol's favorites, and Jazz's cheesecakes, made up yesterday, chilled nicely in the fridge all day long.

"Happy looks good on her, doesn't it?" he says, and Sophia grins and pokes him in the side before going back to her drying duties. "You excited for Honey to get back?"

His current youngest nods. "Mama can't decide between making up Jazz's room for Logan or if he'll want to stay with the other boys. I think she's set it up both ways now."

Merle knows Carol's been building up nerves in regards to the little boy Honey's adopted into the family. Knowing his history, he can understand it being a lot different than taking on his own kids. Although they all carry different scars on their psyches from the absence of their mother, they at least were never fully alone in the walker-infested world.

"He might end up wanting to stay close to Honey for a while, until he adjusts." Christopher's given some insight, when Merle talked to him for a morning update not long after the boy was found. He's imprinted hard on Honey and that young man that's staying up in Virginia.

"We'll all look after him," Sophia says determinedly. "Maybe Honey can move back in a little while." He smiles at her and snags a towel as he finishes the last pot and tugs her in to drop a kiss on top of her head.

Yeah, they'll all take care of Honey's little lamb.


	68. Valentine's Day, Part 1

**February 14, 2011**

~*~ DC ~*~

Denise isn't sure what to expect when they pull onto what looks like a gravely path into the woods. Honey warned them that there was a new set of gates for Homestead, completed while they traveled. It's why her people came out to guide them in, instead of them just letting themselves inside.

The idea that no humans stand guard in person on the gates is a little unsettling, but so's the implied size of the place. The road curves just a bit and the highway behind them disappears. That's when she sees the gate. It's open, the other vehicles already trundling through.

As the bus pulls fully through the gate, she glances behind to see a tall man closing and locking the gates behind them. He's got a rifle slung across his back and another gun on one hip. He swings up onto a horse big enough for her to think of the Clydesdales from those TV ads and trots up alongside the bus as they move along at the end of the caravan.

Honey opens a window to call out to the rider, who seems even taller on the huge horse. "Don't tell me you're out this far solo, little brother."

"Shane's up at the front," he answers.

From details Honey and Christopher have given them about Homestead in general and her family specifically, this must be Jasper.

"Miss me, pipsqueak?"

"Little bit, Hannah-Banana." The teenager is smiling at his sister.

"Hannah-Banana," Logan giggles and perches on a seat to get a better look. "Hi, I'm Logan. I like your horse."

Jazz returns the greeting. "Want to ride with me through all the gates?"

The boy lights up as if all his Christmases and birthdays have come at once. "Can I, Honey?"

"Sure. Tim will pause at the next gate so you can hop out of the bus."

The siblings chatter through the window, mostly about the animals. Apparently, Honey missed a lambing while she was gone. Denise can't quite imagine not only flocks of animals, but calmly breeding more in the apocalypse. Even Hilltop, which has livestock, didn't seem to be progressing on that scale.

She glances at Jessie, who looks just as overwhelmed, but Sam's glued to the conversation like Logan and Ron's even looking interested. The fact that he's seeing a teenager not a lot older being treated as an adult probably helps. The weaponry Jazz carries is not for show. He's too comfortable with it, and up close like this, she can see he has a hunting knife strapped on the opposite hip from his gun and she can see the hilt of another in the top of one boot.

They reach the next gate after winding through an abandoned neighborhood with large yards and older houses. There's signs of preparation for farming around the houses, especially the further they go away from the first gate.

"Are they going to really grow this much food?" she asks.

"Out here it's more if an experiment for biofuel and animal feed, although depending on what they plant, it'll probably end up feeding us too," Honey explains. "Did y'all get that biofuel plant disassembled?"

Her brother answers. 'Yeah. Couple days ago, but Eugene, Gage, and Jim are tinkering on the reassembly for any improvements. We're about to see it now."

He points to a large steel building just before they reach another gate. It has a massive door like Denise is used to seeing for industrial buildings, but the door is shut. It's getting later in the day, so she supposes people are done with work for the day. Honey was very clear that work shifts are only mandatory for six hours, although run teams end up with more by the nature of their work.

As soon as Jazz has the second set of gates locked, he leads the horse to the other side of the bus, where Logan is waiting impatiently, to everyone's amusement. He lifts the boy up onto the horse just in front of the English style saddle and swings up behind him with ease of practice. Logan's beaming, the happiest she's seen him since they left Jesus behind, and Jazz nudges the horse off the road to trot through the fields once they clear the trees and reemerge into farmland. Stella, who followed her boy out of the bus, scampers after them.

This area looks like it was always farmed, not being converted. Some fields still have crops growing, winter specialties, she guesses, and she can see an orchard in the distance. Jessie's looking out the windows with a look of wonder on her face. After living on canned goods, she supposes the idea of regular fresh fruit and vegetables is a little overwhelming.

"You may get a little tired of a certain vegetable or fruit in season," Honey says, expression kind, "but you won't go hungry. Might be a little less meat than you're used to while we establish larger herds and flocks, but we get a good serving at least once a week. Lamb, carabeef, venison, and pork mostly. Regular beef, we're probably a few years down the road before it shows up more than once or twice a year. Poultry's mostly reserved for egg production, but you can always tell when they've ended up with too many roosters when we get a chicken dinner."

Sam turns to her, wide-eyed. "You eat the lambs?"

She ruffles his hair reassuringly. "Not the little ones. Why they still call them lambs when they're mostly grown, I don't know. But don't worry. They aren't babies. If you want, Jazz will be happy to show you the sheep farm tomorrow and explain it all to you."

The boy looks to his mother for permission and Jessie nods. Denise thinks she might normally be wary of sending her child off with a virtual stranger, but he's Honey's brother, and he's obviously good with kids, from the overjoyed look on Logan's face as they trot back alongside the bus in time for the next gate.

"Honey! Did you know Imbri is going to have a baby?" the boy calls out. Denise feels a little nervous, seeing the boy sitting alone on the big horse as Jazz closes the gates behind them, but she's standing as calmly still as a carousel horse.

"Yes, I did. It takes a long time for a baby horse to grow though."

"A whole year! Jazz says she'll have her baby in the fall."

The teenager's back and up in the saddle. "Hey, Logan, want to beat Honey to the village?"

The boy agrees, and flashing his sister a grin, Jazz urges the mare to a gallop, catching up and passing the lead vehicle even as Tim gets the bus moving again. The winding driveway brings them into view of a cluster of cheerfully painted buildings arranged like a miniature apartment complex. She guesses that's the container village she's heard about.

Beyond the village, she can see a sprawling building that looks like three cobbled together, next to a cottage and a more traditional style house. But they pull just beyond the village toward a big building that must be the community center Honey enthuses about as the center of social life here.

Two of the vehicles leave the main drive, moving toward a big barn-like structure that has several vehicles parked around it. She can see more steel buildings behind it, along with enough semi-trailers parked to resemble a fleet yard. The RV stops near the community center and Tim pulls in behind it.

Denise feels her anxiety spike now that they're here and have to meet more people. The group obviously waiting isn't a large one, just a grey-haired woman with a pixie cut alongside two women who look too much like Honey to be anyone other than her sisters, and a shorter blonde teenager who resembles the older woman. Jazz is stopped next to the woman, but whatever conversation ends as Tim opens the bus doors. He takes the reins from another rider, a big man with curly hair, and leads it away, still riding tandem with Logan.

Exchanging a nervous look with Jessie, they follow the Homesteaders off the bus. Sam takes his mother's hand and Ron hovers protectively. The Shirewilt folks are looking equally nervous, even though Noah is with them. The group of seven is comprised of a family of three with a boy just younger than Logan and Sam, three single men, and one woman who doesn't seem a lot older than Honey.

The welcoming committee seems to be derailed by greeting their returnee. Honey is lost amidst a group hug. The grey-haired woman must be her mother, based on her seeming inability to let go of the young woman even as the other three peel away. It just means the curly-haired man steps in and squashes Honey between them by putting his arms around them both.

"Where's Daddy?"

"Still cleaning up. They had a clogged pipe in the septic system for the nursing home, so he and Henry were pretty rank by the time it was fixed," her mother explains.

"Eww, poor Daddy." She grins. "Did you hose him down in the yard like he always tells you to do with us?"

"I considered it, but no, they went down to the contamination showers." Honey's mother indicates a small container building near the gates that Denise missed coming in.

That question answered, she finally turns her daughter loose and introduces herself and the others to the newcomers. They all end up with drawstring bags of necessary items and assignments to quarters, which Denise is grateful for, because she misses the ability to shower after days on the road.

The Dixons split up to lead people off, and Denise is grateful when their guide is still Honey. The young woman leads the way to the closest building, opening the door on the bottom floor to motion Jessie and the boys inside.

Denise watches from the doorway as her friend explores hesitantly. Sam's delighted with the bunk bed alcove, claiming the bottom bunk with enthusiasm that makes even Ron smile.

"Jessie? If you want to let the boys shower down here, you can borrow mine upstairs. My roommate won't mind."

The blonde looks hesitant, but Ron surprisingly urges her to take the offer, even as Sam disappears into the bathroom with a shout of "first dibs!"

Honey leads the two women up the stairs to the backside of the building. "Lady in the apartment behind yours is Michonne. You need anything and can't find me, you can rely on her, or Glenn and Maggie upstairs on your side closest to the center."

The stairs lead up to a cozy area with seating on both sides of the porch. Honey opens the first door and calls out for a Lydia. "She's probably down helping with supper. I'll grab a change of clothes and leave you to it."

"Where are you going to shower?" Jessie asks. "I can wait."

Honey shakes her head and points at the next building. "I'll shower at Eugene's. He won't mind." She bustles around the small apartment, snagging clothing from a bookshelf turned clothing storage and draping the items over her arm. She still has her travel duffel over one shoulder, so Denise images she's got toiletries in it.

"Denise will be right next door." They leave Jessie to her shower and step next door.

Unlike Honey's apartment, this one has a full-size bed instead of bunk beds. Denise sets her bags on the neatly made bed and surveys her new home with less trepidation than she had been feeling. It reminds her of the tiny studio apartment she leased in med school and the familiarity eases some of her anxiety.

Just as with Jessie's apartment, Honey explains the basics before leaving Denise to her own devices for a while. As soon as the door closes behind her new friend, she sits heavily on the bed and surveys her new domain.

It's been occupied before, she can tell, because while it's been thoroughly cleaned, she can see a crayon scribble on one wall near the bathroom that wasn't quite removed. She gets up and browses the bookshelf, which has about a dozen volumes, and wonders how many were left behind versus being in the apartment as part of the newcomer welcome. Her own books are still on the bus, but she's been reassured that they'll be delivered when it's unloaded.

The fridge and one cupboard reveal a decent enough supply of food, much along the lines of the grocery store goods available in Alexandria. She takes a root beer from the fridge, smiling a little. Honey's sometimes odd conversations make sense now. Several items are things Denise mentioned as preferred, and the comforter on the bed just happens to be Denise's favorite color.

But even cold root beer can't outrank the idea of a hot shower in a place all her own, so she puts the half-full bottle back and goes to take advantage of privacy and modern plumbing. She not only feels safe here, but welcome.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol stops by her office after helping settle the new people into quarters. Several useful skills among this group, even without thinking of the doctor Hershel will need to settle in. She's young, probably not long out of medical school, and Christopher's quiet assessment is that she would need mentorship much like Cricket.

The door opening as she adds notes while they're still fresh. Merle smiles when she looks up, crossing to her office and leaning in for a kiss.

"Did you go see Honey?"

"I saw that engineer of hers running up the stairs to his place like Christmas came early. Figured I'll see her later."

Carol laughs. She supposes she might choose similarly. "Young love."

"Aren't we supposed to have another rugrat now?" He looks around as if Carol's stashed Logan away from somewhere.

"He met Jazz on the way up. More importantly, he met Imbri."

"Jesus. We'll be lucky to get the kid out of the barn for a week if he's as critter mad as Jazz."

"At least we know he'll adjust well. He's a beautiful kid, Merle."

He kisses her gently. "Then he'll fit in well with his new mama."

She enjoys the leisurely affection before tapping her notebook. "Got some new folks for your crew." They were aware of the past jobs of the newcomers thanks to their own people, but it was no guarantee they wanted to continue. Only one of the seven Shirewilt folks were living there before, which works out for Homestead that several have good hands-on skills already.

"The two blue collar guys want to keep building?" Merle checks the list and nods thoughtfully. "Pool installer will be a foundation guy pretty easy. Sheetrock we don't need as much, but I'll bet he's done framing too at some point."

She nods, leaning into the massage he's giving her with one hand while sidetracked by the notes.

"Another attorney?" Merle laughs. "We've got enough for a law firm now. But considering the other two adapted well, I guess this one will to."

"He's not as young as Andrea and Michonne, and he actually wants to join the building crew too. The mail carrier says he'll do runs, and it about launched an argument between the married couple, but the sheetrock guy's wife says she's training for runs too."

"Scout's never going to turn down a woman wanting to train up badass."

"That's what I told her. The last of the Shirewilt people was a florist and facinated with the farm. I'll introduce her to Lenore at supper."

"What about the other lady? The one with the boys?"

Something in his voice makes Carol reach out to rub a comforting hand across his belly. The comparison is probably haunting her husband: an abused woman with two sons.

"She wants to try a few things before she decides."

"Good. Whatever she needs."

Carol slides out of her chair and hugs him tightly. She already intended to keep a close eye out on Jessie, too familiar with how worrying unexpected freedom can be. But with this reminder of just what the woman escaped, she knows it'll be for more than just Jessie's sake.

~*~ EP ~*~

Eugene hesitates to open his own door. The woman exiting Honey's apartment explained she was borrowing a friend's shower and mentioned Eugene's own name. He meant to be there when the travelers returned, but he got borrowed to go on a run down to the warehouses by Glynnis, and no one ever really turns down requests by the older woman.

He can't just stand on the porch all day, so he turns the knob and steps inside. He can hear the shower cut off as he shuts the door. Her gun, knife, and holster are in the usual place. Her boots are tossed out of the walkway, and a heavy duffel is sitting in the recliner.

"Eugene?" Honey steps into view. Her long hair is wrapped into a towel, and she's holding another, drying off even as she smiles at him. The casual glimpses of bare skin as the towel moves settle his nerves. She's not just borrowing the shower if she's so comfortable flashing skin in front of him.

He moves forward and her smile widens as she tosses the towel aside to land forgotten across the toilet seat. "Did you miss me?" she asks, voice husky with invitation.

"With all that I am." She's in his arms then, kissing him fiercely. He returns the kiss with enthusiasm, running his hands along her bare back and thrilling at the idea that she's home and she still wants him.

edited scene

She collapses on his chest, peppering his face and throat with small kisses. He runs his hands along her back, enjoying the feel of her against him. She braces on her forearms, her expression one of contentment. "Missed you too," she says softly.

He can determine that much. He's never had someone want him so badly he ended up tangled in his clothing. He never did get completely free of his pants, and his shirt and vest are still in place. His chest aches with the emotions he won't yet reveal to her. This is enough for now.

He reaches up into her damp hair to coax her down for a long kiss instead, trying to put into the action what he won't risk with words. She responds easily, propping on one elbow to snake a hand between them and work on his shirt buttons.

"You kept working out," she says softly. He smiles a little, her clever fingers exploring the changes in his body.

"Your sister and Tara worked with me." It wasn't the weight he wanted gone, so much as he wanted to not be left behind the next time she ventures out in the world. So, he kept up the daily runs, four days a week, and Cricket helped him adapt his PT the two days a week Honey had him doing. He hasn't lost weight so much as developed muscle in ways he's never had before. It helps not being responsible for feeding himself. No one diets at Homestead, but it's definitely far healthier than he ate before.

He can do a mile at a run now. It's progress he never thought possible for him.

She leans down to kiss him, one hand curling around his hip. "I want you to be safe."

"Guess you'll have to keep me on task then."

Her smile is brilliant. "I can do that. You really want me underfoot like that?"

"Every day," he admits.

"And the nights?"

She looks uncertain, and it's such a foreign concept to see her experience that he can't help but risk himself to make her feel better.

"All of them, if you'll have me."

Her response makes them late for supper, but at least he makes it out of his clothes this time.

~*~ SW ~*~

"Hey, Mrs. Walsh." Shane drops his voice into the lower register he knows she loves. He captures her from behind as soon as she shuts the refrigerator behind the dinners neither of them have any intention of eating yet.

Scout wriggles to turn in his arms, her kiss hungry and anxious. In making sure they help all they can, they haven't even been home other than to shower and change. Even now, they won't stay the night here, but they're both craving just an hour alone.

But while two months ago, sex in the kitchen was well within their habits, now the room's too oriented toward their nine-year-old daughter. He lifts her, grinning when she helps by wrapping her legs around his waist. The path to their bedroom is stumbling, interrupted by the need to kiss until neither of them can breathe.

While there's the urge to rush, he resists. Once she's on the bed, he hovers over her, glorying in how perfectly he fits against her. She tugs his shirt free of his waistband, sliding work roughened fingers along his back. When he comes up for air, she tugs the garment over his head.

"You trying to get me naked first, baby?" He smirks at her and one of her hands tweaks his nipple just the way he likes.

"Just trying to give you a hint," she replies, and that look she's got right now, that's the one that reminds him that all her stunning intensity is reserved for him. How he got so fucking lucky in a life spent in shallow pleasure, he'll never understand.

edited scene

She's twitching periodically, but reaches out to capture his hand and kiss the palm. "Love you."

He nuzzles at the sweaty skin along her spine. "Love you too."

Reluctantly, he rolls to the side, taking her with him to cuddle close.

"Missed losing control with you," she says softly.

He's missed it too. Not many women in his past wanted to meet him in sheer physical demand, but she always has. "Have to make time for it."

"Yeah."

He wouldn't trade parenthood with her for anything else, but this? The pleasant ache of sex that borders being too fast and too rough? That's something they both need now and then.

"We'll just trade kid-free nights with Daryl and Lori," he suggests and she nods. It's not as much of an offer for the other couple right now, with Lori post-partum, but that won't last forever. And hell, they might appreciate just alone time regardless, especially once Judy can miss a nursing session with a bottle of the milk Lori's been pumping 'just in case'.

But for now, they've got four more hours before the teenage extra help Lori's got for the evening will need to head off to bed. He nudges Scout onto her stomach and reaches for the massage oil. They've skimped on working on her shoulder since Judith arrived, so he's going to make up for lost time tonight.


	69. Valentine's Day, Part 2

**February 14, 2011**

~*~ AF ~*~

Abraham's returning to his little single room apartment from dropping off his laundry bag in the empty laundromat when Michonne calls out to him. Happy enough to reconnect with one of the few people he calls friend, he falls in step beside her, even as she walks away from the populated areas.

"Where's Andre?" he asks, lighting a cigar. One benefit of the Virginia trip is probably a lifetime's worth of cigars, even after he turned over plenty of the other tobacco products for potential trade goods for Homestead.

"Beth is watching him for a little while. I needed to speak with you without little ears around."

That's concerning, so Abraham slows his pace. "What about?"

"We were a little indiscreet at Christmas."

He raises a brow. It sounds like someone is aware they screwed like bunnies, but Michonne never struck him as the type to worry about anyone disapproving of her bedmates. "If indiscreet is what you wanna call it, sure. Didn't think you minded anyone knowing?"

She laughs, some tension actually easing away. "That? No. I meant that we didn't take extra care in preventing long-term consequences. There's a reason birth control pills aren't listed as 100% effective."

He stumbles to a halt at that. He remembers being glad to see the damned packet of pills in her bathroom. "You're saying you got a bun in the oven?"

"That's one way of putting it." She reaches in a pocket and hands him an all-too-familiar scrap of paper.

He studies the grainy image. The baby's far enough along that it looks distinctly like a baby now. It takes him a few tries to manage, "Everything's good and healthy?"

Michonne's expression softens, turning compassionate. "As far as we can tell. Measurements are on track, heartbeat regular and strong. We weren't completely sure on your return date and needed to confirm dates. Cricket took a video."

"When?" He's gone numb, unable to fully process it yet.

"September sixteenth. Same as Maggie, actually."

"Michonne, I got no intention of being a deadbeat, but I don't..."

She cuts him off by virtue of clapping a hand over his mouth. "Abe. I'm not asking for a perfect answer right now. I know you're still grieving something you'll never get over. But it's your right to know and be involved if you want to."

He's careful to be gentle when he tugs her hand away. "I'm gonna need some time to adjust it in my head."

"I understand. Knocked me for a damned loop too at first."

He offers her the ultrasound back, but she shakes her head. "It's your copy to keep."

"A'right. Need to take a walk."

She doesn't stop him when he walks off, not that he expects her to. Any other woman might follow and hassle him, but Michonne won't.

He keeps going, long legs eating up ground until he reaches the pasture fences. He leans on the railing, mind still spinning with the news.

He fumbles the ultrasound to stare at the tiny baby. He believes what Michonne's saying, that she'll hold him to no obligation. The baby won't suffer, not with a badass mama like that. She's already a single mom with all the backing of the innumerable Dixons.

The baby's little arms and legs are distinctive. He traces the outline of the tiny head.

He's going to be a father again.

~*~ GR ~*~

Maggie's still semi-miserable with nausea from the pregnancy. All the tests run indicate a healthy pregnancy, just with a mother's body taking time to adjust. Only Maggie's pregnancy is widely known at Homestead, but he can't help but be a little envious that Cricket and Amy seem to be having nausea that sticks to the reason for the morning sickness nickname.

It was the contact with the obstetrician at Hilltop that gave her some relief at last. While her condition didn't seem to really fit hyperemesis gravidarum, Dr. Carson suggested an experiment with taking antacids and keeping a food diary.

It took only three days to nail down the acid reflux diagnosis. He's never been more grateful in his life for such a simple solution. Between the modified diet to avoid triggers, antacids, and a wedge pillow to sleep on, Maggie's actually been feeling better the past week. It's ironic that some of the efforts to avoid nausea, like ginger and peppermint, were making things worse.

While the meal crews are more than happy to cook special foods for Maggie, mostly because half the nursing home has a similar diet, he's aimed for cooking dinner in their small apartment tonight.

He spent his last off day in a cooking lesson with Patricia and Jazz, trying to recreate foods he enjoyed as a child in his mother's kitchen. Most are too spicy and adapting them loses too much of their character, but gimbap seems to fit just right, not to mention within his limited cooking skill.

Maggie's propped among a half dozen pillows, pretending to read but watching him through her lashes. He supposes it really is a sight for curiosity, him cooking.

He did get the rice precooked from the kitchen when he sliced vegetables and blanched the spinach so that he only had to sauté things in the apartment. He figured using sharp kitchen equipment needed supervision anyway.

He's got the carrot strips going in the pan, cooking away, while he seasons the spinach and rice with salt and sesame oil, which is supposed to be a good fat with Maggie's reflux. As soon as the carrots come out, he flips the sheets of nori one by one in the pan just long enough to crisp. It's a step they missed the first try in experimenting, and the taste ended up fishier than he remembered.

Next, he stirs two eggs and lets them cook to an omelet type consistency while he spreads rice on the nori. He sets up the first roll as purely vegetarian: pickled radish, carrots, spinach. The second, he adds sliced strips of the egg with the vegetables once it's done. The third gets shrimp, thanks to canned shrimp being in abundance. The last is more traditional for his childhood: tuna.

As he rolls each gimbap, he's grateful that Jazz's eclectic cooking led to a lot of ethnic food prep items. He doesn't think he could manage the rolls without the bamboo mat Jazz gave him. Brushing each roll down with the sesame oil, he slices the rolls and brings the plate to the bed to share with Maggie.

"It looks like sushi rolls," she comments.

"The idea is similar, but everything's cooked. It's gimbap." He's uncertain she'll like it, so he doesn't even taste his own until she's eaten one herself.

She smiles. "This is really good. What's the pickled bit?"

"Daikon radish. Lenore mentioned they grow them primarily as a fallow crop, but she wanted to try pickling them to expand the food crops. Do you like it?"

"Yeah."

He gets up and grabs the jar out of the fridge, slicing a few onto a plate and bringing it back. "They're a good side dish."

She tries a slice and nods. "Think we can persuade them that a pregnant woman needs more?"

"Considering Patricia figured out how to make them taste like what I remember, I'm sure you've got an in with their maker already."

Maggie moves on to try one after another of the gimbap, so Glenn eats as well. It's a relief to see her eating with enthusiasm. He wonders, not for the first time, what his mother would think of Maggie. He thinks she might overcome the initial fuss over Maggie not being Korean with a grandchild on the way.

"What kind of bribe will it take to get this more often than Valentine's Day?" Maggie asks.

He laughs. It's a good feeling, that she's enjoying something he's made, a childhood comfort food that is as familiar to him as meatloaf is to Maggie. "Depends on how much nori is in stock, but I think growing a baby definitely merits as much of it as you like."

She leans in for a kiss before claiming the dish of sliced radish. "Is there a name for this?" she asks, munching another slice. It's the most she's eaten in one sitting in a month.

"Danmuji. I was always told they are good for digestion. Patricia said that's likely due to the vinegar as much as the radish."

While he tidies away the dishes, she repeats the word softly between bites. It's not an area they've really pursued, him teaching her any of his parents' native language. With Chamorro being used as their radio language, most of their spare study time is spent on that, and Maggie's often a little frustrated at her slower process. The lack of fluency in a second language makes it harder for her to absorb the new one.

He likes the interest. She doesn't need to really learn Korean, since it's a dying language for sure in their daily needs, much like some of Scout's extras and Jazz and Lydia's Mandarin. But maybe the culinary parts will be enough to pass on just a little of where he's from to their child.

Funny how it takes being a father-to-be to make him nostalgic about a past he's run from for years.

~*~ MD ~*~

The children of Homestead have been running around delivering valentines all evening. He knows the idea comes from a book, thanks to more than one Harry Potter loving offspring. But there's nothing more amusing than two dozen kids in homemade wings pretending to be Cupid, with little self-sewn cloth messenger bags containing their 'deliveries'.

The elderly all received a wealth of cards from the school kids. The teaching staff decided the kids needed some normalcy, and while normally Merle always saw the school parties for the holiday to be just an excuse for sugaring up a bunch of munchkins, this version is entertaining. Instead of the kids getting cards, they're gifting their favorite adults their handmade creations.

He's collected a decent sized stack over supper, mostly from kids who have siblings or parents involved with the building crew. Only Anaya's and Abby's seem really customized to him, and he intends to display them in his office at the house. But the part he loves the most is the truly impressive pile of cards his wife has now, each one read and admired while the young artist is hugged and complimented. He thinks Carol might be so happy she could float around without even the need for pretend wings.

He wonders if the kids are going to go door-to-door next, chasing down the adults who didn't make it to supper.

Since Carol's deliveries have tapered off, he leans in to kiss her tenderly. "Having a good time with this version of the day?"

"I had my doubts about it, but the kids seem so happy to be giving cards instead of getting them."

"Some of that might be the sugar rush." The dessert table might be the only indication that the day's a holiday by the old calendar, but they outdid themselves for the kids' sake.

Logan's been swarmed into the kids, standing out like Sam does by the lack of wings, but he seems happy enough to be dragged along by his new female relatives. Sam looks a little flabbergasted by Abby and Anaya claiming his attention as well, but he isn't protesting, and the boy's mama definitely seems happy that he's settling in with the other kids.

He turns his attention to the lady in question, since Carol's been drawn into conversation with Glynnis. Carol swung by to lead the Alexandrian quartet to supper, while Noah's still acting as escort to the folks from his old neighborhood. Since the teenager led them to a table closer to some of the building crew, he figures he'll meet them later.

The concern he's having is that the older boy hasn't left his mother's side, even though he has eyed the other teens present in the room with growing interest. He supposes that if someone plucked him and his mama out of their little hellhole life when he was that age, he would have stuck to her like glue until he was sure she was safe too.

"Carol tells me you want to rotate through the different teams, but that you cut hair before."

Jessie startles a little, which gets him a dark look from the boy, but he lets it slide. She manages a weak smile though and nods. "It was something I could do where I set my own hours to be home when the boys were."

Merle wonders how much of that was to protect them from their father. "Well, if it's something you want to consider doing a bit here and there, get me a list of what you need to set up a little salon. Hell, 'round here, I could probably find one of those backyard buildings already set up by some enterprising lady and haul the entire thing on property for you. Set hours when and how you want."

"Carol says you have a few ladies who cut hair here."

"A few, but no one who did it on a professional basis before. Don't think the men mind much if things don't turn out like something out of a magazine, but I imagine some of the ladies wouldn't mind a trained hand on theirs."

The blonde looks thoughtful. "It wouldn't be any trouble?"

"Nah. Most of the ladies in this part of the country that did a home salon used portable buildings anyway. Just gotta lift one up on a flatbed, get you a foundation and plumbing set in, no more than a day's work. You're even welcome to take part in putting it in place to learn the building skills if you like, or your son, if he's interested."

Ron shrugs when his mother looks his way, and Merle decides to take it as a yes. He knows Carol will toss the boy into several chore areas just to see where his interest lies since he's not expressing preferences. But he recognizes well-hidden frustration and anger bubbling under the kid's skin. Work that lets him take out those emotions on inanimate objects might help the boy adapt.

"Wouldn't I need to do evening hours here?"

"Everyone's got some daytime off a couple times a week. If they ain't smart enough to pop by during the hours you set to be there, they'll just have to settle for what they get." Hell, he just shaved his down to a buzz cut for years rather than deal with sitting in a barber's chair, but Carol likes the curls he's let grow out as much as he likes the shimmer of her halo of hair, so they're here to stay.

She looks like she's mulling it over. "Might rotate days then." The smile he gets now is more certain. "If you can find a shop to move, I'll be happy to do it a couple days a week. And to give lessons, if anyone wants to learn? Everything's an apprentice system here, right?"

He nods. "That'll get you on Carol's good books in a hurry. She's always looking for people to pass on skills before they get lost."

That's got his wife's attention back to them and she smiles warmly. "Not everything can be relearned from a book as easily as it can be taught by a person. We're going to have to send someone up to Hilltop to work with that blacksmith, you know."

He watches as Carol coaxes information out of the woman with a skill a politician would envy, with even the disgruntled teenager warming to Carol the more his mother seems to settle in. He turns his attention further down the table, where the other Alexandrian's been co-opted by Cricket and Christopher. They'll have that young doctor settled in as fast as Carol's working on Jessie.

Homestead as a refuge from more than just the dead keeps being a theme he's more than happy with.

~*~ DD ~*~

Daryl pats Judith's back a few more times even past the loud burp that defies her tiny size. She's put on weight, and more importantly, a bit of baby fat, so she's no longer struggling so much just to stay warm. It doesn't make him want to lay her down any faster though even as he knows she's dozing off.

Although at least now the tiny, adorable baby outfits are being used. Today's is a pink onesie with a camo cap and pants that made Lori just smirk at him when she handed him the dressed baby after her morning sunbath. Since sun exposure helps for both eliminating jaundice and generating vitamin D for the baby, Lori does the breakfast time nursing session in the morning sunlight in the living room with the baby clad only in a diaper.

Although germs aren't as much an issue as they once were, at least based on the lack of flu and cold outbreaks this winter, they still don't tempt fate by lugging Judith up to the community meals every day. Breakfast at home, lunch at the main house and occasionally the community center, and supper back at home.

At seventeen days post-partum, he can tell Lori's starting to get restless. He suspects she'll be back to part of her duties in another week. Not the laundry, but the inventory and other backup to Carol. Carol's even prepared for it, because one corner of the main office is set up with baby equipment for Patricia's son. With little Matty seven weeks already, Patricia's been doing the work that Lori took over when Patricia needed less stress. Patricia's asked to teach instead of coming back to the management office, so Lori won't lose that particular task, which he knows she enjoys.

Tonight is their usual Monday meal with Rick and Rosita. While Scout and Shane have joined them for the meal since Judith's birth, tonight they slipped away with the look of a couple out to celebrate the defunct holiday in ways Daryl's not going to think about in relation to Scout.

Lori's been shuffled aside in the kitchen in favor of Rick and Carl doing the supper dishes. The two goofballs are showing off for their ladies. He's surprised Audrey's here, in light of her uncle being home finally, but he hasn't seen Honey yet himself, so he supposes it's similar. The travelers are back home safely, and that's what counts.

As if thinking about her summons the young woman in question, Lori opens the door after a light tapping to be half-bowled over by Honey's enthusiastic hug. Lori's grinning at the happy greeting, while Eugene is hovering behind Honey, looking a little uncomfortable.

She turns loose of Lori at last, bypassing everyone else to peek quietly at the baby asleep on Daryl's shoulder. Knowing Judy is deep enough asleep to transfer her, he tucks her carefully into Honey's arms. The young woman makes her way carefully to the couch, the baby carried like a precious treasure.

Lori slips her arms around his waist, slipping in a kiss to his cheek. "I don't think I've ever seen her so still."

Daryl laughs a little at that. "Not sure she's daring to breathe."

The next arrivals don't knock, but that's not surprising. Jazz and Sophia have been part of the rotation in helping Lori with the baby since she was a week old, and they've accompanied Anaya and Abby back from the Valentine's party thrown for the kids. Despite the lingering muddled area of his precise relationship to Merle's children, they've all been designated as aunts and uncles to Judith, to the point Abby's begun tacking Uncle onto Shane's name. He's not arguing with Lori's choice there, and it fits Carl's habit anyway. He spent a decade calling Scout his sister and many years of the same with Cricket. It's only with Honey and Jazz, and now Sophia, that 'uncle' is a truly comfortable fit.

Abby drops a stack of homemade Valentine's on the table and she and Anaya each add one from their own messenger bags as they shed their tissue paper wings. "For you, Mama," she tells Lori. Lori's smiling softly as she looks through the hand-drawn cards from the various children at Homestead. There's a couple she sets aside with a grin. "Yours," she notes. "Or at least more of an ours."

He sees the little crossbow in one clumsy drawing and grins.

Eugene actually settles down with Jazz present, letting the teenager coax him into actually taking a seat next to Honey. He and Jazz both give Honey a smattering of baby development facts, but she seems intent on listening, so he leaves them to it. Judith's well cared for, so he tugs Lori close, loving how quickly she relaxes against him.

He kisses her temple before looking up to see that Rick's watching them both with a pleased smile. Daryl smiles back at the older man. Their family is complex, but no one can say it isn't a loving one.

~*~ CP ~*~

"Everyone all settled?" Carol asks. Logan's still a little shy of the rest of the family, but he settled down a lot once Jazz and Sophia returned to the house after their visit to see Judith. They lingered at the center longer than normal to let the boy spend time with Sam, rather than going off with adults he's just met today. Christopher accompanied them back to the house with a soft smile as he chatted easily with Logan.

Carol let the boy take the lead in who he wanted to end the day with, since he seems a little shy of females. She's promised Honey that the boy's a Dixon, but she thinks maybe the kid is wary of parental figures after losing both of his to the early stages of the illness. It's surprising that he's taken to Honey so well, under the circumstances of his sister's death, but then again, she's his superhero who rescued him from being alone in the world.

The little dog seems housebroken, so Merle's made an exception for Stella to be inside the house. None of the Dixon dogs come indoors, not on a regular basis, but none of them are pets in the same way Stella is. Hershel's best guess is that the dog's a husky crossed with something like the heelers they have on the property or an Aussie like Bandit. Logan didn't know for sure on the breed, just that she refused to leave him behind when he set the other animals free from the vet clinic. She guarded the outside door at the community center with all the serious intent Carol's seen Augustus display on duty, despite being a thirty-pound fluffball that looks like someone took a wolf plushie and painted it with a spotted coat.

"Yeah. He was happy enough to listen in with the story, and Christopher's sleeping downstairs with all the boys. The lure of the top bunk and sharing with Jazz definitely helped him manage a bedtime. Christopher's a little worried because the kid's been bunking with Honey since she found him, but now's as good as any for him to start some independence."

Carol grins. "Well, if he does have any nightmares, guess who took over Jazz's old room tonight?"

"Hannah Catherine?"

"And a very abashed Eugene, who looked like I was going to toss him out on his ear for coming along with her."

"Guess that answers the question of whether or not Honey's serious about the guy." He's got no objections to the younger man's relationship with his daughter despite the age difference. The similarities between her young men might not be obvious to the casual observer, but in knowing the men in question and watching her various crushes through her younger teen years, he could tell anyone that asks that Honey's lure is intelligence.

"I think you might want to skip any shovel talk tradition with that one."

Merle laughs. "Yeah. He's nervous enough without adding to it, and Honey wouldn't take it kindly if I scared the guy off." He gives Carol a suspicious look, although she thinks he's pretending. "Or if you did."

She joins him in laughter. "No, I did not terrorize him. It would be down there on the level of kicking puppies in its own way. He's been working so hard to seem useful to us after everything that happened around his arrival that I can't help but admire the effort."

Her husband makes a sound of agreement, but he distracts her from talk of the children and their significant others by stealing away her book and landing it on the nightstand with a thud. She arches a brow, which only gets her a smirk as he moves in for a kiss.

Despite the book theft, it's not an urgent kiss at all. In fact, by the time he pulls away, she's got the feeling he's memorizing the taste and feel of her as much as trying to arouse.

"You okay?" she asks softly, cupping his face between her hands.

"Just thinking over how our girl just snatched those folks right out of that bad situation up there, and I couldn't stay on track enough to make people do the right thing for you and Sophia."

"Merle." She kisses him gently. "Even high as a kite, you did more to protect Sophia than anyone else in the camp. I wasn't ready to ask for the help I needed. Honey got lucky that Jessie was already at that place, although the asshole laying hands on the kids probably made it happen faster for her. If Sophia turned up with broken fingers, you would've killed Ed regardless of whether anyone tried to stop you. That I do know."

"I think if Sophia turned up hurt, I'd have had help."

She agrees with that. Looking the other way on violence between a man and wife is far easier for people than violence toward kids. She wonders even now how Merle's mama's family managed to justify leaving their own blood in that home. It was a different world back in the sixties, how people looked at abuse in rural communities, and she's glad this one's much different.

Meeting the Andersons is definitely stirring up things for Merle, so she decides to aim for the distraction he's already started. Guiding one of his big hands under her nightgown, he gets the idea easily, turning up the heat on a kiss that reminds her just how much she desires her husband.

edited scene

He kisses her jaw with a murmured, "love you" that she returns before he raises up on one elbow to smile down at her. "Not too late for a good soak in the tub," he suggests.

That sounds like a perfect end to a day she once wrote off as a useless holiday. Even now, she finds she doesn't really care that their day was working and family and just another normal day for them. She doesn't want the extra effort some women seemed to crave before the world ended, not just because of a date on the calendar.

She'll take their average, ordinary days ending like this over any 'holiday'.


	70. Contentment

**February 25, 2011**

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle studies the walls in the council room. Carol's idea to turn the walls into corkboard to hold the various information needed is a good one. One wall is nothing but a crop calendar now, with each month sectioned off with colorful tape. Index cards with crops, location, amounts, and estimated production are littered among the oversized calendar. It'll make it easier to plan for extra help on the farm areas, as well as redirecting workers for kitchen staff when crops need to be canned, freeze dried, or otherwise stored.

The winter, despite the snowstorm, never turned bitterly cold like it can some years. They kept several winter crops going in various stages of experimental, between open fields, hoop houses, and greenhouse growth.

Hershel laughs softly. "Easier back when it was just a family or two to plan for, wasn't it?" The older man is the first to arrive for the council meeting after Merle.

"Yeah. Hell, I could probably keep my family and yours going for a few years without growing a thing, based on just what I had stored up in the shelter below the house." Merle knows most of the people aware of the expanded, secure section of his basement think it's just food storage, not a fully-fledged bomb shelter. He built it as an experiment, because he had some work contracted where people were asking for safe rooms and such, but considering what happened to the world? He's glad it's there.

"Lenore's really happy with the crop progress out there right now. Says everything's aligning just right for a good harvest of the cool weather crops."

The official time past first frost isn't until March, based on those Old Farmer's Almanacs the farm folks and Carol keep perusing, but his crew has the materials put aside to put in emergency hoop houses if the farming estimate that frost isn't really a danger this year proves false. The soil temperatures definitely supported early planting.

He can already see the wheels turning for Carol's work schedules thanks to Lenore's careful notes of such things like 'peas, expect 5,000 pounds per acre' or 'broccoli, expect 8,000 pounds per acre'. It sounds like a massive number, until you realize they're feeding two hundred people and it takes about forty or fifty pounds of peas or broccoli for a single meal as a side dish. Since there's ten acres planted of English, snap, and snow peas right now and five of broccoli, it's a good thing those crops harvest as others need to go in the ground next month.

"She still wanting to move back to her place come early summer?"

"The security is less, obviously, but she thinks it might be more convenient for everyone to at least have the house back up and running to do meals down there instead of coming back up here for lunch, or even supper on a day with a lot of work needed."

"Extra property gives a little more of a buffer, I suppose. And watch can certainly rouse anyone down there as quickly as they can here. She'll need to practice evacuation though, worst case scenario stuff. Scout'll crawl the walls otherwise."

"Maggie too." Hershel looks thoughtful. "She's invited me to live there, but I don't want to uproot Beth and Patricia and the kids."

Merle turns to look directly at Hershel. "You know they're all welcome to stay with us for as long as they want to, Hershel. You're all family. I wouldn't be alive to be offering without you looking after me back in Atlanta."

The older man waves that off, as he always does. "I'm sure your daughter would have cobbled it together, especially with Lilly to help her."

"Difference is, she didn't have to, because you were there to guide her. That's not a debt that can be repaid."

"All things considered, Merle, I'm just especially grateful that my family will never be alone should something happen to me. I'm not exactly a young man anymore."

The potential mortality of his friend isn't something Merle wants to consider, although he knows it's always a possibility they could lose men like Hershel, Dale, or Arthur Eldridge unexpectedly early. Dale's already being monitored for a heart condition no one's entirely certain they can treat in the long-term, without any cardiologists at hand.

"That's a sentiment that goes both ways," is what he settles on finally.

Hershel just gives him one of those knowing smiles before reaching for his notes as the others start arriving. Tyreese is freshly showered, as he led the crew laying in a new warehouse next to the biofuel building. They've got enough of a crew between them now to split up tasks more, so Merle led a smaller team to continue laying fence along the river's edge to the east on the new expansion.

With twenty-five of the Eldridges' forty acres currently available for crops, they'll be okay, but he's glad of the expansion area bringing another two hundred plus acres potentially under farming and eventual settlement. The new area isn't fully fenced yet, but he's reasonably certain that the Etowah will keep the walkers out, at least until they finish. He won't risk a drought dropping the river low enough those dead bastards might cross.

Patricia and Carol enter together, not an unusual sight since the blonde has been returning to work after her maternity leave. Matty's not with her today, but he imagines the little fellow is off with Beth or one of Patricia's older kids. His wife brushes a kiss across his lips in greeting, settling into the chair near the one he isn't sitting in yet that has his own notes.

That leaves Scout and Shane, who show up looking half-grubby but washed up enough for the meeting. He knows they were working on Glenn's cabin today as a little surprise to the younger man, since their off-days and Glenn never really align.

With everyone here, Merle takes a seat himself, smiling as Patricia opens her notebook to start the meeting. He missed her no-nonsense approach these last few months.

"I know we've had some requests for the school that have been very nicely fulfilled and set as lessons for the kids to boot," she begins, "but we think it'll expand on what we're teaching with the garden and the fruit trees on the playground if we also add a greenhouse."

The school teachers requested a garden area to teach the kids about the process. It was a simple enough job, so much so that Merle turned it over to Sophia and a few helpers to put in fencing next to the school house's playground and to teach the kids to build raised beds to make it easier to learn about enriching the soil. His youngest daughter damn near _glowed_ at being put in charge of that project and her own miniature work crew.

Now the kids have peas, broccoli, onions, and potatoes planted outdoors, with seeds started inside the warm school house for peppers, tomatoes, eggplants, and okra. It'll be years before there's fruit, but Patricia expanded the idea of learning about food growth by planting a pair of plum trees on the playground.

"Well, we've got an acre reserved for the school and any expansion." Merle mulls it over, picturing the site in his head. No one was considering any builds that close and he doesn't expect to have more than the forty or fifty kids the school can currently handle anytime soon. "Plenty of room for a greenhouse and still leave space to double the school's size later if we need to."

"If you think it's a viable suggestion, I would like to request it be another teenager-led project. It really benefits the kids to see the teens at work, and a greenhouse isn't so complicated that it really needs an adult work crew."

Merle looks to Carol, since she's most familiar with where the teens are needed right now. She flips into her notebook and assesses for a minute.

"Need more than just Sophia and Al for a project like that," she suggests. Having just the two younger teens putting in fencing and building raised beds with the kids' help was easy enough, especially since the fencing is that assembly stuff like they're using around the cabins to form small play yards for children. "Could you spare Noah for a few days? I can reshuffle the teens a bit, taking the ones normally sent to your crew. Noah's got the experience to oversee it. If they start Monday, that'll give him Jimmy and Miguel the first day, Carl and Sophia the next, and if they aren't finished in two days, Jazz and Ron to finish it off."

The big greenhouses, the ones meant for large-scale production, usually took close to a week, but he doesn't think a school-sized one will take that long. He nods. "Good experience for Noah. I'll allot the supplies and have Sophia and Jimmy bring them up as part of their shift tomorrow."

That settled, they turn back to Patricia. "This one's less the school's needs and more a motherly one. Jimmy's been working heavily with the building crew lately and he's decided that's what he wants when he has his birthday next month. Can you take on another apprentice?"

Tyreese exchanges a look with Merle and nods. "He's a hard worker with a good head on his shoulder when girls aren't around, might even be a really good match for apprenticing to Henry first," Tyreese says. "And we could definitely use someone with full training there, instead of the patchwork training you and me and a couple others have with the plumbing."

"We'll talk it over with him tomorrow, Patricia, as far as exact details on him apprenticing, but he can be noted as official on it if that's what he wants. No need to wait for his birthday, if Carol can spare him off her rosters."

His wife consults her notebook. "He's already with the builders three days a week, so I'll find a substitute for the day he does his rotation with the farm animals and we can do without an extra on supper duty if we have to, although he's got the option to log extra hours there if he wants."

Merle isn't sure the teenager will. He's a good kid, but he doesn't have the drive that Beth and Jazz do, where they do their assigned hours on top of their apprenticeship to Hershel. Hershel logs their hours with him as extras for their future credits.

They aren't the only two to apprentice early, since Allen and Donna's boy Ben's been working with Arthur on the farm since well before his eighteenth birthday in November, along with the oldest orphan from Grady. Patrick beat his older foster brother to an official apprenticeship, but the kid's always been attached to Caleb after traveling with the doctor's group before Homestead. Him opting to join in the nursing studies didn't surprise Merle a bit, and Carol's got nothing but praise for the shy teenager.

Patricia's signaling for Hershel to take over. The older man slides a handful of the index cards like are already tacked to the wall toward Carol, along with a sheet of paper. "Planting schedule for the fields that are ready in the new area. Lenore and Arthur say to keep everything considered experimental, because neither of them has any experience growing grain crops. Paper lists their current plan for rotating the crops based on best guess to avoid problems."

"We'll get at least three crops per year on most of this," Carol comments. "One grain, two not."

"That's the plan. They're putting in peas in most fields to enrich the soil and hopefully pad out our pantries, with some experimental fields with sugar beets. Then plant the fields a mix of sorghum, peanuts, and soybean. When those harvest, we'll follow up with onions in the sorghum fields and canola and oats in the others. It could take years to really establish it a pattern, but hopefully we'll get it settled before we start running out of stored flour and sugar. And fields will have to rotate fallow periodically, but with us fencing more acreage, that's not an issue."

Merle looks over Carol's shoulder at yield estimates. "At some point, we're going to have to consider silo storage."

Hershel agrees. "But that would be at minimum a project for the fall or winter."

"Easy translation is that if the weather holds proper and there's no drought, we're not in any danger of going hungry even ignoring the stored foods," Tyreese says and Hershel nods.

"We will run into an issue of needing more room for livestock over time, but again, also something that'll occur more towards the fall."

As Hershel turns to Scout, this is where Merle knows everyone's going to flinch a bit.

"As soon as the Terminus folks are safely settled, I want to change up the run team pattern," she begins. "I want to still have Glenn and Daryl gathering and pushing further north and east since we're encountering nothing in those directions. They're low population too, even if some of the Atlanta and Athens walkers wander that way. We should be seeing more herds than we are, and I'm beginning to think its due to more active human populations south of Atlanta."

"Like the man who sent folks after the nursing home?" Carol asks.

"I'm hoping he's the exception to any settlements we found. But with the information out of Virginia, that they have at least four surviving pockets of population that close to a massive metro like DC tells me we're missing something here. And I don't like having a danger sitting to our south."

Shane nods. "We needed to wait, to get people settled and trained, but now we think it's time to look for the bastard and make sure he's not slaughtering other communities. I'd hate to set Terminus back up and have him come out of nowhere on them, or him come across one of our smaller teams out."

"Guy down at the nursing home didn't know an exact location," Merle reminds them. That's another reason they waited, because the sole survivor who lived to be questioned was too new and untrusted to even know the exact location of the place he was killing people for. He mainly knew direction from the sun moving as they drove.

"That's why I don't want to take a big group down as we look. More likely to be herds, too. Just two teams, three at most. Lay out a grid to mark for future supply runs and find the bastard. Guy said a lot of the people there weren't trained, so we can't just raze the place to the ground." Scout looks frustrated, but determined.

Marshmallows is what their captive actually called the people of the town. "I'd feel better with three teams, not two," he acknowledges.

The vote goes around and three of the color teams are designated for the hunt for the madman while the other four work with Daryl and Glenn's teams. It's a search that could take months, because their section of the state, north of Atlanta is big enough as it is and they haven't covered it all yet. South of Atlanta? That's a hell of a lot of real estate.

Since the trips won't necessarily be day trips, Carol will have to rearrange run schedules. Merle thinks of Anaya and Judith and sighs. He suspects Scout and Shane will work something out with Carol on that, so that both of them no longer go out at the same time for the longer trips.

"I've got a less worrisome proposal," Tyreese begins. "We've batted around the idea of actual tournaments to give folks a break from running or PT for a while. Think it's time, especially to give the kids some extra structure when adults may be working longer days with the spring."

"We already have the little field by the nursing home. What sports did y'all settle on?" Merle knows Tyreese has been working with the kids a few weeks on this.

"To start with, soccer, lacrosse, and volleyball. The field works already for the first two, and volleyball can be played on grass. If everything works out, maybe we can look at a basketball court."

"One that doesn't involve the parking pad at the equipment barn?" Carol teases. Most games of basketball here involve the hoop attached to the barn, which works well enough as a half-court.

"Exactly. Make it multi-sport too, double for tennis and such. I know some of the ladies miss it."

"No football or baseball?"

"Maybe baseball later. By the time we modify football for the team sizes we can do here, we might as well just stick to the other field sports."

"Next run out, we'll have them finish cleaning out sports equipment at the sporting goods store." Carol makes the note. "Get me the team brackets and we'll get it underway. Is everyone playing?"

"As long as it's low key, yeah." Tyreese smiles. "Twenty-four teens and thirty-seven school kids, plus I figure on some of the young adults playing. We'll use youth rules for the team sizes to get multiple teams. Maybe set one day for games?"

"Go with tradition and pick Saturday, I think. I've got to tweak work rosters anyway. Make sure everyone has Saturday afternoons free." Carol's suggestion meets no objection from Scout or Shane.

It means eliminating Saturday runs, but they've got to consider going beyond the bare minimum anyway.

"Everything is stable on my end," Carol ventures. "I'll have the new rosters worked up by tomorrow at supper."

"Any changes on the medical front?" he asks, looking between Carol and Hershel.

"Maggie's back to limited duties on property, but with the farm gearing up, it's actually good that they have extra help." Hershel explains. "Denova, Cricket, and Amy have no limitations at present, and Michonne's good to stay on her run team until such time her balance starts shifting. We don't have any major changes on the elderly, and Dale's heart condition is responding positively to the new medication combination the doctor at Hilltop recommended."

"Any status on the insulin production?" Scout asks.

"Eugene managed around nine hundred usable milligrams with the lambs that were culled. We're alternating the manufactured insulin doses with the homemade ones. We should be able to keep up with Robyn's needs, even when the insulin runs out." Hershel looks downright happy.

"We'll still keep an eye out for surviving refrigeration when we hit the new areas," Shane offers. "Not reason not to collect it up and maybe more vaccines."

"How's the new doctor settling in?" Tyreese asks.

"Rather well, actually. She and Cricket seem to team up well as study partners. I don't think she'll be performing surgery anytime soon, but hopefully our need for that will remain low. She's also hosting a weekly group session for the women from Grady and Terminus starting this week after individual meetings with several. Might be worthwhile to set her up in the old mobile unit as an office."

"I'll have Jim bring it over and set it up for her by the infirmary," Merle offers. "Then maybe she can spend some time with some of the kids, too."

Even though most of the kids are adjusting well, many still have nightmares. Logan's doing well so far during the day, although he's never far from a Dixon and only attends school because both Abby and Anaya are there.

"I'll set that up with her." Hershel closes his notebook. "Anything else before we head out to supper?"

"Gareth wants to start taking teams over to do garden prep at the prison," Scout says. "Shouldn't take more than a week, but it means they're going to want to get moved over by end of March."

"As much as we'll miss their extra help and company, I imagine having their own space again is appealing. I'll set it up." More notes for Carol.

"Alright. Let's go snag some food before it's all gone," Merle suggests.

He almost laughs when the room clears out about as fast as school kids at recess.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol barely gets her toothbrush in her mouth before a wave of nausea makes her gag and drop it. She does make it to the toilet in time, but doesn't actually throw up.

"Darlin'?" Merle appears and rubs at her back while she dry heaves. "You okay?"

"Toothpaste just threw me for a loop," she says. The nausea subsiding lets her analyze what she just said and she manages a weak laugh. "Guess what I couldn't stand the smell and taste of when I was pregnant with Sophia?"

Realization dawns for Merle too, and she finds herself dragged into his lap right there on the bathroom floor. Unfortunately, he's brushed his teeth already, so she fights off another round of nausea.

"Tell you what. Go snag Christian's extra toothpaste from the hall bathroom and brush your teeth while I find a test?" She isn't late yet, not until tomorrow, but it can't hurt to check.

He very carefully helps her to her feet before heading off to retrieve the bubblegum flavored children's toothpaste she knows she can tolerate the scent of. It gives her just enough time to pee on the finicky little stick and sit it capped on the counter between their sinks. Merle rinses her toothbrush, but the smell lingers, so he simply tosses it in the trash and opens a new one for her.

By the time they're done getting rid of the offensive minty toothpaste odor, the timer on Carol's watch beeps. While part of her doesn't need to look, another needs the confirmation.

Merle leans in when she can't quite look. "Well, that's certainly easier than lines or plus signs."

She doesn't need to ask what it days, because he's grinning and he would never look that happy if it's not the news she wants. He kisses her chastely on the lips, holding her close as if she's the most precious thing on the planet.

It's such a contrast to Ed bitching about the cost of feeding a brat that she feels herself tear up. It fills her with a content happiness.

"Hey, now, those better be happy tears."

He's so earnestly concerned that she cups his face and kisses him far more thoroughly than he initiated. "I love you so damned much."

That gets a grin and he cups a big, calloused hand over her belly. "Love you too, Mama."

~*~ SW ~*~

Judith hit a cranky stage the last two days, probably a growth spurt, and cluster feeding so often Shane can't help but wince for Lori. There's no mistaking that Lori's exhausted out of her mind from lack of sleep. But when Judith won't settle, her crying from the living room wakes Lori up and starts the exhaustion cycle again, even now that she doesn't want to nurse every half hour or so.

"There's milk," Lori says. "In the freezer."

It takes a minute to translate what her sleep-deprived statement actually is offering - or requesting. Shane isn't sure whether to be delighted or terrified.

"She's taken a bottle for me," Daryl says. "No problem at all. Tried to let Lori sleep a bit." While theoretically, Lori should always be available to nurse, there are going to be times she can't, so once her supply was declared established, so was the go ahead to try a bottle feed or two.

She nursed less than an hour ago, so there's three hours before she'll be hungry again, even if she doesn't sleep. Add in another few hours, even if Lori wakes out of habit to pump, and that's a lot more sleep than the new mother's gotten the last two days.

He doesn't have to look at Scout, who is rocking the grumpy infant in the glider rocker. He knows her answer, and both of them are off tomorrow.

"There enough milk if she starts up again?" With only six hours since the cluster feeding stopped, he's not trusting it yet. Just because he can walk her back across the small yard doesn't mean he wants her to wait.

"Yeah." Daryl's plucking the little plastic bags of milk out of the freezer and placing them into an insulated bag. Shane checks the diaper bag Lori uses when she leaves the cabin, finding enough supplies for probably two days in the bag.

Lori's swaying on her feet, so Daryl gently redirects her down the hall. He returns in a minute, looking tired himself. "Girls are both asleep."

"We'll leave Anaya here then." Shane gathers up the two bags, taking the bottle Daryl offers and tucking it in the diaper bag. "Just heat the bag in warm water and slide it in the bottle, right?"

"Yeah." Daryl smiles tiredly. "And try not to look so terrified."

Shane smothers a laugh, not wanting to startle Judith when she's quiet for a moment, even if she's not sleeping. Scout holds her easily, much more experienced with infants than he is. Daryl stands at the back door, watching them cross to their own cabin. It's not until Scout and Judith are inside that the younger man shuts the door.

Judith's been in their home before, but always with Lori. He stores the milk in the freezer, smiling as Scout transfers the baby to his arms. The tiny girl stares at him with those solemn dark blue eyes, holding her head up for a brief moment before it wobbles back to his chest.

"She's getting so alert," he says softly. Although she lost weight like many breastfed babies, she gained it back swiftly and packed on some extra, although she isn't quite seven pounds yet.

"She's fascinated with your voice. After that last crying jag, it was when you came back down the hall that she hushed."

Maybe Scout's right. "You like to hear Tåta ramble on, baby girl?" Judith blinks up at him wriggling so that he worries about her neck and shifts her to the crook of his arm instead. "Maybe I should tell you the story of how Tåta met Nåna? Because your Daddy is the one who gets to explain him and your Mama because we're all confused on the particulars of that. I suspect it involves your big sister, Abby, though."

Scout's grinning at him from where she's sprawled on the couch. He ignores the mischief in her expression in favor of Judith's ongoing attention. "Did you know I thought your Nåna might shoot your Uncle Rick when we all met? To be fair, he was being a bit of an ass, so he might've deserved it a little."

Judith actually coos, waving a tiny fist randomly. He nods sagely. "You'll understand that most men probably risk being shot for that when you're bigger."

Now his wife is laughing, but as long as Judith is responding, he's just going to keep rambling on to his baby girl.

Having her for the night no longer seems quite so intimidating, when she is so content to be in his arms.


	71. Making Progress

**March 5, 2011**

~*~ SW ~*~

Although Carol restructured the work and run rosters by last Saturday, he and Scout held off on the changes, doing final assessments of their teams. There are folks who probably don't need to be on runs that could go as long as a week at a time. But first they're meeting with their team leaders in the old portable construction building down by the equipment barn. Everyone knows something's up, because all teams were told to report down here prior to supper.

Shane glances to his wife, who is intent on a map hung on the wall of their planned search. He thinks the only reason she's been truly settled and not crawling out of her skin over the unknown threat is entirely Judith and Anaya's influence. Just as their people weren't quite ready for what's to come, their daughters needed their time too.

But that time's run its course, so now comes the hard part.

Daryl's the first in the door, Jamie and Glenn practically on his heels. It's not surprising, since Daryl's better aware of what the meeting's about than most non-council. As they take their seats, watching Scout as intently as Shane was, the others start trickling in: Jacqui, Danny, Ryan, Rachel, Amanda, Karen, and Quinton.

As soon as Quinton folds his tall frame into one of the folding chairs, Scout turns and studies the team leaders they've trained hard these past few months.

"We're going after the man who ordered the Vatos killed, aren't we?" Karen says. "Finally."

Scout nods. "Not all of us, not at first. We don't need to leave Homestead unprotected and a smaller group will go unnoticed better than a large one. Three teams at a time, rotating a week in the field and a week on regular supply duty."

Daryl looks between them, and Shane knows the moment the man realizes why Shane's tense. "You two are going to split leading the field teams."

"Yeah. Can't have us both gone for days at a time at the same time. That's the other issue, why we're meeting now. The color teams, those are the ones going to the field. If there's anyone on your team you think needs to rotate off, we do that today. Swap out with people from the other teams that have fewer obligations," Shane explains.

"Who's with who?" Jamie asks. The Marine's body language shows he's wary, as if Shane would want him anywhere but at Scout's side when he can't be.

"I'm taking mine, Jamie's and Rachel's teams. Red, Orange, and Purple. Shane's taking his, Karen's, and Amanda's. Green, Blue, and Black. I'm going to ask Morales to drop off my team for a while. He can shift onto one of yours if he needs to or take another work assignment." With a baby due any day now and two small children at home, no one wants to ask the man to do this task. The other two men on Scout's team, Carlos and Tanaka, are childless, although not single.

"He could run my team," Danny offers. "And I can go with you."

"That's one idea, except I'd like you on Shane's team to spread out our technicians a bit more."

Danny glances to Shane and nods, and he relaxes a fraction. He wasn't sure the young Marine might not argue the issue of replacing single-mother Maria on his team. He knows Maria will bitch about it, because she'll happily hunt monsters to the end of the world after Grady. But she's got a ten-year-old daughter and a teenage foster daughter, so Shane can't see dragging her this far into the unknown any more than Scout can imagine taking Morales. Rick and T-Dog have families, but neither are single parents.

Scout meets Jamie's gaze and the other Marine shakes his head vehemently. "Don't even suggest it, Scout. I'm not stepping down off my team because Amy's pregnant any more than you or Shane are staying off yours with an infant at home"

His wife sighs, but Shane's relieved. It was possible Jamie might take the offer, and while putting either Bryce or Abraham in charge of Jamie's team would put someone even more experienced than Jamie with Scout, he simply trusts her adopted brother more.

"Alright. Does anyone have any concerns about team members they think need to rotate out?"

Amanda Shepherd speaks up. "Considering what I've heard about this bastard we're going hunting, I'd like the ladies from Grady shifted elsewhere. Candace and Sally are doing a lot better now, but a man who'll order the murder of elderly people for supplies sounds like the kind that hires men like Gorman. Plus, Sally's got her brother to look after. It's not that the other ladies wouldn't care for him, but she's all he's got."

Karen, Sally's team leader, nods in agreement.

"Any preferences on borrowing from the other teams?" Shane asks, running the possibilities through his head.

"Need a medic most of all. Christopher or Zach."

They usually take all seven teams, which usually includes Danny's lookout team along with medic Zach, while Christopher acts as medic for Daryl's two teams and Zoe for Glenn's three. Since they're leaving Danny's team at Homestead, Amanda's got a point. Scout's going to need one too.

He prays she'll take it as he offers it, because he knows Christopher's level of devotion to his wife's well-being. "We'll take Zach and put him on your team, Amanda. Karen? Got a preference for your open slot?"

Scout gives him a look that tells him she knows exactly what he's up to, but she doesn't argue.

"Abraham. We're cop-heavy on our side, and while I know Bryce served too, he's more cop than Marine now." The former school teacher has a gift for analysis that Shane likes, one of the reasons she was actually his first choice of the three remaining teams when he and Scout sorted them.

"Your boys going to be good with you out in the field?" he asks. It's a concern, although the two adopted boys and Tyreese's daughter Julie will have the big ex-football player here every day.

Karen shakes her head. "They'll be alright, and it's only every other week."

"Jamie? Any concerns?" Scout asks.

"For my team? No. If anything, we're military heavy, with Scott and Garrett being Guard. Franco ought to feel lonely sometimes, as just a lowly cop." The note of teasing in Jamie's voice doesn't help him entirely escape Shane or Amanda's raised eyebrows.

"Rachel?"

"Jeffries and Andrea shouldn't have a problem with it. Let me talk things over with Donna and see if she wants to transfer off, but if she does, I'll take Bryce. I'm happy with a cop-heavy team," she drawls softly, elbowing Jamie playfully.

"That's settled then. We'll announce to our teams, and get back to me tonight after you know about Donna," Scout says.

"Which of you's going out first?" Daryl asks. He doesn't look like he'll like either answer.

"My team this week. We'll head out tomorrow and plan on spending four days on the road and back home Thursday evening. We're going to run five days on, two off, as long as things hold to plan."

Shane nods. "This could take months. We know the bastard's south and probably west of Atlanta, based on the intel we got. We guess more west than just south, because I doubt a group led by Marines completely missed an active town along I-75, even if town is smaller by today's standards than it used to be."

"And if we find others while we're out there?" Karen asks.

"Same policy as always. Assess to see if they're a viable fit for immigrating here if it's a small group. Larger one that's not the asshole? Then we see about setting up trade. We can't be the only ones left, but I expect to find pockets of survivors as we go."

"We're gonna search the whole state if we need to," Shane adds. "Just because we think he's to the west doesn't mean it's true, or that he hasn't moved. Might've gotten tired of babysitting civilians. Be alert even if you're on the teams up here still."

"We're going to use the interstates as search wedges. Shane's teams will be responsible for the area between I-20 and I-85. Mine will work between I-85 and I-75. Start at Atlanta and work outward. Clear roads and set strategic blockades so you can get back fast if you need to."

"And get used to MREs. We've been collecting those little bastards up for a reason," Shane adds. They've got enough stockpiled between raiding the overrun military checkpoints and the ones they liberated from the air base outside Atlanta to supply their field teams easily past the end of the year.

Jamie grins. "I'm gonna beat feet to Mama Carol and make sure she hooks my team up with all the maple sausage ones."

"You take all the breakfast MREs, Gator, and I'm gonna tell Amy about that incident in Germany," Scout says.

"Hey, now, you're supposed to be my sister, woman."

They dissolve into a banter that eases tension among the other team leaders. Shane meets Daryl's gaze and they both sigh. What they've got to do isn't pretty and doesn't contribute to Homestead the way they're used to, but the thought of people like the ones they killed at the nursing home making it here, to where their children are?

That's an intolerable idea entirely.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol posts the new work rosters officially now that the run teams know of their new task. She feels selfish that she's grateful that Merle's never been needed regularly on run teams. She can't help the feeling, especially as she sees glimpses of how uneasy Shane and Scout are both going to be. They've been co-leaders for so long, it's going to be foreign to everyone to see one left behind as the teams pull out of the gates.

That continuing selfish part is glad that Daryl and Glenn aren't part of it, especially since Honey's taken Maggie's spot-on Glenn's team for the foreseeable future. It's bad enough that three of her immediate family will be out each trip for days at a time. Five if you count the kids' ties to each other, with Christopher and Danny going.

She cups her belly absently. She's less than six weeks along still, by the calculation from her last cycle, and she can't wait for the eight-week mark and an ultrasound. She knows she only has to ask to have one done earlier, but with no symptoms of any problems, she just doesn't think she should. The studies were still uncertain on what constituted too much ultrasound exposure. So, right now, their policy is the eight-week one to confirm dates and a twenty-week one for assessing general development and gender.

Lori got three extra ones in her third trimester, but those were all due to her prior complications.

Carol's real hopeful of none of those for her pregnancy. She was lucky with Sophia to have an easy pregnancy with few symptoms other than an expanding waistline. She's hoping for the same this time, especially after watching Maggie's bout with super-strength reflux.

But it's certainly going to be nice having that ultrasound done in two weeks and being able to see and hear that everything's on track. After all, her last baby will be fourteen before this one arrives.

"You keep standing like that and you're going to be sharing your news before the first trimester's up like you wanted," Cricket says behind her, grinning as Carol startles and jerks her hand off her belly in reflex.

Her daughter is grinning with the puckish intent she likes to use, just when you forget that she might not rock the boat as much as her sisters, but she's does like to stir the waters.

"Speaking of end of the first trimester, when are you telling the rest of the family?"

With Maggie, Michonne, and Cricket sharing a due date and Amy only days behind them, Cricket's the only one of the three who hasn't revealed her pregnancy yet. Then again, Amy's refusal to drink to celebrate her sister's return gave away her condition. Andrea, far from being disgruntled, seems intent on being the world's best aunt, at least once September ever gets here. Michonne disclosed hers once Abraham returned, and that was _not_ the paternity note Carol ever expected to make.

She's got a lot of company with the pregnancy, at least, even if she's not officially due until November fourth and the cluster of younger women all due around mid-September.

"Tonight at supper. Although at this point, I'm not entirely sure who hasn't figured it out."

"We have an observant family. I'll count myself lucky if we get the ultrasound done before someone knows other than me, you, and your dad."

Cricket giggles. "I'm about ninety percent certain Daryl's wise to it already."

"You think he's that observant?"

"Where you and Daddy are concerned? Absolutely. He's got new daddy brain fog right now, but you gotta remember, out of all of us, he's most familiar with Daddy's mannerisms."

Carol thinks of Merle's increased need to touch her if he's within an arm's length of her. It's not just focused on her belly and the minuscule life within, but all of her. Even in his sleep, he's got to be in contact. It reminds her in a way of Scout's issue with touch as an unconscious reassurance.

"He's going to make how Daryl treated Lori look standoffish, isn't he?"

"Oh yeah." Cricket slings an arm around her waist for an impromptu hug. "Looks like it may rain by end of supper. Let's go see if I have any surprise left to give the family."

Carol follows easily, smiling to herself. Their family tree's about to get tangled into a blackberry thicket, with her own child arriving weeks after its biological niece or nephew as well as two adoptive ones, but she doesn't mind being a pregnant grandmother one little bit.

~*~ DC ~*~

Denise hasn't been part of Homestead for three full weeks yet, and it already feels more like home than anywhere has since Dennis died. Nowhere was really home as an adult, everything feeling too foreign after eighteen years of living with her twin. Their life goals split them far apart for many years. But when the world started dying around her, he was the first to her side. She thinks he would have loved this place.

She certainly doesn't have to worry about getting looks like Aaron and Eric did back at Alexandria, not that there's anyone she's interested in yet. She's never been especially skilled at knowing for sure if interest will be returned or even possible.

Tim and Christopher's relationship turned out to be somewhat news to the community, she realized, based on the assessing but happy looks the men got. Christopher only laughed when she asked and made allusions about road trips being good for solidifying relationships. But with them and two other same-sex couples in the community, none of which are treated any differently than the dozens of opposite-sex couples, she wishes Aaron and Eric hadn't felt so obligated to Alexandria. They would really love it here, and she misses them. Until the other communities feel safe, she can't even check in via radio, like she can with Olivia at Hilltop.

"Denise?"

She smiles as Jessie takes a seat beside her. "How was your watch shift?" she asks the other woman.

"Interesting. A lot more to it than just making sure unwanted things don't get in."

"Is that something you're going to want to keep doing?" Today's shift was alongside the usual pair in the watch room. Nichelle's a nice lady, with couple of boys around Ron's age, and Mandy has a teenage daughter. Denise is more impressed by the fact that Homestead shows very obvious adaptations for Mandy's wheelchair though.

"Maybe. At least to give them days off. Sam seems fine with being left with the other kids. It's hard to remember being really safe to let kids just roam a bit."

Denise can agree there. Alexandria was safe enough. At least no rotters ever got inside while she was there. Children rode bikes and played in the streets, usually with little adult supervision, simply because child snatching just wasn't as much a worry when you knew everyone and there were no roaming strangers.

Here, there are enough of the younger kids that there's a loose organization of adults who keep an eye on them. Denise isn't quite sure of the actual pattern, since it's not something formal on the work roster that she's seen. It's like the adults just play pass the torch on who keeps a general eye out on days like today, where there are no classes at all.

She's seen Sam trailing along with Logan more often than not, and where Logan goes, the two girls introduced as his new nieces usually aren't far. And it's usually hot on the trail of Honey's very tall younger brother.

"He helped fold laundry today," Denise tells her friend.

"Really? How did they manage that?"

"Jazz's work shift today. He had all his little shadows working along like the little animals in _Snow White_."

Jessie laughs, a carefree sound Denise never heard before she came here. "I wish he had the same inspiring effect on Ron."

"It would be helpful, wouldn't it?"

But despite their similarities in age, Ron seems wary of Jazz. Denise suspects a bit of jealousy as the cause, as there's no mistaking that Jazz is a very well-loved and well-cared-for youngster in his family. Rough around the edges as Merle Dixon may be on first impression, there's no mistaking the care he takes with his offspring. Denise still isn't entirely certain who all qualifies for that, even with her own budding friendship with Cricket through their shared studies.

"He doesn't think Jazz is aware of the 'realities of the world' the way he is." Jessie's tone gives away her ideas about that. From an adult prospective, it's easier to see that while Jazz may seem insulated here, living a bit of a charmed life, he has reactions – and training – that remind both women of Honey mentioning months spent outside walls with her siblings.

Months.

Considering one of her first youth patients in the new office Homestead set up for her is one of the other children on that long journey, Denise is privy to a lot more background on Jazz than she might be otherwise. She might suspect Lizzie Samuels of a crush on the teenager if her session didn't indicate more envy toward Honey as Jazz's sister than toward his ex-girlfriend.

Ryan seems grateful to have her skills here. It's not like the other medical personnel neglected Lizzie's care. Hell, they probably know more about childhood psychology now than some of her actual psychiatrist colleagues did. But the more experts the better, as far as Ryan's concerned. She's just glad no one second guessed her changing the girl's meds. She saw the tremor forming in the girl's hand and buried herself in the pharmacy to debate the pros and cons of working around the anti-depressants versus anti-anxiety meds. It'll take time to assess the girl fully, but she thinks the med she was prescribed before the apocalypse was entirely wrong.

Ron drifts over to sit across from his mother, grumpily eyeing where Sam's happy in the midst of about a dozen children.

Before she can attempt conversation, Cricket settles across from her with Christian in her arms. The baby stands on his mother's legs, bouncing happily.

"He's such a beautiful boy. How old is he?" Jessie asks. While Denise has met the baby multiple times around the infirmary, Jessie hasn't.

"Almost fourteen months."

"I overheard that you're expecting another?"

Denise thinks it's a gossipy sort of curiosity that compels Jessie's question as much as the usual mother-to-mother type. It's not the first time she's seen that confusion on someone faced with a pregnant lesbian.

"In September." Cricket exchanges a somewhat commiserating smile with Denise.

Tara sits with plates, which makes Christian even more excited. He starts making a hand motion like he's stabbing his fist with two fingers. His other mother grins. "You want sweet potatoes, little man?"

She offers him a bit of roasted sweet potato that he mushes into his mouth. He makes another sign.

"Good, yes." Tara grins.

Denise wonders just how big a vocabulary the baby has. He leans out over the table to offer her his next bite.

Cricket giggles. "He likes to share his favorites."

She takes the bite and copies the sign that seems to mean good. He cackles and goes for another bite, before offering the one after that to Ron.

She's happy to see the teenager take it and even copy the 'good' sign. So few things make Ron smile these days, but it seems even he isn't immune to baby antics. It gives her a few ideas for helping him settle in. If he's not comfortable with kids his own age, maybe a little magic from the littlest Homesteaders will work.

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane thinks the scene in front of him might be one of the cutest he's ever seen. While Judith's birth seems to have taken Abby and Anaya from disinterested to best buddies, it means it's rare to see only Anaya interacting with her sister. But Abby's taking advantage of Lori being baby-free for a cuddle with Lori, so Anaya's sitting in front of the bouncy seat facing Judith.

Based on Judith's determination to mimic Anaya's wide smile each time the girl's face reappears in peek-a-boo, he can't wait until the game is accompanied by giggles.

"She's been smiling a lot more since Judy came," Daryl says, nudging him to offer him a bottle of one of the barleywines that still seem to linger around. He drinks so rarely anymore that he almost refuses, but Daryl's got a bottle of his own.

"Yeah. Worried she might have trouble adjusting, but I think she likes the big sister gig."

"You find out any more about where she was before Terminus?"

Isn't that the ongoing and unending mystery? Even Jazz hasn't gotten her to talk.

"Other than the night before Judy was born when she admitted her mama died when she was five, no. She doesn't seem to have many nightmares, so I'm hoping we're imagining worse than it was."

Daryl sighs a little, fiddling with his bottle. "Might not remember 'em when she wakes. We only knew mine because I shared a room."

"Has Abby said anything?"

"No, but she's a deep sleeper. Might ask those little girls of Jacqui's."

Shane files that away, just as Anaya calls out, "I think she needs a diaper change, Tåta."

It takes him a minute to respond. They've used the term regularly with Judith, but Anaya's stuck to given names. Just as she starts to frown, he grins so hard it damn near hurts.

"Yeah, sweetheart, I'm coming."

If his voice is just a little too rough, he knows Daryl won't say a word.

It isn't until a couple hours later, when they're home and Anaya's tucked in bed that it really sets in.

He's watching Scout recheck her gear one last time. She's been in and out all evening with preparations that remind him all too much that they're about to be apart for days. They haven't spent a night apart since the quarry except for the night before the wedding.

"You aren't gonna forget anything," he ventures.

She glances back at where he's sprawled on the bed and he can almost visibly see the switch throw in her brain to drop her out of 'Marine Mode' to wife mode.

Amorous wife, from the way she carefully shuts their door.

She pads over to the bed and trails her fingers up his bare skin from ankle to the leg of his boxer briefs. He enjoys the near-electrical thrill of arousal it causes, but shakes his head.

"Tired?" she asks, moving onward to sit on the bed next to him.

"Not really. Just absorbing the fact Anaya called me Tåta tonight."

Scout's face lights up with happiness. "I knew it'd be you she switched on first."

"Why's that?" He loves Anaya, as much as he loves Judith. But he doesn't see how it's different between them as parents.

"She just had a mom, before, that she's mentioned. Easier to replace a parent you've never had or don't remember. Like Jazz and Honey with Carol."

"Guess that makes sense. Felt like it was proof I'm doing something right."

"She loves me, Shane, but she adores you." Scout strokes his jawline, seeming to be completely undisturbed by the statement that he's the favorite parent.

"Not sure why she's favoring me." He doesn't do anything wildly different than Scout does.

"It could be a phase, but I'm hoping it's not. You're a good dad. I knew you would be, just watching you with Carl and Abby and my siblings." He gets a kiss to punctuate those words.

"Didn't have much of an example of being a good dad growing up." And as much as he loves Rick, his best friend's fatherhood style isn't one he wants to mimic. "I just think of my old man and do the opposite."

Or thinks of Merle, Daryl, or Hershel and does the same.

"Good enough template. It's how my daddy learned."

"Gonna be a real test, seeing how she handles you being gone."

"Real test will be you being gone. I'm expecting a setback that week."

"Scout, if it's gonna hurt Anaya, I can figure something out. Let Rick take my team."

"We'll face that issue if it comes."

He's said the right thing though, because she's moving astride his thighs to massage his chest. It reminds him of that first rough night, back at the quarry when Rick's low opinion of him set him for a downward spiral. He sprawls under her, letting her expert hands turn his bones to mush.

How the hell he's supposed to go four nights without her, he doesn't know. So when she tests the waters again, touch shifting just the right side of enticing from soothing, this time he rolls her beneath him to initiate a massage of his own that ends in something to keep them both warm over nights apart.


	72. Jealousy

**March 19, 2011**

~*~ SW ~*~

If you told him if he would be attending a youth sports event in the apocalypse back when it began, it would've given him hope, he supposes. Although back then, the hope would be of the government returning and putting things back in order, not having to help rebuild everything from scratch.

But he's grateful for the introduction of sports just as they started up the search for the Governor, because it's given Anaya a distraction from alternating parents in the field and it's a good break from the thus-far unfruitful search for all the adults involved. Her anxiety spiked enough that first week Scout was out that he set her up with Denise once a week. Any extra input is more than welcome in his opinion, and they were blessed with a psychiatrist here for a reason.

But Scout was right about her having a harder time with him being gone. She managed the four days this week... every single night in Scout's bed. It continued when he got home, and Denise's advice is to let it run its course. She'll regain her independence once her routine is normal again, just like Abby did.

But she threw herself into the idea of sports wholeheartedly, although he suspects a lot of that is ending up on a team with people she's already comfortable with.

The teams are ages nine to twelve and thirteen to seventeen for the actual mock competition, rotating sports with rules modified for teams of six on soccer and lacrosse. The younger kids appear to be one massive cheerleading team, complete with cute uniforms and tumbling tricks. Volleyball, originally meant to be included, seems to have become the sport for impromptu adult teams after the kids.

At noon on Saturdays for the next few months, Homestead will gather in the sports field near the nursing home. There are even bleachers of a sort now, reminding Shane of the Little League games Carl once played. The elderly who want to watch are outside, although their area is more comfortable camp chairs and event awnings to keep the sun off. Box lunches and cool drinks are distributed, adding to the game day atmosphere Shane remembers from so much of his youth.

All of the eight youth teams will play today, with the youth lacrosse followed by the teens, before switching to soccer. Luckily for Anaya, hers is the first match because she's vibrating with excitement. It's her favorite of the three sports so far, but he thinks ninety percent of that is because she's played lacrosse with the various Dixons before.

It became obvious early on that Tyreese would need assistant coaches, so the teens who played competitively in high school before each have a youth team.

"I'm glad Abby wasn't serious about being jealous Jazz is coaching Anaya and Logan's team," he murmurs to Scout. She nods, watching where her brother is kneeling on the field with his six players, checking helmets and pads and going over last-minute instructions about their lacrosse sticks. Honey's former teammate, Jenny, is doing the same with the other team.

"No matter how tall I realize she is, putting her next to Jazz still dwarfs her." Scout laughs at Shane's words. His brother-in-law is kneeling now, and it takes that to put him on eye level with Anaya, Logan, and Mika and the others on the team. While most of the teenagers playing later are well over five feet and a few of the males even approaching six feet, Jazz is still six inches taller than anyone else.

"The jerseys are cute as hell. Carol outdid herself in planning that one out."

Shane agrees there. Anaya's team, self-named the Tigers, has bright orange jerseys with their given names and individual numbers. Clearing out a shop that did embroidery and custom work wasn't an essential run, but as with many things here, the insistence on quality to quantity holds for the kids. There's nothing to distinguish any of the team jerseys the forty-eight kids and teens playing today are wearing from the ones before that school teams wore.

The kids are on the field now, their teenage coaches looking on a little anxiously.

"They've modified the rules," Honey explains from her seat in front of them when Lori asks. "Field lacrosse normally has ten players, so it's different with six. Molly's goalie, and that's similar to soccer or hockey, except instead of just blocking shots, she's going to try to catch them in her crosse."

"That's why she's wearing extra padding, right?"

"Yeah. We erred in the side of caution, because if you remember me telling you about my broken arm needing surgically repaired, that was from a shot I took playing goalie. Arm guards weren't required and it got me above the gloves." She grins at them. "Just be glad helmets are required. Women aren't required to wear them in lacrosse except for goalies."

The game's starting, with Tyreese and Leo as referees, and Honey continues. "The regular team would have three attackers, three defenders, and three midfielders who do a bit of both. They've eliminated the midfielders in favor of three attackers and two defenders, generally, but they can switch."

Shane reminds himself she's wearing a chest protector when Molly takes a ball to the chest. The determined look a few minutes later when Anaya has her crosse back to make a shot makes him grin. It makes it past Rachel's nephew, Nick, at goalie and lands her team the first score.

By the end of the first quarter, the score's in Anaya's team's favor by 2-1, with the other point scored by a shocked and then joyous Mika. The two-minute break pauses all the kids for a mandatory water break, since the temperature is over eighty today. Both teams grow in confidence over the next three eight-minute quarters. Anaya's team comes out victorious, 10-8, and he and Scout get a sweaty and happy daughter wedged between them.

Judith's tired of the noise by then, so he offers to take her home, only to get teasingly overridden by Scout. Neither of them wants Daryl or Lori to have to leave, with Carl and Abby yet to play.

"You're going to want to see Carl play next. We can switch off next week if she fusses." Lori passes Judith off with a grateful smile, and Shane completely misses the first score of Carl's game because he's too busy watching them head off.

"Every time I see you with that goofy look, I wish you met my sister earlier." Shane looks down to see Honey's smile. He gives her a sheepish one in return. He often wishes that too.

"Who scored?"

"Miguel, for Carl's team," Anaya answers, just as Carl actually catches the ball at goalie. Shane can picture the face-splitting grin under the helmet as Carl returns the ball to play. He hopes it doesn't cause any real grief that the teen's first game is against his girlfriend's team, but he doubts it will. Audrey's got her Uncle Christopher's laid-back personality.

They don't get a second lacrosse victory for the family. Carl's team ends the game down one goal. He's the perfect gentleman in congratulating the other team, but shucks his equipment quickly to cheer on Abby's team at soccer, which wins by two goals. With the teen soccer game splitting all three kids' loyalties, Shane's grinning. Sophia's athleticism is something he never would have predicted when he first met the shy, frightened girl. But now? She's fearless and scores two of the three goals for her team. It's not quite enough, Jazz's team winning by one, but everyone's happy.

The best part is that Anaya's willing to venture out and away from her parents, grouping with her small friend group in a way she hasn't been willing since he got back Thursday night. It's good progress, since she is aware that Scout leaves out in the morning.

The field's being shifted for the volleyball game, and Shane's still not entirely sure that there are set teams to this part of the day. They'll end up playing in the light of the sunset, but no one seems to mind. Most of the elderly didn't make it the full five plus hours of games, but he suspects there were still watchers from the windows of the nursing home's closest common area, which overlooks the playing field.

Raised voices draw his attention from where Molly's patiently trying to teach both Abby and Anaya to cartwheel. He's the closest adult to whatever's going on, and too many years as a cop have him stepping up before he's even thought about it.

"Anyone care to explain?" he asks. It silences the heated argument as effectively as if he had a switch, and Carl backs off Ron when he raises an eyebrow at the fact that the teenagers are chest to chest like any other pending fist fight he's witnessed over the years.

Jazz is about three feet behind Carl, and from the body language of both Carl and Audrey, the two younger teens are blocking Ron from Jazz. Even without those two, he isn't going to be able to provoke Jazz easily, because while he doesn't think it's deliberate, the rest of the teens most commonly around Jazz after hours are damn near in one of the formations the teens have been taught for runs. Even Patrick, normally the calmest of the teens, is looking angry, not anxious.

"Ron's unhappy to be on the team with Jazz for some stupid ass reason," Sophia grinds out.

He's unsure as to what would cause that sort of conflict. Like all the council, he's aware of Ron's background, and he knows from yesterday's meeting that no one thinks the boy is settling in well. His mother and brother are doing well. Sam even played earlier, on the soccer team that opposed Abby's.

"Easy solution to that would be to ask Tyreese to be reassigned," he suggests. Sometimes teammates just don't get along, and while on a larger team, he might say suck it up and deal with it, small teams don't work that way. Besides, these games are supposed to be fun for the kids, not stressful.

"I don't want to play at all, but my mom and Denise say I have to."

Shane's also aware of the reasoning behind that, because Ron isolating himself isn't healthy. He shows up and does his assigned work and is polite to adults, but refuses all overtures from other teenagers. The most time he's spent around others kids is that he seems happy enough that his little brother has buddies among the younger ones.

"And what's your problem with Jazz in particular?"

"He's spoiled. Always trying to be so nice to me, like he understands a damned thing about anything. Just wanders around petting animals and playing with little kids and singing to old people, and y'all still give him weapons."

Ah. Probably a big source of the issue then, because like every other teenager, and several adults, Ron's got to complete training before he's allowed more than the standard belt knife everyone over the age of nine or so carries.

"Jasper. Pull up your sleeve."

It gets him a hesitant look from his brother-in-law, but Jazz's tendency to wear longer sleeves even in warm weather means that most people who came after the quarry have never seen his arm. Today's jersey is just long enough that the sleeve falls just past the twisted scar on his bicep. He reaches out and reveals the discolored flesh along his dark skin.

Shane turns back to Ron, who isn't experienced enough to know what kind of scar it is. "Jazz earned the right to carry the weapons he does because he's been outside the walls and been shot defending those who couldn't defend themselves, Ron. Maybe he's lucky to have his home, unlike a lot of us, but what you see as spoiled is his way of making sure we're safe here too."

It's one of those horrible facts of life now, that even Jazz's innocent tasks like milking the sheep or caring for the animals on the horse farm mean that he's assessing his environment as clearly as any academy-trained cop. Shane's drilled him enough, hell, every related adult has.

"Those old people he sings to?" Beth says softly. "That's who he was helping when he got shot."

Ron angrily waves that off. "Even so. Why's he think he can understand anything about me?"

Shane is deciding how to answer that when a voice behind him does. "Because my father killed my mother." Merle steps into Shane's line of sight. "Ron, it's time we take a walk." He doesn't give the boy much choice either, a firm grip on his arm ensuring he walks away from the sports field and toward the main house.

"You good, Jazz?" Shane asks.

The teenager nods, shrugging off the confrontation as he returns to securing equipment. The other kids return to helping him, but as Shane moves away, Carl follows.

"Do you think Ron will listen to Merle?"

Sighing, Shane shrugs. "It's really hard to predict how teenagers will react when they're pulled out of abusive situations, Carl. You gotta remember that no matter what, Ron probably loves his father. That's not going to go away, and there's a part of him that is always going to wish he stayed behind."

"Why would you stay where someone's going to hurt you like that?" The confusion in Carl's voice is one that Shane's experienced himself, both as a kid who wondered why his mother stayed with a loud-mouth alcoholic and as an adult who hated he couldn't do his job and save people without their cooperation. He's not entirely sure he's the best person to answer that question, but sending Carl to talk to Carol? That's just not going to happen.

"Love makes people do some really crazy stuff, Carl. If it were your dad or mom, you might think that they could change or get better. And sometimes, people feel trapped, with no place to go. I've seen people like Ron's dad go after their families when they left. Remember what Ed did?"

Carl was sheltered to an extent from Ed's final day in camp, and Shane agreed with it then. But he's getting older and needs more understanding.

"He had a gun. We weren't supposed to know, but we heard." The boy studies him for a moment and Shane sees an even stronger glimpse of the man in Carl's future self. "I know Scout or you killed Ed. No one talks about it, but no one has ever worried he'll find us, not like this other guy y'all are looking for."

Shane nods, not admitting who did it either way. Everyone close enough to hear at Grady knows that Scout ended Ed's miserable existence, because she declared as much to Dawn Lerner before her execution. Carol has never asked the details. Sometimes he wonders why they aren't as open with it as the Grady or Terminus issues, but maybe it is because in the end, they knew Ed, unlike any of the others.

"But Ron's father's still alive. What's the difference?"

"Because he's never come after his family once they left. If he did, he wouldn't be." And because Honey's not yet so hardened to be able to take that action, he thinks, to shoot an unarmed man. If Pete Anderson had needed to die up in Alexandria, he suspects the man would have died by Abraham or Andrea's hand. "Just be patient with Ron, Carl. Having someone you love be the person who hurts you most? That's a hard thing to heal from."

"You think he'll learn anything from Merle?"

"Maybe. I think he's got a better chance than most." And if taking direct action in talking to the boy is where they're at now, Merle's not the only abuse survivor. He's just their worst-case story. "How about you go have fun, kiddo? I'm gonna go find Scout and your sister."

Carl nods and returns to the group of teenagers and Shane sighs, rubbing a hand over his curls and going to see if Anaya wants to stay with the other kids or run home with him. He really hopes the older Anderson boy's ready for a breakthrough, because he sure doesn't want to deal with more jealous outbursts.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

Jesus steps carefully into the clearing, watching the black horse as intently as it watches him. He came across the animal two weeks ago, on his way to a meeting point to check in with Aaron and Eric. The Alexandria recruiters are familiar with the animal, noting that the kids in their community named it from seeing it through the gates.

Buttons seems like a weird name for a horse, but he's trekking through the Virginia countryside with a dog he thought was named after the Spanish for bear only to have Honey giggle and correct him that it wasn't quite right. The lanky catahoula is actually named Special Agent Oso after some preschool show Honey's former babysitting charge used to watch.

Oso's lounging in a patch of sunlight near his discarded backpack, completely ignoring Jesus' attempts to coax the horse closer. Damn dog will probably laugh at him if this doesn't work out.

But Honey knows horses and she swears that they're best tamed by treats, so here he is, wandering around the woods with a pocket full of treats Ezekiel's people gave him in amusement when he asked. They have a few horses and Hilltop doesn't, so he figured it was easier to just ask than to try to find some random pet or feed store.

Reassured by both his friend down south and the folks at the Kingdom that the horse is likely an escaped pet and once tame, he keeps stepping forward, babbling nonsense with what looks like a lumpy oatmeal cookie in his open palm.

"Open palm, Paul. Keep it open and flat and let it eat off your palm." He doesn't figure the horse cares what he says, so repeating the instructions as a mantra works for him.

It isn't running away, at least. Aaron and Eric both say it never lets them near when they've tried.

He stops about three feet away from the horse, who keeps eyeing him carefully. It shakes its head, huffing a little, but then at last, takes a few steps forward. He feels the warmth of its breath against his skin and then the brush of lips and teeth as it delicately takes the treat. It doesn't back off, huffing again, almost expectantly. He wonders if horses are like dogs, able to smell the other treats he has on him.

He eases another out of his pocket and offers it to the horse. It actually nudges him a little after eating that treat, so he risks reaching up to rub a hand along the animal's silky hide.

His reward is the damned thing stealing his hat.

It costs him a treat to get the horse to drop the hat and he inspects it before cramming it back on his head.

"You're laughing at me, aren't you?" he asks. Up close though, he can finally see that Buttons is a mare, which he suspected but couldn't confirm. "Well, laugh all you like. A lady like you shouldn't stay outside by yourself. Too many bad things out here nowadays."

She lets him pet her and he grows bolder as she accepts the affection. He was warned not to try to ride her. Tame doesn't mean she was a riding horse, and the last thing he needs is to be thrown and break a bone.

"How about you follow me to where we can get more treats?" He offers her another before heading slowly to his backpack and returning it to his shoulders. Oso rises and yawns, trotting beside him. He glances back to see that Buttons is following.

Curiosity. It's the curse of most mammals, he supposes. He just hopes she stays curious long enough to follow him back to the Kingdom and the safety of people who know more about horses than he does.

~*~ JD ~*~

Jazz watches Logan trudge back from the bathroom, still grumpy that the older boys made him go back to brush his teeth. It's not that they're required to look after the younger boy that closely, but more that it's such a small thing no one wants to pester adults about. Besides, Jazz isn't entirely sure that any adult other than Honey can truly get through to Logan most days.

It's not that he seems opposed to being an adopted Dixon. He's sweet and polite to Merle and Carol, although there's still a wary distance between him and his new parents that doesn't exist between Logan and any of the "kids" around him. Jazz figures if he lost his parents and sibling, he probably wouldn't be in a hurry for new ones. It's kind of like Audrey, who dodges the issue simply because she's got uncles and a grandmother in charge of her, so no one needs to adopt her. Logan treats Carol like an aunt and dodges around acknowledging Merle. Everyone's just letting it slide for now.

He seems a bit off-kilter tonight though. Normally, a reminder of bedtime hygiene gets shrugged off and he does as he's asked. But tonight, he's obviously stewing about something.

"You okay?" Al asks. He's always faster than Jazz or Patrick to just push for answers. He doesn't seem to mind the idea he might be labeled nosy for it.

"Honey's always with Eugene," Logan huffs and flops onto Jazz's bed instead of climbing to his own. Jazz doesn't mind. Logan's had some nightmares, and it's a really tight fit if he climbs into Jazz's bunk, but if it makes him feel safe, they'll squeeze in.

"They live together. It kinda happens that way," Al replies. Jazz nods.

"I don't understand why she's so into him. Jesus was nicer."

Oh. Well, crap. Jazz slings an arm around Logan and sighs. "Gonna tell you one thing about having sisters, Logan, and that's that you don't always like their boyfriends. Or girlfriends."

"Shane's nice and Tara is too."

"Yeah. But so is Eugene. He likes you. He's just not really good with words." The boyfriend Honey had the last few months of high school is one that Jazz was really glad didn't last past graduation, even if the world did end. And the woman Cricket lived with in Atlanta, before Glenn was her roommate, well, he didn't care much for her either.

"He talks to you."

"Well, yeah, but he didn't at first." Honestly, he's fairly certain Eugene is still half-terrified to talk to Scout most days.

"I still liked Jesus better. I wish he came with us and then it wouldn't matter about Eugene."

"Logan." Jazz waits until the boy looks up at him, bottom lip bitten between his teeth. "Even if he came back, it might still matter about Eugene. They were dating before she went to Virginia."

"But…"

"Do you think he makes her unhappy?" Jazz asks, interrupting him.

"No. She smiles a lot around him. But she did that around Jesus too."

"Did they ever do anything to make you think they were a couple? Kiss or hold hands or things like that?" It's Patrick who asks that, and Jazz shoots him a grateful look.

Logan shakes his head.

"Then maybe you should ask Honey about it? She can tell you if it was ever even a possibility."

Jazz hopes it wasn't, because then Logan's just going to hope. And unless Jesus comes here, that'll just mean the kid's disappointed. He should probably ask his sister himself.

There are footsteps on the stairs, with Ron Anderson appearing with Sophia right on his heels. The other boy looks torn between ashamed and curious as he looks around the bunk room.

"This is really where y'all sleep?" he asks.

Jazz looks around and shrugs. It's cozy enough, with the four sets of bunks providing eight sleeping spaces. With Logan here now, all four of the bunks in the area closest to the stairs are occupied. Jimmy's the only one in the other set, although occasionally someone like Carl sleeps over. They've customized their areas, between posters, artwork, and their own choices in bedding. He wonders what Ron sees as he lets Sophia lead him in. Isabelle's right behind them on the stairs.

"I thought…" Ron sighs and takes a deep breath. "I figured you would be upstairs, in your own room."

"I could be, I guess. But I like it here better." That gives him a hesitant smile from Patrick and a bright one from Al. Logan's still pouting a little. "It's nice not being the odd one out with a lot of sisters."

"Daddy thinks Ron should stay the night," Sophia announces.

Jazz isn't the only one with a wary look about that idea, but if Merle's requesting it, they'll go along with it. He motions toward the other bunks. "Bottom two and the top on their side are free. Jimmy's not home yet, but he's got the messy top one."

Ron goes over to sit down on the bunk that'll put him facing Jazz, looking uncomfortable and out of place. As much as he's refused to hang out with anyone in this group, or been outright rude like today that made Carl so pissed off, Jazz doesn't like that he looks almost afraid.

"We've got snacks," Logan announces, his grumpy mood clearing with a goal in mind. "Do you like trail mix?"

Surprisingly, Ron nods, settling in a bit when Sophia plops onto the other open bottom bunk and Isabelle wedges between Al and Patrick on his bunk to muss up the younger boy's hair. Al grumbles, but accepts the grinning hug his foster sister offers.

Logan trots off to the little cabinet and hurries back, dropping the little pouches of trail mix in everyone's laps, careful that Ron gets one of the ones with the little fake M&Ms.

"It's only nine. We could probably watch a movie," Sophia suggests. He's surprised she didn't stay at the community center. With the movie starting at eight there, it's still going. Logan didn't want to see the Narnia movie, although Jazz now suspects it was because of Honey and Eugene being together and watching, so the other boys came with them back home.

Jazz doesn't really want to start a movie this late. Since she doesn't help with the milking, Sophia often forgets he's up at least an hour before everyone else. "Y'all go ahead. I gotta be up at five."

"Oh, sorry. I always forget." But her frown disappears when he just smiles at her, so she leads Logan off to pick out a movie. The boy staying up past ten isn't really a bad thing, so long as he's ready by seven for breakfast, and Sophia will make sure he goes to bed.

The other kids bid him goodnight and follow them to the television area except Ron.

"Why do you have to be up at five?"

"I have animals to look after. Mostly milking that early though."

"They make you do the milking?"

"No. The sheep are mine. It's my job to look after them. And Titus usually handles the mini-Jerseys and the goats." Jazz hesitates, unsure the other boy would even be interested, since he's turned down all other overtures. But he's here, and something about the way he's holding himself reminds Jazz of Daryl when the bad memories get really bad. So, he tries once again. "You're welcome to come with me, in the morning. Titus will probably be glad to get on with other chores."

He's only half-surprised when the younger boy nods. Ron glances toward the other kids, but then kicks off his boots to get ready for bed. Jazz nods approvingly and then rolls himself into his own bunk. "Extra toothbrushes under the sink in the bathroom over by the stairs."

When he hears the other boy head that direction instead of towards the television, he smiles a little.

It isn't until a few minutes later that he realizes Ron's stopped between the bunks, hesitating about something, so he rolls to peer up at the other boy.

"Your dad… did you know about what his dad did?" Ron's voice is rough, cracking with emotion instead of vocal changes.

Jazz nods. "I've seen his scars." It's hard to miss, even if Merle's never put them on display.

"My dad dislocated my shoulder once and it didn't heal right. I can't lift my right arm over my head. That's why I really don't want to play sports."

That gets Jazz back upright where he can see Ron's face better. He looks ashamed.

"Have you talked the doctors about it?" He doesn't know enough himself, to know if a healed injury like that can be fixed. But Scout's got scar tissue all over her shoulder, and he had teammates tear rotator cuffs. It's similar, from what he understands.

Ron shakes his head.

"We should, tomorrow. They can X-ray and maybe see if there are ways to fix it." Jazz thinks about the sports schedule too, because if Ron's been reluctant to talk about it, he doubts he wants the other kids to know. "You did okay today, right, with just soccer?"

"Yeah. It's lacrosse I can't really do."

"Alright. Well, our next two games are soccer too, so we'll see what the doctors say and go from there." He meets the other boy's gaze evenly. "Sports injuries happen all the time," he said, hoping Ron gets the idea.

He can tell when Ron does. This isn't like before, where he would never cover up if he knew a teammate was being hurt at home. Ron's father can't come here and hurt him again. And while everyone already sort of knows why the Andersons left Virginia, it isn't their business to know these sorts of details, any more than it's anyone's business to know about his dad's scars or what happened to Scout and Daryl.

"Thanks."

Jazz just nods and lays back down, hearing Ron go toward the other bunk. He's starting to doze when Ron speaks again.

"I'm sorry I was an asshole."

"Don't worry about it. My sisters would say it's just part of being a teenage boy."

Ron laughs, actually laughs, and Jazz smiles to himself. Maybe things will be easier for the younger teenager now.


	73. Belonging

**March 30, 2011**

~*~ LG ~*~

"Hey, now, Asskicker, ain't you the little badass this morning." Daryl's stretched out on the big living room rug next to Judith on her playmat. The comment draws Lori's attention and she has to smile when she sees the baby's raised up on her arms like a miniature push-up.

She squawks a 'reply' to Daryl wriggling madly as if she's already trying to crawl to him. It makes the little tutu skirt on her bright blue romper bounce.

"I guess you're right. That playmat's just not as interesting as Daddy, huh?" He rolls to his back and tugs Judith to his chest, acting as the playmat instead.

She can't see Judith's face from here, but based on the exaggerated happy smile Daryl's got, he got a smile out of her for the maneuver. The baby tires of holding her head up and wobbles it down onto Daryl's shoulder. He cups one hand around her fluff of dark hair, leaning in to kiss the baby's forehead.

"We should go see why your sister still isn't ready, huh, Judy-baby?" He takes the baby babble as an answer and sits up, spotting their audience and grinning sheepishly.

"Saturday."

It's an impulsive decision, one that won't allow for anything fancy or elaborate, but that's exactly what she wants.

She can see when it clicks for him. The council proposed and the community accepted to make the first Saturday of each month a celebration day - birthdays and new marriages. The party replaces the sports games for that one Saturday each month. The birthday part expands the Dixon birthday habits, because many here don't have family to celebrate with. Weddings can be as short or traditional as each couple likes.

Originally, she was thinking of waiting another month or two, past the rush of this first celebration day that already has four couples. They don't really need a ceremony, she thinks, because she understands Cricket's abhorrence of the idea more as she lives her daily life with Daryl. They're already together in all the ways that count.

But she thinks _Daryl_ does need that public declaration, something confirmed by the joyous smile he wears as he gets to his feet. Judith gets a little pancaked between them as he crowds her into the counter for a kiss that's all the answer she needs.

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle surveys the former prison's courtyard, standing with Gareth. In the end, they made enough trips prior to the official moving day – today – that today's trip was more people and individual possessions than anything of bulk.

Well, mostly people. While the gardens are flush with tiny greenery and rigged with good irrigation that allowed the fledgling crops to flourish without human visitation every day, the animals didn't arrive until today. He's glad of the ongoing 'critter collection' Homestead's still doing, like a redneck version of animal control, because it means that leaving herds and flocks here won't make much of a dent in their own animal population.

The former egg house is now housing rabbits. With a little judicious breeding, they'll fill the thing in no time, he thinks. It meant building a new building and poultry yard, but the combination will keep them in protein easily by wintertime. He wonders what the former warden would think of his old sign shop being turned into a goat barn. Gareth and Mary tried to turn down the pair of milk goats and their four two-week-old offspring, since there will be no children here until Cynthia gives birth, but Hershel overruled them.

In time, they'll add more animals, but everyone wants to start easy. In a couple of months, when the baby goats are weaned, they'll cycle the four back to the bigger flock at Homestead. He knows Hershel and his apprentices have genetic charts on which of the other young goats will come here to replace them. He's just glad it's not a detail he or Carol has to keep up with other than arranging for transport or proper housing of the animals.

The place still looks like what it was, a prison, but the Terminants seem to see it differently. To them, it's more of a fortress. He hopes it stays that way.

"Carol's going to keep Daryl's teams on a once a week trip over for a while," he says. "And you've got the radios."

Gareth surprises him by laughing. "You and Carol act like you're turning a bunch of kids loose at college."

It earns him a sheepish grin from Merle. He knows these folks are competent and he hopes the odds of trouble finding them remain as low as it has for Homestead itself. Carol's in one of the two greenhouses the prison already had.

"There's just so few of us left these days to really be comfortable, I guess."

"I understand. And I'm grateful you're letting my brother stay."

Merle shrugs. "He needs more time, and it's not like we want to turn down an extra set of hands to help." Alex is recovering from the loss of his wife and the ordeal at Terminus, but it's slow going. He's a hard worker on all the hands-on crews, and Carol's suggested he's doing a jack-of-all-trades training for himself to be better prepared when he does eventually go home to his family.

"I'm hoping he'll be able to come back home by the time the baby's here."

The baby's due in early August, and while Gareth's mother's trained enough to monitor the pregnancy, the most surprising aspect of the final move is that Dr. Edwards asked the Terminus leaders to move with them. The man's not the type he ever pegged for making a move based on a whirlwind romance, but he's here and setting up the infirmary to his liking. The former biology teacher who has been sharing his quarters for the last month seems to be inspiring a real personality in the dour man.

"Maybe he will. Seems to me he's learning as much as he's avoiding, and Carol says he asked for one of the child development books the other day. That tells me you've got a good uncle in the making for your little boy."

"He feels he was not prepared for a world without accounting books and air-conditioned offices. He forgets that most of us were equally unprepared. Hell, I worked in a very similar environment, just without all the demands of answering to the IRS."

That's no longer an issue for any of the Terminants. Between the boot camp level training they've been put through and the absolute dedication to working alongside his hands-on crews, this place is going to flourish. They've got food stocks on a level they could feed themselves for at least a year without the gardens, animals, hunting, and fishing, but Merle's really glad those are insurance and not necessity.

Still, thirty-one people feels like such a tiny number now. He can barely remember when the quarry's less than twenty felt like too many to care for, not now that he's responsible for two hundred and thirty. Of the forty-one people that survived the bandits, seven children, three women, and Alex are staying at Homestead, keeping their numbers up, even with Edwards switching locales.

"He's definitely changing that." Merle glances toward the prison proper. They hadn't built extra storage here, because thirty-one people don't need prison beds meant for two to four hundred. Using the empty cell-blocks for warehouse space is perfect for now. He's just glad that no one thought him paranoid at all when he insisted on building an underground shelter that can be accessed from inside the building.

He and Gareth officially call it a storm shelter. The supplies and techniques for building it even come from a business that mostly specialized in tornado shelters. But the cold, hard truth is that the damn thing's as much a bomb shelter, a large-scale panic room, as the one buried in the hill beneath Merle's own house.

If the fences ever fall, if the prison itself ever falls, _if they can't fight back_… These people just have to hold out underground for Homestead to arrive.

~*~ SW ~*~

"Well, that's one novel way to stay out of walker range and survive the winter," Shane comments to Rick.

They spent their first week on the road working a wedge between Campbellton and 285, staying east of the Chattahoochee River and west of Atlanta itself. Unlike their other searches, they aren't focusing on retail and industrial areas, but checking the residential areas too. Their main focus may be the Governor himself, but after the reports out of Virginia, they're looking for pockets of survivors too.

The damned Six Flags property took two full days to completely search through. At one point, there was a survivor group of some sort, but based on the graves, at least four didn't survive their stay here. There's no sign of gunfire, so they're assuming accident or illness, and there's no way of knowing if any of the group survived, although at least one person must have survived the four for them to be buried.

But it's a clear sign of other survivors, which renews his teams' efforts. They're doing neighborhood level searching too, clearing out the dead because it's the only way these bastards are ever going to dwindle down. He's given orders to take only half of any useful supplies in the houses they find. It's similar to leaving a few days of water and food in gas stations they cleared further north. They don't want to be the reason another group of survivors starves to death, even if it means leaving provisions potentially for hostiles.

Even with leaving supplies behind in the houses and marking larger locales like the Six Flags property for later supply runs, they're still set to bring a lot of items back to Homestead when they return home tomorrow.

But today, they've ventured into their first of the state parks, since Shane remembers the quarry plans to possibly use the state park in King County and they've evidence from Quinton's group doing the same. His first instinct was to look for the group shelter, but there's no evidence of anyone living there. But when they find the visitor's center, that's what has him amused.

Whatever group's here, if they're still here, removed the yurts from elsewhere in the park and rebuilt them on top of the visitor's center. Three of the large structures are on top of the building. It's proof that at some point, someone's been here. The open areas around the building show signs of gardening too.

"No one's shot at us yet," Karen comments. They parked in the loop of visitor parking. Technically, they're in range of someone with a rifle.

"Black Team, stay with the vehicles." She acknowledges the order, which keeps their medic with the vehicles. He steps forward, his team falling in behind him, and motions Karen's team to the west while his takes the east. The first week out, the teams were still adjusting to changes in partners, but this week, he can tell it's settling in. T-Dog's moving as easily with Danny now as he used to with Maria, and Licari and Abraham clicked even faster on Karen's team.

Once they're close enough to be seen but still have cover, he waits a few heartbeats and calls out a greeting.

Surprisingly, or maybe not, since it's not been a full year of this crazy world, he gets a reply. "Are you military?"

The voice sounds young and he exchanges a look with Rick. "Not entirely. Some of us were. Some used to be cops. Is there an adult we can talk to?"

"She's coming."

They can hear footsteps on the roof, which sound like the person's making an effort to be quiet, and a flash of a blue baseball cap. "If you're here to steal, we don't have enough to be worth it," a woman calls down.

"No, ma'am. We're here looking for survivors. Help where we can if people want to stay independent, but we've got a safe place further north."

"Refugee camps all fell."

"Yes, they did. At least we haven't heard of one that lasted." Hilltop may or may not qualify as such, but he's disregarding that since it wasn't set up as a temporary camp. "Our place is where a couple of farms fenced things up. Nothing the government sponsored, just the people who owned the places."

"You told Susan some of you were cops. Where?"

"My partner and me were deputies over in King County. We have a few folks who survived from Atlanta's police department that are with us today. Got a couple of rangers from the state natural resources department too, but they aren't on this run."

"Can you prove any of that?"

Shane glances to Rick, who looks sheepish. "You've got your I.D. with you, don't you, Grimes?" Rick nods. Shane hasn't carried a wallet in a while, but it doesn't surprise him that his partner still keeps up the old habit.

"My partner apparently hasn't forgotten to keep carrying a wallet," he calls up.

It amuses the woman from the roof, because she laughs. "Think one of you can land it on the roof? He willing to step out to be seen clearly?"

Rick shrugs, dragging the plastic card out and judging the distance. He ends up fastening the card to one of the meal bars from his vest with a zip tie and pitching it to the roof. He tugs his helmet off and steps just far enough out of the shade, and Shane hopes the beard doesn't throw everything off. Some people can't distinguish faces easily between clean-shaven and bearded.

"Deputy Grimes? You could do with a good shave."

Rick laughs. "About half my family keeps trying to convince me to shave, so they'd agree."

"You got family where you're at then?"

"Yeah. My son and ex-wife are there. My nieces. You already spoke to my brother. Adopted the punk back when we were still in diapers, but it still counts."

"Kids? They're safe?"

"Yes, ma'am, they are. One of my nieces… she's about two months old now."

"Nine weeks," Shane calls out. "Tomorrow."

Rick shrugs. "New daddy, can you tell?"

His usual magic with people is working, Shane can tell. The woman on the roof has gone from barely letting them glimpse the ball cap she wears to actually looking over the roof's edge to study Rick. The child's stayed out of sight, which he heartily approves of. They're good guys, but it could have been someone worse.

Shane takes the risk and steps out into the open sunlight too, unfastening his helmet. "If y'all are happy here, that's fine. We can leave some supplies, maybe check in next time we're in the area. But we gotta let you know we're hunting a predator that could be out here somewhere. He sent men out to attack a nursing home full of elderly and disabled people. Did kill some of the able-bodied protecting them."

"Seen some rough types like that in Atlanta when we used to get supplies there. We don't go that way anymore."

"Good idea." He rubs a hand across his curls, reminding himself he really needs to stop by Jessie's place for a haircut during his off-week.

"You can take in more people, truthfully?"

"Unless you've got a group of fifty lurking around, yeah, we can." Even fifty, they would figure something out. But he suspects this group is a small one, maybe even just those two, because he can't see a larger group letting a child enough alone to be greeting visitors.

The decision seems to trigger for her and she sighs and tosses Rick's I.D. back to him. Standing, he can see she's got a gun holstered on one hip and a rifle strap across her chest. "We did have a larger group, but most of us weren't ready for this. I can't in good conscience pass up a safer place for the kids here. Just me and Susan in camp right now. Russell took the other two out on the reservoir to fish earlier."

It actually doesn't take long to retrieve the others of the tiny group, since it turns out that Russell's a former forester with the state forestry department. He knew how to keep the park's radios running for staying in contact.

Neither adult is actually related to the three kids they've been looking after. Susan, the youngest at eleven, and her seventeen-year-old brother, Charles, lived next door to Russell before. They lost their mother and brother to the virus in the early days. Their father, Adam, died in August after a bite on a supply run. Kathleen, their fifteen-year-old cousin, lost her parents and both siblings and managed to reach her remaining family by outrunning the dead on foot and sleeping in trees at night.

After worrying their neighborhood was too close to Atlanta, Russell and his wife loaded the three kids and drove them out to the park last October. Like Adam, Anne Kaufman died on a supply run. Ruby's a lot younger than he expected, barely twenty. She was at the park when they arrived, hiding in the Yurt Village she used to camp in as a teen with her family.

They rearrange the seating to fit all the kids and Ruby into one vehicle, while Russell's happy enough to ride with Shane and Rick in the M35. Shane's not going to risk further searching with a kid as young as Susan along, so they radio ahead for an early return home.

Homestead is only seventy miles away, but since they frequently take differing routes home, it'll take about three hours. He's not complaining though because it still means being home by supper.

He's looking forward to an extra day with his girls. It's a thought that makes him smile all the way home.

~*~ DD ~*~

They're completely alone for the first time since Judith was born. He knows it's certainly by design, with Scout smirking over her shoulder at him and mouthing 'happy birthday' as she left with the baby in her arms as soon as Lori finished her bedtime feed. Carl's staying the night with Jazz and Abby's next door with Anaya.

Lori kisses him, nipping at his bottom lip and pressing him back into the couch cushions. He relaxes under her weight as she sits astride his thighs. It's leisurely, but with an undercurrent of arousal they have time to explore and enjoy for the first time in months.

He honestly didn't expect Lori's libido to roar back as soon as it did. She forewarned him that after Carl was born, it took close to six months before she wanted to have sex again. It's why it took him a stupidly long time one night when Judith was three weeks old to realize Lori's inability to settle to sleep was the same issue that brought him to her bed in the first place.

Solving that issue for her went about the same as it did that very first time, just without her being embarrassed or him worrying about returning to his own bed. They've been intimate regularly since, but until she settled on getting an IUD earlier this week, it's stopped short of where birth control was an issue. He's not trusting condoms, not when the risks of a new pregnancy too soon are so much higher without NICUs.

She's got his shirt open, her clever, teasing fingers stroking bare skin and making him arch underneath her. He slides his own hands around to cup her ass and drag her in as close as possible.

"Need you." His voice is husky and she responds by rocking down hard against the length of him through their jeans.

"Bedroom."

He takes it as a command instead of the breathy plea and manages to get to his feet. She cooperates by squeezing her long legs around his waist, making him groan as he loses the pressure and friction, but it's more reason to hurry in carrying her down the hall.

She keeps up the touching, one arm around his shoulders for balance and the free hand dragging nails up his spine with just enough bite to make his body absolutely ache for her.

edited scene

When his vision clears, he kisses her gently along her cheeks and forehead before claiming her lips.

"I love you." She's smiling that pretty smile that makes him twitch with wanting her all over again.

"Love you too." He moves off her reluctantly, watching for any signs of discomfort. Instead she just stretches languidly, looking very satisfied with herself.

He remembers this morning and what she asked. "You sure about Saturday?"

She's been wearing his ring since Christmas, but the part of him that never quite healed from Carrie still expects her to realize she has other choices.

Lori catches the uncertainty and draws him down for a kiss, cupping his face between her hands. "Saturday is just signing the book, Daryl. We could go forever without it and I'll still want to start every day by waking up beside you. I'm already your wife."

He returns the kiss, accepting the comfort and affection. She loves him, shown in easy, almost careless affection. It's the casualness that's actually reassuring. She's not after displays and romance, but rather the everyday expression of need and love that he knows how to show.

He buries his face in the soft hollow of her throat, relaxing as her hands massage his exposed skin. She understands him in a way he doesn't often even understand himself.

"Yours," he whispers softly.

He doesn't have to look at her to see how she feels about that. If she were a cat, she'd be purring. Instead, she soothes him with calm touches until his body melts under her touch.


	74. Karma

**April 8, 2011**

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol looks up from her textbook to see Andrea lingering in the doorway when the other woman clears her throat. She looks like she would rather be anywhere but in the infirmary.

"Karma is a complete and utter bitch," the blonde says as soon as she has Carol's attention.

"She certainly can be. Why are you quoting one of Merle's favorite sayings?"

"All the shit I gave Lori, coming back to roost." She sighs. "I need a pregnancy test."

Carol feels a sense of déjà vu from Michonne's visit as she marks her spot in the textbook and goes to sign out a test. She starts to ask if the timing is deliberate, but she knows it is. Cricket's the doctor on duty right now, and she always goes to do a round through the nursing home before going to supper.

Andrea takes the test and specimen cup without a word, heading off to the bathroom. Carol figures it's probably serious, if the blonde's willing to come ask for a test that she could probably pocket on a supply run, so she goes ahead and turns on the iStat machine to follow up with a blood test.

The glum expression as Andrea returns with the test in hand confirms it for Carol.

"Alright. Hop up and let me draw some blood."

They're both quiet as Carol preps the test and retrieves Andrea's medical record from the locked cabinet. She scans the original physical and frowns.

"You're the second person on the pill to turn up pregnant."

"Well, in my case, I can't blame the pills. I realized when we got back from Virginia that I missed at least two in the packet I started while we were traveling, and I didn't bother with any backup." She huffs a little. "Stupid, yeah, because they don't have methodical STD testing like we have here."

"That means we have to run the other tests again too."

"Yeah, I know."

"When was your last cycle?"

"January twenty-second." Carol looks up from where she's writing that down and Andrea shrugs. "Didn't really notice the first missed period. But the second, that makes things start adding up."

Carol grabs the gestation calculator and lines it up, even if she already knows in general from her own due date. "October twenty-eighth is the due date estimate."

"Go ahead and ask. I know you want to."

She tries to give her a reassuring smile as she begins the basic updates to the chart with taking Andrea's blood pressure. "And the father?"

"Two options, neither of them here at Homestead."

"In Virginia still then?"

"Yeah. And until I know one way or another, not something I'm mentioning. It's not like they'll be able to participate in the pregnancy, because I'm not leaving my sister to go to Virginia either way."

"We don't exactly have the ability to do paternity tests. There's some blood types that can work that way, but the odds that everyone involved falls on the correct side of the blood type chart are probably not in your favor."

"Hopefully for the baby's sake, it'll be obvious." Andrea sighs softly. "The potential fathers aren't the same race."

"It sounds like you aren't going to keep the baby." Although it does sound like she wants to continue the pregnancy. With anyone else, Carol would ask, but Andrea's a diehard career woman. She knows her options the same way as any single woman over thirty is always aware of, even if she would never opt for them.

"I think that either paternal option would be a far better one for the kid than me raising it. Him. Her." Andrea shakes her head, blonde hair falling to obscure her face. "I've never wanted kids."

"And if they don't want the baby, or you can't tell? Genetics can be tricky. It may not be obvious, not for six months or more."

If you laid the four babies born into Homestead side by side as newborns, their race isn't actually that distinctive, despite only two babies being of the same racial or ethnic background. Only Matty, with his bright blond, almost colorless hair, makes it obvious.

"I don't know that it's fair to either of them to state it's a possibility if I don't know for sure. They aren't even in the same community. I know Amy would happily raise the baby here, but I don't want to ask that of her, not with a new baby of her own."

"I think it's an option that should be considered. You should at least talk to her, because she'll be hurt if you don't." Carol actually thinks Amy's more resilient than Andrea gives her credit for. It would mean raising two babies about a month apart in age, but it wouldn't be any harder than twins.

"Yeah, I guess."

"We should do an ultrasound to confirm the date and check that everything's on track. You can wait and let Cricket do it or I can do it now. I've done enough now to do one solo." She actually did all of the currently pregnant women's ultrasounds as part of her learning process, except Denova's and her own.

Andrea nods. "Best with a full bladder, right? Can I do it another time though? I want to talk to Amy first."

It goes unsaid that she probably wants her sister here with her, regardless of the baby's future, so Carol nods. "Tomorrow after your run. I can probably be here, or you can let Cricket do it."

They note the upcoming appointment for Cricket and Carol hesitates. "Is this something you want kept quiet in general? Because I have to tell the council, and Rachel needs to know as your team leader."

"Scout's going to want me to transfer off the search teams, so we might as well not bother with any secrecy. Me suddenly changing teams will be an announcement all by itself."

That's true enough. Carol understands the women who don't want to give up their normal work as long as they can ably and safely do it. Thus far, only Maggie has had to make major changes, but if Andrea's made it this far in good health, there's no reason for her not to go on one of the regular supply teams like Michonne still does.

But there's no way Scout will be open to Andrea continuing to travel out on the hunt for a dangerous man, not heading into her second trimester by the time Scout's team rotates out again.

"I'll bring it up at the council meeting tonight then, and let Scout sort it out from there for you."

"Thanks."

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle sees the glance Carol gives Hershel as he ends his report, the final for the council meeting. He arches a brow at his wife, who smiles.

"I didn't have a chance to tell Hershel before the meeting, but we have a new pregnancy. Andrea."

"How far along?" Scout asks. Ever practical, his eldest daughter.

"Almost eleven weeks. She says she'd like to stay on a supply run team, but knows she'll need to transfer off Rachel's team."

Scout looks to Merle. "Think you can spare Bryce?"

"Figured I was going to lose him whenever Michonne pulled herself off runs anyway, so have at." The former officer may generally prefer the building team, but he was already considered for one of the search teams until the young lady from Grady refused to be transferred.

"I'll talk to him and Andrea at supper then."

"Eleven weeks would put her in Virginia," Shane notes.

"And that's a complication," Carol replies. "There are two potential fathers, both up north."

Merle spares a brief moment of relief that it's not Danny, with his on-again-off-again fascination with Andrea. Boy's too young for a long-term tie to a woman not interested in a relationship.

"We even got a way to figure that out anymore?" Tyreese asks.

"Blood typing, serology, and physical appearance, mostly. Even if we set up lab equipment, none of us have the skills, although I suspect if we got him the equipment and textbooks, Eugene could manage." Hershel looks thoughtful.

"She's also concerned about notifying them both, when there may end up no way to tell," Carol adds.

"She wants to exclude the father?" Shane voices it before Merle can.

Carol shakes her head. "Just the opposite. She intends to give the child to the father to raise, should we be able to determine paternity and he wants the baby."

Merle's relieved and not. "How likely is the blood typing? It took a paternity test to get my name on Jazz's birth certificate."

Hershel sighs. "Depends on the father and Andrea's. If both fathers have the same blood type, that makes it harder, but blood type is more than just the A positive or O negative and so forth everyone's familiar with. The testing we do on newborns or would do before a transfusion might help."

Since Carol's nodding thoughtfully, Merle assumes it makes sense from a medical viewpoint. "We may need to get nosy early though. Andrea's A negative, and we have Rhogam for now."

"The odds that one father would be Rh negative are not high, but both? Miniscule." Hershel arches a brow. "We should plan on just giving her the shot. We have plenty, although that's only the next two years."

"It expiring on us?" Merle asks. That's concerning.

"Yes. Although we might be able to improvise production later as needed." Hershel looks to Carol. "Do you have the blood type numbers anywhere?"

She nods, opening her notebook. "We're currently a little bit lucky. While the textbooks say fifteen percent of the American population is Rh negative, and we're close to that, most are men here."

"We have thirteen females here, seven O negative, four A negative, and two B negative. Two are still underage, two are beyond childbearing age." Scout gets an apologetic look from Carol. "And one cannot have children."

Scout acknowledges the look with a wan smile, but doesn't speak.

"I'm assuming Cricket took precautions?" Merle asks. His daughter is too damned smart to risk her health or the baby's, but he doesn't have access to how many males in the community other than his own family would have the appropriate type.

"She did. But it also means another Rh negative child, maybe another girl. Judith already added to the list."

"Might as well continue the Dixon tradition there," he quips.

"More universal donors wouldn't be bad," Carol acknowledges. "But if we aren't able to reproduce Rhogam, we should consider encouraging compatible donors versus die-hard adherence to biology for parenthood."

"Might be a hard sell to some," Patricia remarks. "Biological links to children are pretty hardwired in most folks here just from society. Saw it a lot in why people wouldn't foster or adopt."

"Perhaps we'll do better. We already have a lot of examples here."

Merle knows Carol's right on that. Most of the council are adoptive parents, and Hershel's well on his way to having more stepchildren. Leadership is setting the example.

"We can start now by making sure everyone is educated on the subject. No one wants a return to the era of stillborn babies to Rh negative mothers. Maggie's clear of that, but Beth's not."

Carol smiles reassuringly at Hershel. "We can do that. We see most of the women as part of the blood donation roster anyway."

They haven't actually needed to give blood to anyone yet, but the O negative folks of the community are on a rotating schedule to donate blood. It doesn't keep in the long-term, lasting not much longer than a month. Two pints in the infirmary fridge is enough to get started in an emergency.

"We still good there?" he asks. He's one of the people on the roster, and it's odd not to donate as regularly as he used to.

She nods. "Of the fifteen O negatives in Homestead, we've still got ten available for donations with Cricket off the list, especially with the teens not restricted by age as much."

"Didn't see much reason that Jazz couldn't." Merle's aware that his biological family is a chunk of that donation roster between him, Jazz, and Daryl. Something occurs to him, with blood types shared among families usually. "Amy's good too?"

"She's A positive, so no concerns there."

That winds down the meeting, although Merle hangs back behind the others to talk with Carol. "You think Andrea is really going to give up the baby?"

"I do. She's willing to acknowledge she doesn't want to be a parent, and even if neither potential father is interested, I imagine Amy will be happy enough to adopt."

"Well, I'm going to hope they can at least figure it out enough so the kid knows either way." He can tell they're both thinking of Jazz's issues about his mother. Knowledge is a necessity in some things.

Carol steps forward to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him. He puts his hands on her waist, but strokes his thumbs along her still-flat belly.

"All this talk of pregnancy... you think it's safe to tell the kids yet?" He's anxious for them to know, especially since Scout and Cricket both already know. It seems off-kilter that the others don't.

"I'm ten weeks now and everything looks good, so why not tonight?" she offers.

The ultrasound did show everything on track. Merle's got a copy of the grainy black and white image hidden in a nightstand drawer right now. "They're going to start a betting pool on gender, you know."

"And what side of that bet will you be taking, Mr. Dixon?" she asks with one of her Cheshire cat grins.

"Got seven kids, eight if I count Glenn like everyone else does. Plenty of boys, plenty of girls. Gonna just ask for healthy." He can tease, too.

"That's not a straight answer." She tries to pout and doesn't manage it.

"I love all the boys, but got a soft spot for girls. Wouldn't mind another tiny gal to raise up," he admits.

"Well, I'm sort of wanting another boy, so we'll just have to plan on a second baby after this one."

He laughs and kisses her. He can agree to that, especially if her pregnancy stays on this healthy, even-keeled path it's been on.

~*~ SP ~*~

Sophia tumbles into Jazz, hugging him tightly. He returns the hug, but gently moved away. She's hurt at first, wanting to continue to share her excitement about the baby sibling. But he's kneeling by his bunk, hands gripped around Logan's ankles and talking softly.

She feels bad then, because she didn't think about Logan at all. The boy makes it easy, since he spends any free time with Jazz, Honey, or the little girls. She's been a bit absorbed in her own life since he arrived, and the breakup with Jazz means she isn't glued to his side like she used to be.

It doesn't take a genius to realize Logan's too new to the family to know his place is always secure. She climbs into the bunk on the side of Logan opposite of his fuzzy dog and slips an arm around him in a half hug. He doesn't lean away, so she smiles.

"Hey, itty bitty brother."

That gets the desired reaction. "I'm not that little."

It's actually true. While Logan's not Dixon-tall, he is one of the tallest kids his age, just like Sophia's one of the taller girls her age.

"Just ask Jazz. Once you're a younger sibling in this family, you'll always be the itty bitty."

Jazz actually grins. "You have noticed that Cricket and Honey both still call me names like half-pint, right?"

Logan thinks it over and nods. "But they're your sisters, so that's different."

"They're your sisters, too. Just like our parents are your parents."

Sophia wonders if this is like Anaya. "You do know that Merle's not my birth father, right? And Abby's adopted sort of like Anaya."

"Really?" Logan's frowning, but it looks like he's thinking it over.

"Yeah. Abby's been family since she was a baby, but me? I met Daddy last June in a camp down by Atlanta. He sorta adopted me even back then, long before he married Mama."

"You're both excited about a baby?"

Jazz nods, twitching Logan's feet from where he's still got his ankles. "Mama loves kids, and we're kinda growing up on her, even you."

"She's not really my mama though."

"You can have more than one mama, you know." Sophia's aware of Jazz's conflicted feelings on his own mother, so she's unsure where he's going with it. "Judith has two mamas and two dads."

"And Christian has two mamas and no dads," Sophia adds. "He's adopted, too."

"Really? But he looks like Tara."

"His birth mother looked a bit like Tara from the pictures we saw."

"Besides, aren't you excited to be an older sibling?" Sophia asks. "I guess I haven't been much of a big sister to you."

Logan doesn't spare her feelings. "I only see you at meals or movies."

Ugh. She really didn't do the big sister thing well here. "Guess I need to make up for lost time."

He gives her a tentative smile. "At least you don't have a boyfriend."

Honey does spend time with Logan, but it's almost always with Eugene around due to her work schedule.

Jazz sighs. "You've just got to see Eugene like any of the others. You like Tara and Shane and Aunt Lori, right?"

Logan nods, so Jazz continues. "And Honey explained about Jesus."

Sophia looks at Jazz, puzzled. She's missed a puzzle piece here.

Logan explains. "I wished Honey would wait and date Jesus if he would move here. But he's gay, like Christopher."

"Oh, well, that does make a difference." She hugs him close and he actually hugs her back. "Eugene's a nice guy, really. And didn't I hear you say science was your favorite subject in school?"

Jazz picks up on that. "Eugene was a science teacher before, and he teaches science labs here sometimes."

"How about my next off day, we go see if he's busy?" Sophia offers. She'll catch Eugene early and make sure they can set something up, so he's prepared for Logan's request.

"Alright." Logan's leaning into her in definite cuddling, so she nudges Jazz with the toe of her sneaker. He wedges himself on Logan's other side.

"We're all gonna get a baby to spoil," she says, grinning. It still makes her want to dance. She really hopes the baby is a girl.

Logan finally ventures his first smile about it.

~*~ EP ~*~

Eugene's finally comfortable leaving the bathroom after his shower without a shirt. Nearly two months of living with Honey's proven she likes the skin contact when they sleep.

"What are you working on so diligently?" After her excitement over the baby news, he is actually surprised to see her sitting calmly with her sketchbook in the center of their bed.

"Ideas for our cabin," she replies absently.

He pauses, absorbing the 'our' in that statement. He knows, intellectually, that Honey's always intended to build her own place down in the little Dixon village. But it's harder to wrap his mind around the fact he's part of that plan, even though they're living together in his apartment.

"I wasn't aware you were ready to start building." He sits close enough to look over her shoulder at the sketchbook. He knows she's training with her father and Amy, and that she's taken architectural drawing classes.

He's seen her sketch before, but the usual sketchbook is artsy, sometimes even cartoony. This is akin to what he's seen in design books.

"All the ones expecting a baby are finished or close enough once we finish Glenn's. I'm trying to decide on the bottom floor layout, so the foundation can be poured."

She plops the sketchbook in his lap. He turns the page when urged, assessing each of her ideas. "These are all beautiful, Hannah. Not all cabins, though. This is more like a cottage."

It's the last design, with large windows and a tiny balcony above the small front porch. The floor plans sketched next to the exterior sketch show it's set up differently than the cabins he's been inside. Those all have bedrooms on the ground floor and only a loft upstairs.

This one has the similar open floor plan for living room and kitchen, with a decent sized bathroom based on the scale markings. But the bedrooms are upstairs. A bedroom takes up over half the upper floor, along with two smaller rooms.

"A study for you and a room for Logan if he sleeps over."

"No plans for anything else?" She's from such a big family and always seems so overjoyed by the prospect of new babies.

She turns so she can look at him more closely. "Like a nursery?"

He nods, dreading the answer a little because this isn't something they've discussed beyond him knowing birth control is covered in the long-term and unlikely to have an oops like Michonne and Abraham.

"By the time I would even want to think about that, Logan's likely to be a teenager and not needing to hang out." She reaches out and takes his hand. "I'm even supposed to go next month to get a new IUD. That's good for another five years."

Five years. Can he actually change his mind about children in five years?

"Eugene?"

"I do not know that passing on my particular genetics is in the best interest of our population." He gets the words out, somehow, but he isn't looking at her. She's from a massive family and she's good with kids in a way he will never be.

Her touch is gentle as she cups his face between her hands and makes him meet her eyes. "There's nothing wrong with you, and there's no proof it's hereditary either."

He leans into her touch. "There's no definitive proof, no. The statistics aren't yet clear and the genetics still being researched. But as long as it's a risk, how can I be responsible for passing on something that may not be compatible with our current world?"

"You have been nothing but an asset since you got here."

"It is difficult to unravel thirty years of being told otherwise." He can't argue that he has made some interesting contributions here. His ideas are more often met with requests for lists of materials than scoffing here.

She kisses him, and it's one of those slow, sweet exchanges that makes him hope she never changes her mind about him. One of her hands is in his hair at the nape, while the other still cups his face.

He can't _not_ say the words when she pulls back enough to just keep giving him that smile.

"I am unequivocally in love with you, Hannah Catherine." Saying the words he's kept to himself for so long is both terrifying and relieving.

Her smile fades, but before he can begin to worry, she's kissing him again. The urgency reminds him of the first night she was home.

"I love you, too," she says when they come up for breath. She's kissing along his throat and he tilts his head back to give her more access.

The discussion of the rest of their future can wait.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

Jesus listens to the couple arguing just outside one of the pharmacies Hilltop cleaned out once they put the Georgia system to use. Another woman sits on the curb, pale and sickly, but keeping watch nonetheless.

He exchanges a look with Oso, who just gazes back at him with those blue glass colored eyes. Buttons flicks her mane and he wishes the two animals could actually talk.

"If you're in need of medical attention, everything's cleared out here," he calls out.

They both snap their attention to him, and the woman on lookout flinches. He can't really fault her. You might think a horse would be noisy, like the movies, but one of Ezekiel's people introduced him to hoof boots for Buttons. She's not noiseless on pavement, but she isn't echoing sound around them either.

"Do you know of anywhere that isn't?" The man sounds tired and stressed.

"My home is where most of them are collected, and we have a doctor, too." Two doctors, but no sense in bragging on the surplus to people stuck on the road. "Is there something in particular you're looking for?"

It's usually antibiotics that small pockets of survivors are after, although heart and asthma medication are also high on the list.

The three exchange a look before the man answers. "Insulin."

Jesus refrains from a wince. If his people stockpiled early, maybe they might have more of the perishable medications. But Homestead? That's possible.

"We don't have any, but one of our allies might."

The looks of hope make him uneasy. He doesn't remember enough about diabetes to know truly how dangerous it is being without insulin, but the woman doesn't look healthy at all.

"You've got a camp?" the man asks.

"I do, with shelter and food. You're welcome to come there while we contact the others."

They look so exhausted, but after a brief conference, they nod agreement. The couple helps the third woman to her feet and she wobbles.

"Ever ridden a horse?" he asks. When she looks more hopeful than wary, he slides out of the saddle and leads Buttons over.

"When did you three eat last?" he asks, as the woman sways in the saddle. "My name's Paul Rovia. My friends call me Jesus."

The woman in the saddle actually smiles. "I'm Tina, and the other two are my sister, Sherry, and her husband, Dwight. And we haven't eaten yet today."

"Are you completely out of insulin?" He's already estimating how fast someone could come up from Homestead.

"I've got a couple weeks left, if I'm careful." She pats her backpack. "I've got special cases that keep them cold."

"How far are we from your home?" Sherry asks.

"With most of us on foot, we still should be there by nightfall. I've got some food, if you don't mind eating on the move."

They agree gratefully and he fishes out MREs from the saddlebags. He's grown a little fond of the things, and they're readily scavenged from overrun checkpoints. Since they're on the move, they have to eat them unheated, but it's far from the worst things he's eaten on the road.

The thing he's learned about small groups is that seeming friendly and offering food usually gives him plenty of information once they're comfortable. Having a dog and horse along seems to make it even easier.

By the time they reach Hilltop, he practically knows their life stories. They'll fit in fine here, if they can keep Tina alive.

The selfish part of him hopes Homestead has the supplies for more than just Tina's sake. It would justify a trip down there he just can't find a good reason for otherwise.

There's a little too much spring in his step as he goes to find the radio.


	75. Virginia Visitors, Part 1

**April 11, 2011**

~*~ Jesus ~*~

Jesus isn't entirely sure what to expect as he makes his way further into Georgia. He's not alone for the trip, since Olivia, Enid, Earl, and Earl's son, Kenneth, are along for the trip. That Olivia and Enid would want to see where their friends from Alexandria ended up doesn't surprise him, but for the blacksmith to want to come is a little more unique. He figures the Suttons would have made it a family affair if Tammy wasn't so busy with spring planting right now. Tina's family didn't feel up to a trip just yet, after months on the road.

He's glad it's been an uneventful trip. He's following the last route the Georgians used, and they haven't seen anything he would classify as a herd. The only signs of life they've seen are animals, mostly surviving livestock that are probably rapidly becoming undomesticated as more time without human intervention goes by.

The RV makes the trip a comfortable one, almost too comfortable for his taste. Even with Buttons and Oso, he tends to rough it on his sleeping arrangements while traveling. Buttons will enjoy the vacation. Oso is enjoying the road trip.

The first sign of people makes him a little nervous even though he knows the vehicles waiting outside Toccoa, Georgia are from Homestead. They've got four big semi-trucks on either side of the highway, pointed south. Honey's leaning against one of them, grinning as he pulls the RV to a halt on the highway.

"Got room for a passenger?" she asks.

He glances to the waiting semis, knowing they usually run a two-person per truck rule. "That gonna get you in trouble?"

She shakes her head and points to the blonde in the passenger seat of the closest truck. "We've got a trainee out today learning the ropes. She's a good enough shot to run shotgun for Glenn in my place."

With a wave to the truck, she hops on board the RV, greeting the others cheerily and thanking Earl when he gives over the front passenger seat to her. Jesus finds himself in a tight, affectionate hug that ends reluctantly. Oso immediate moves to plop his big head in her lap.

"Just follow the trucks. They shuffled the supply direction once we knew you were coming, so we've been working this stretch of highway."

"Finding much?" Just because they've got four trucks doesn't mean they're fully loaded, after all.

"An unholy amount. Toccoa evacuated really early on, from what we can tell at the police station from the chaos of paperwork left there. No one's wandered out this far that we can tell."

Jesus knows you can usually tell if there's been a larger human presence, because they leave dead walkers behind. Not every group gathers them up like the Homesteaders do. "Any more luck on finding survivors?"

"I think about half the problem's like the little group you found. Too many of them are staying on the move, rather than staying put someplace and trying to stay protected. We've all found evidence of where people have been, but no people."

"How far are we from Homestead?" Olivia asks.

Honey twists in her seat and smiles at the passengers. "Around seventy miles, so we should be there in two hours or so."

"I'm surprised Logan didn't wriggle into coming along," Enid remarks.

"Oh, he tried. But since this was a full supply run, Homestead rules apply. No one under sixteen. He's helping on a paddock building crew today after class instead, so that he'll be a little bit closer to the front gates."

"Paddocks? And he's building things?" Enid looks curious when Jesus glances up in the rear-view mirror.

"Learning to, yeah. We needed to expand the sheep paddocks because the flocks have outgrown the ten acres my brother kept his flocks on before all this. Fencing's for sheep is fairly light work, so they're running a youth crew on it."

After that conversation, Jesus isn't exactly sure what he's expecting once they've followed the semis into an entrance almost hidden by strategically placed vines and unkempt undergrowth. It's not winding through a deserted neighborhood of houses that were probably proudly lower middle-class rural domains once upon a time. Now they all have the abandoned air he senses in the towns.

"How much do you have enclosed?" Earl asks. He sounds as overwhelmed as Jesus feels.

Hilltop always felt like a big place, on the scale of end of the world. The Kingdom's a little more sprawling, but the old boarding school still isn't this big.

"Two hundred and fifty acres or so out here, but this is something they started working on during the winter. We could support everyone on the original area we had enclosed, but the council felt it was too risky."

"Does anyone live out here?" Olivia asks, ever the practical soul.

Honey shakes her head. "Not yet. Maybe later, once we are more confident of who's out there and how friendly they are. Everyone lives up on the original property for now."

She's studying the road intently, which Jesus can tell was once pavement but it's been layered over with gravel. Easier to maintain gravel, he supposes, and the pea gravel and oil mix that passes for pavement wouldn't hold up under the weight of the semi-trucks in the long term.

"Up here, when it clears out on the left, stop a minute. The trucks will go on without us."

As soon as he's stopped, she exits the RV, going to fencing that edges all the way to the pavement and pulls a hand-held radio from her gear.

In the distance, he can see a half-dozen people working, along with one much shorter figure that's got to be Logan. Four are working in teams of two, putting in fence posts in a pattern that's probably sensible enough if anyone knows about livestock. Two others are pulling wire fencing into place between the already set fence posts.

As Honey speaks into her radio, the tallest of the pair working the wire is the one that responds, pulling a radio off his belt. He calls out to Logan, whose excitement can't be missed because the smallest figure in the distance starts literally bouncing. It's apparently grounds for a break or end of duties for the fencing crew, because they start collecting up tools to a small truck.

Logan and the person Honey radioed end up on horseback instead of with the group at the truck. Jesus is fairly confident riding Buttons now, compared to his barely existent skills when he first lured her in out of the wild. But he wouldn't attempt to ride bareback, and that's exactly what Logan and his companion are doing. The mountain of a horse has a bridle and reins and nothing else. Stella lopes along beside the horse.

Jesus realizes a reunion on the RV is going to be rather cramped, so he manages to join Honey just as she opens a gate for the pair on horseback to exit the field. She's prepared for Logan's kamikaze dismount of the horse, because she's got her arms up to catch him. He gets about five seconds to brace himself before he's got his arms full of excited, overjoyed little boy.

The truck exits the small lane onto the gravel road and then Jesus realizes they aren't the only reunion. Enid's out of the RV, hugging the stuffing out of Ron Anderson where the boy popped out of the bed of the truck while it was stopped.

"He staying?" the driver calls back and Honey waves them on, so the small vehicle pulls off with the other four of the fence crew and two other dogs that look similar to Oso.

The rider is just watching in amusement as Logan finally lets Jesus go. "I gotta get going. I'm on shift in half an hour and I gotta stable Imbri and shower first."

"You gotta meet Jesus first," Logan pleads.

Jesus doesn't really need the introduction, because the guy looks enough like Honey that there's no mistaking this is her brother. He leans out to offer a hand to Jesus anyway. "Jasper Dixon."

It's a firm grip, reminding him even more of Honey. "Paul Rovia." Giving his real name makes the solemn expression change to a smile and he can see the mental note being made.

"Might get everyone on up so they can get a shower before supper. Mama said the ladies can use hers, but the guys will have to take turns on the upstairs or use the men's washroom in Pisces building. She's got them all sorted to bunk at the house anyway unless they're just bored enough to want the bunkhouse."

He gives a command to the horse and the big mare moves off up the side of the road at a trot.

Ron flashes them a grin as they all file back onto the RV. "I definitely recommend staying at the house."

"Why's that?" Enid asks.

"You'll see."

~*~ DC ~*~

Denise smiles kindly at the bemused expression on Olivia's face. "You look like I felt the first week here," she tells the former Alexandrian.

"It's weird. A lot of things remind me of Alexandria, all the conveniences, but then I'll get a glimpse of someone's holster or hear a snippet of supply run talk and I'm at Hilltop."

"They do try really hard to ignore the outside world at Alexandria, don't they?"

Olivia nods. "I think Hilltop did too, but they're more willing to adapt."

"And how's that going? I'd ask Jesus, but I'm not sure I could get a word in edgewise."

The bearded man doesn't seem to mind being appropriated to sit between Logan and Honey the next table over. While Denise thought it was to meet with Scout, all of the adults are humoring Logan's need to fill Jesus in on every last minute of the two months they've been apart.

"Rather well. I actually expected problems, with the way things went down. But Gregory's generally cooperative. I suspect it's because he's not trying to get into my pants like most of the other single women around."

Denise smiles softly. "I'd say his loss, but I'm not sure you'd get much out of it if he did come around."

"Yeah, he does strike you as the selfish in bed type, doesn't he?"

"From what I hear, most men are, but I can't speak from experience." Cricket laughs as she angles her plate onto the table before plucking Christian out of the carrier on her back. Sam darts off and returns with one of the high chairs, grinning broadly at the thanks he gets.

Olivia eyes the unmistakable baby bump and glances to Denise.

Cricket catches the look and smiles as she pats her belly. "Closest he got was a specimen cup."

"Oh. It must be an interesting request to try to make of someone nowadays."

"It would have been a weird request even before, in some ways, but probably better than some sperm bank and not knowing how much of their questionnaire is truthful."

"I suppose so." Olivia turns her attention on Denise with a knowing smile.

Neither of them fit in all that well at Alexandria, meaning that shared exclusion in group events led to conversations where they realized they get along. It would have been nice if Olivia were interested in women, but finding likely partners was hard enough before the world ended. Denise isn't optimistic of it now.

But that smile is a reminder that maybe not all things are excluded to her, lack of partner or not.

Jazz stops by to drop off a drink and a bowl of strawberries in front of his sister. "I saved him some before we made dessert." He accepts her thanks and makes a funny face at the baby so that he giggles, then turns to where Ron is sitting with his mother, Sam, and Enid. "I've got a sub for Saturday's game since you pulled that muscle in your shoulder today."

Ron looks confused for a split second and then grins. "Thanks. Tell me it's Honey?"

"Nah, that wouldn't be fair. Noah."

Denise wishes she weren't so far away from Jessie. The woman looks ashamed of herself. Jazz's polite fiction about Ron's shoulder is one that haunts his mother. Even weeks later, the physical therapy hasn't fixed the damage Pete doled out to his son.

"Alright. I'll be at practice tomorrow anyway."

"Good." He turns his attention to the girl next to Ron. "You're welcome to come. Enid, right?"

The girl nods, looking a lot shyer than Denise has ever seen her.

"Practice is about four o'clock, providing everyone's done their chores and can make it. Which reminds me, Ron. Patrick's covering your dish shift tonight so you can visit with your friend."

The concession makes the younger teenager's expression light up in a way few things do. "Tell him thanks for me."

"Have you eaten yet?" Cricket interjects.

Her brother gives her a sheepish grin. "Um, no."

"Better get to that before it's all gone. Suck to help cook and not eat it."

"Like Miss Katherine would let me go hungry," Jazz scoffs, but he does head back to the buffet, crossing paths with Tara as she joins her wife and son at Denise's table.

"Does everyone work all day like that?" Olivia asks.

"Jazz tends to set his own schedule around any community work he has to do," Cricket explains. "I'm guessing y'all saw him down at the new paddocks?"

"Ron too," Olivia responds.

"That's a volunteer thing. Ron gets extra hours in his tally outside of his required work shift. The sheep here, that's a special project of Jazz's that most people leave outside the realm of the general livestock. He tends to take extra responsibility for them."

"Just how many sheep are there? Your sister implied he outgrew ten acres."

"There were about seventy when everything first fell. But they've rounded up other sheep here and there, so his flocks aren't just the ones he started out with. He's still got more of his own sheep than can fit on the rotation system he uses for the paddocks, though."

"There's one hundred and fifty-two now," Ron adds. "I asked him this morning. We're off duty tomorrow, but I know he's taking another crew down again. Want to help, Enid?"

The girl shrugs. "I don't know how much help I'll be, but sure."

"How long are you staying, Olivia?" Denise asks. Since the trip is partly for medical supplies, it might not be a long visit.

"At least until Sunday. Earl's meeting with some of the tech people here, getting a better feel for the solar panels and interviewing with the interested folks who might want to apprentice with him up at Hilltop."

Denise wonders which of the young people they'll be sending off for a year or more. With any luck, Earl will cover extra bases and pick one of the ones already well versed in the solar grid here to help them at Hilltop. She knows that Eugene and Merle both have spent time on the radio walking Hilltop through repairs recently.

"Are you and Enid comfortable staying up at the Dixon house?" she asks. Her place is tiny, really, but with various cabins being completed, she knows the building's empty except for her, Jessie and the boys, and Honey's old roommate Lydia. They could easily stay in Michonne's old place.

"For a few days access to that lovely bathroom, I'm more than comfortable." Olivia grins. "Not that Barrington House is bad, but there's definitely not that much hot water."

"I thought she was going to turn into a permanent prune," Enid quips, making Ron and Sam laugh. "And the room we're in is really nice."

"We aren't actually putting that nice young man out of his room, are we?" Olivia asks.

Cricket shakes her head. "No. We refer to it as his room out of habit, I guess. He's been bunking with the other boys down in the basement since it was an option for him."

"It's a nice place, Olivia," Ron adds. "And Jazz likes it also because he doesn't have to tromp through the whole house in the mornings when he goes out for milking."

"You milk sheep?"

Denise understands Enid's puzzlement. She knew, intellectually, that in certain parts of the world, people milked and utilized sheep's milk. But even seeing goat's milk on the supermarket shelves didn't quite prepare her for the actual milking barn here, which is used for nothing but sheep.

"Jazz does," Cricket explains. "If you don't mind getting up at five a.m., he'll take you on the tour and show you how it works. They're going to build a larger milking barn up at the new paddocks and eventually have the goats up there too."

"What about cows?" Olivia asks. "We've got a milk cow at Hilltop, but her calf is nearly grown and we don't have the ability to rebreed her. Goat's milk is fine, but that's a limited resource too, since we don't know how old the three nanny goats are."

Denise can see the skills that make Olivia a good quartermaster coming to life as she thinks beyond canned goods and vegetable fields for her adopted people.

"If you keep milking the cow, she'll keep producing milk for a while. Years, maybe. Is the calf female?" Olivia nods. Cricket twists to the table behind and taps Honey's shoulder. "Send Jazz back over here. Tell him to bring his food though."

The message gets passed down the table to where Jazz is and the tall teenager snags his plate and drink and comes to sit down next to Ron. Cricket relays the issue about the cows and goats.

"Do you know how old the calf is?" he asks.

"Nine months. They found the pregnant mama wandering and brought her in. The books say she'll wean completely soon."

"She should, yeah. And you can get milk from the cow for a while. Unless you're wanting to build a herd, I wouldn't recommend her having another calf until her milk actually does dry up. Cows are a lot harder to keep fed versus your goats, from a dairy point of view."

"With no bull, I don't think rebreeding her is an issue."

"We could help with that. We don't have a bull, but one of the things we've been liberating from farms and veterinary offices is their supplies of frozen sperm."

"Seriously?" Olivia looks to Denise for confirmation and she nods, wrinkling her nose a little. The loft above the main barn is an interesting room, from a veterinary genetics point of view.

"It's how we're breeding most of ours, even the ones we have males for, to expand the gene pool further." Jazz takes a drink, mulling something over. "What about your goats?"

"Two adult females milking, one adult male. Both of the offspring are female, but we didn't figure breeding them back to the billy goat was a good idea."

"Not really. I mean, if all you were after was milk, it wouldn't matter that much. But if you want to build a herd, you need at least another male. Transporting one up there might be possible."

Denise laughs as Jesus gets co-opted into the discussion next.

"I think we might want to drive a lot more and spend as little time on the road as possible, because goats are damned noisy, but yeah, we could," he assesses.

"I'll have to verify with Hershel and Mama on the numbers, since the goats aren't my sole domain. But I'm thinking we can send four already bred goats and a male. That'll give you a diverse base, as long as someone keeps records. How much space do you have?"

"Plenty for five more goats," Olivia says. "What are you thinking?"

"Some of the collected sheep I have are a meat breed. I could send you a few ewes and rams, if you wanted to start a flock. These sheep practically produce litters, so you would get started a lot easier."

"Litters?" Even Denise is a little astounded at that description. She's seen the sheep that go to the milking barn. Pretty little things that don't look like story book versions of sheep. More like goats to her uneducated eye, actually.

"Yeah. That flock Glenn found? Those are Romanov sheep. When they started lambing earlier this month, we had four of the ewes have quadruplets that lived, and many had at least triplets. They can have five or six at a time, but that's not as common."

"That explains why you're building new paddocks," Jesus remarks. "That's a lot of lambs."

Olivia's mulling things over, exchanging a look with Jesus. "Do you think we can get more crop land enclosed so we can move the remaining gardens outside the main walls? I'm not comfortable putting live animals out there."

"Should be able to. It'll drive Earl's wife crazy to give up some of the already planted area, but for the prospect of a steady supply of meat, I'm betting the rest of the council will go for it."

They both look to Jazz then, and Olivia smiles. "Guess we have to find a livestock trailer for the trip back."

~*~ GR ~*~

Glenn turns from putting away the laundry that got taken care of while he was out on today's run to see Maggie stretched out on her back on the bed. She's holding her breath, eyes closed, both hands on one side of her stomach. It makes the swell of their growing child even more obvious.

"Everything okay?" How still she's being sends a note of alarm though him.

But when she opens her eyes, she's grinning. "I wasn't sure, at supper, but it's still happening."

"What's happening?"

"I can feel the baby moving."

"Holy crap, already? But I thought the book said it would probably be another couple of weeks because it's the first baby." It says eighteen to twenty-one weeks, and Maggie's not quite eighteen weeks.

He sits on the bed beside her, wanting to touch, but a little spooked as well. He's seen the ultrasound, and he's seen Maggie's misery with the nausea. Her body's definitely changed, filling in curves and softening in ways he finds fascinating from her original athletic build.

"Yeah. Guess she's making up for making mama so sick by saying hello early."

"Do you think I could feel it?"

"Probably not, but you can try. I can't feel it outside."

She moves one of his hands and he places his beside her remaining one. When her face lights up again, he knows they're going to have to wait for this part. He feels nothing but the firm baby bump.

"What does it feel like?"

"Like someone's popping popcorn in there."

He can't help himself. He laughs at that. "You said she. You think the baby's a girl?"

"Well, I figure the odds are in favor of a girl if you count up our biological siblings, and I don't like calling her an 'it'."

She's probably right there. With one sister on her side and four on his, that's a lot of female relatives.

"I hope you're right. I understand girls better."

She laughs now and pulls him down for a kiss. "You'd figure it out either way. I've seen you with the kids around here, Glenn. You're going to be a good dad."

He smiles at the reassurance. He likes kids, even if his sister's kids always acted like he was some sort of alien the few times he visited Michigan in recent years. "Maybe we should borrow Christian now and then for practice."

"I figure both his mothers wouldn't mind a night here and there to themselves, so sure." She holds his hand against her belly. "Maybe you can't feel her move yet, but the book says she can hear you."

Glenn thinks of the times he glimpsed people having conversations with Patricia or Lori's belly and smiles. "And just what should I tell her about?"

"Maybe you can tell her all about why you're so comfortable around girls?"

That's how he ends up with his lips brushing Maggie's bare skin occasionally as he speaks, telling the small life within her all about the sisters he misses so dearly. She cards her fingers through his hair, in sympathy for the vast unknown of his family fate.

He hopes that one day, the baby will know more than stories of the Rhees.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

Jesus stops reading aloud from the book he was given when he realizes Logan's definitely asleep against his side. He was offered quarters elsewhere, just like Earl and his son, but Logan's pleading gaze ensured that he accepted the alternate offer to bunk with the 'boys' in the main house. Stella's curled up on the floor next to the bunk.

Logan's excitement in showing Jesus where he lives now is reassuring, because it means he's happy. Honey's reported in regularly, and he knows the boy struggles even now with being homesick for Jesus.

He admired the colorful comforter, with its red and blue geometric pattern, along with the collection of books Logan's managed and a lot of drawings that he states are gifts from his friends. There's no mistaking the affection in Logan's voice for the people he's close to.

Most of them are a bit of a blur. He met so many people between their arrival just after four in the afternoon and the time he used Logan needing to sleep as a cover for his own exhaustion that he knows even his fantastic memory will struggle. He likes Honey's boyfriend, more so than Logan seems to, and he hopes that his approval will settle the boy's ongoing issues with Eugene.

The former science teacher is nothing like who he expected bubbly, outgoing Honey to pair off with, but somehow, the pairing works well. Jesus isn't so blind that he can't see just how devoted the man is to his friend.

The rest of the Dixons are mostly as he expected from Honey's tales to Logan, from Merle's gruff humor all the way down to Christian's ability to throw food half the length of a cafeteria table. He can tell there's been an almost visible effort not to overwhelm him by the sheer numbers of the family. She was quite amused to tell him that it's expanding even further, with even her stepmother adding to the baby boom.

He and Logan are almost alone in the basement. The two non-Dixon boys are still upstairs in some sort of Boggle tournament he's been informed he must participate in later when he's better rested. Jazz begged off on the reason of having been up since five a.m. and having evening rounds for the sheep. He just trekked through the basement about five minutes ago, putting away his weaponry in a gun safe near the outside entrance and heading for the bathroom on the other end.

"He probably won't wake if I move him to his bunk."

Jesus refrains from startling, but only barely. Jazz is standing near his own bunk, in the set of four away from the ones where Jesus was reading to Logan. The teenager's in plaid pajama pants and a sleeveless shirt, but he rubs at his bare arms almost as if he's cold.

"He'll probably want to sleep with me." The bunk is narrow, but not impossibly so, and he knows from past experience that Logan will sleep tucked in close.

"Yeah. He ends up in my bunk more often than he stays in his, most nights." Jazz glances at the other two bunks that Logan stated belonged to Patrick and Al. "He has nightmares still, sometimes, and so do they."

"Anything I should know about that?"

"Logan will go right back to sleep still if you wake him, and so will Patrick. Sometimes Patrick will talk for a bit, if it's a really bad one. But don't shake Al awake if you wake up faster than I do. He'll come up swinging if you do."

"Alright. I'll try to leave it to you, other than Logan."

"Thanks. Do you need anything?"

Jesus shakes his head. He's already shed his outer layers and knowing that Logan would likely sleep with him, kept a tank top on over the shorts he's sleeping in. It won't take much to shift Logan under the blanket on the bunk.

"I'll try not to wake you in the morning then." Jazz shuffles his own bedding around and as he settles down, Jesus wonders just how Logan actually fits. He knew Honey's younger brother was tall, from her descriptions and the fact that Honey herself is so much taller. But his mind still boggles a bit at him being nearly a foot taller, and he supposes sisters don't think to describe just how _pretty_ their brothers are.

He wonders briefly, if Jazz ever has issues with being too pretty for traditional masculinity, like he has where even the beard doesn't really help, or if the sheer size of the younger male keeps that sort of thing at bay.

"Actually, I wouldn't mind a tour of the morning routine, if you don't mind." He knows Enid was invited, so hopefully Jazz is willing for another tag-along. Jesus's innate curiosity means he likes to observe everything new he encounters.

Jazz's voice is partly muffled by the fact that he's lying on his stomach on his bunk and seemingly halfway to falling asleep. "See you at five a.m. then. G'night, Paul."

He waits until Jazz's breathing settles completely before moving Logan, not wanting to disturb the obviously tired teenager. As Logan moves easily in his sleep to snuggle against his chest, he feels homesick himself, but it's not for Hilltop.


	76. Virginia Visitors, Part 2

**April 12, 2011**

~*~ Jesus ~*~

Jesus isn't entirely surprised when all of the Hilltop visitors end up going on the tour of Jazz's sheep farm. Luckily, the Polaris UTV that Jazz uses seats six, and Logan didn't wake to insist on coming along.

They've already toured the milking barn and are watching Jazz cycle two separate flocks of sheep through the system. The second set of ewes is different from the first.

"These are the Romanovs, like what I suggested sending with you," he explains. "And I doubt they were milked before now."

"If they aren't a milking sheep, why are you trying?" Olivia asks.

"Partly to see how much they'll produce, since there's very little information on the breed I can lay hands on right now." He fiddles with the equipment that Enid and Kenneth actually helped him with after observing with the first flock of the well-behaved sheep. "But I only started cycling them yesterday."

"Why's that?" Jesus remembers from the ride down that this set of lambs is ten days old.

"You always let the lambs have all the milk the first week at least. They need the colostrum."

The milking part of the tour ends with an offer to show Olivia how it ends up in the cheese the community center uses for meals.

Once they're back outside, the pattern that isn't quite clear at the site they saw yesterday lays out easily before them now. There are four long rows of paddocks here, with sheds at the shared corner of each set of four small paddocks.

Jazz is explaining to Olivia and Earl about the system, which leaves Jesus to look and listen. Setting up anything like this back at Hilltop will fall more under their domain than his, other than him finding the supplies. He's seen enough abandoned farms that he can probably find enough to duplicate it, although on a smaller scale. They don't have this much acreage securely fenced.

They're led into one of the unused paddock quads. "The gates into the shed area slide around. Dad designed them so that I can move sheep from paddock to paddock without taking them out in the lane, at least as far as the old plan when I had fewer sheep. The lane's mostly for going to the milk barn."

Earl calls Kenneth over as he sketches down the layout.

"How many sheep did this work for?" Olivia asks.

"My original flocks were two dozen each flock, give or take depending on when I was replacing ewes. The extra paddocks were used for working with the ewes at different times."

"And the rams?"

"They're housed on the other side of the milk barn. If you want to have a set breeding program, you can't have the rams with the ewes. In fact, come meet a few of the ram lambs."

There are more than a dozen little lambs of various colors in a pen alongside the milk barn.

"These are all male?" Enid asks, leaning in to pet one of the friendly critters when Jazz gives permission.

"All sixteen of them, yes. The females from the same lambing are actually on the other property while we make the new paddocks. They have to be separated early because to avoid accidental crossbreeding."

"What will happen to them?" From the dour tone, Jesus thinks Enid already knows the answer.

"They'll be castrated and this batch will probably be moved around the property in electric sheep fencing to act as little lawnmowers until August or so. Once they're around a hundred pounds, they're destined for the freezer."

"I kinda want to be vegetarian now," Enid mutters.

"One of them is going to escape that fate," Jazz adds, looking more sympathetic than Jesus expected with apparently years of experience with the farm to table process.

"Really?"

"One will go north with you along with the Romanov ewes I'm sending." He turns to Olivia. "In a couple months, we'll send another half dozen bred ewes and another unrelated young ram, if you think you'll have room for them by then."

"Why the different breed of ram?" Jesus asks. He figures there's got to be a reason. Apparently, there are even spreadsheets set up for the sheep farm.

"Because I don't know enough of the background on the Romanov sheep on how they're related. Running loose like that, we aren't even sure exactly what farm they come from to see if there were records."

That makes sense, and he can see Olivia jotting down notes as fast as her pencil will scratch across paper.

"Ron said you had one hundred and fifty-two sheep," Enid muses. She's glancing out at the paddocks, doing a mental tally. "Seems like more than that."

"That count is the confirmed breeding sheep. It doesn't include the sixteen little guys here or either of the two sets of lambs belonging to the ewes we just milked. That's forty-three for the Katahdin and forty-five for the Romanov.

"Two hundred and fifty-six sheep?"

Jesus is impressed at Olivia's near instant mental tally.

"Now you know why I need new paddocks?" Jazz actually smiles at that. "I won't be keeping all of them. About half of each lambing is male, or sometimes females that shouldn't be bred."

"And the meat?"

"The Katahdins produce about forty-five pounds of meat per lamb, and the Romanovs will probably add another five or ten pounds to that. Crossing the breeds may change that around some."

It sounds like a lot of meat if you think about going to the grocery store, before, but Jesus knows just how much is needed to feed a larger community. "It's going to be a treat at first, until we can manage a full flock, right?"

Jazz nods as he hops over the fence into the pen with the lambs. He's walking among them, assessing for something as he answers. "Eat the surplus males, rotate the females back into breeding stock."

He snags one of the lambs and lifts him up. The solid-black lamb bleats and wriggles. "How about this one, Enid?"

She grins and accepts the little male. "He's like the nursery rhyme."

"Yeah, except no wool to keep up with." Jazz is back over the fence while Enid cuddles her new buddy. "We'll keep him up in the barn until y'all leave."

It's a tight squeeze, getting back in the Polaris with the lamb on board. Jesus ends up in the center seat between Jazz and Enid, instead of the girl riding between them like on the way down. Jazz keeps the speed even lower on the return trip, conscious of the extra passenger.

"With all the sheep, is that why you don't do runs?" Enid asks.

It's a source of conflict with the girl and Hilltop, where no one other than Jesus is really comfortable with the idea of a fourteen-year-old girl being outside the walls. Personally, he thinks that since she survived several months on her own outside of protective walls, it's shutting the barn door after the horse already escaped.

"Gotta be sixteen for the big supply runs, and that's not til August," Jazz replies. "I go out on some of the hunting runs, but those aren't usually areas that have to be cleared. And I've gone out on runs where we were disassembling something, usually if my dad's along."

"Doesn't that frustrate you?"

Jazz doesn't answer right away, which seems unusual for his willingness to pass along information. Jesus glances up at him, and there's something about the set of his jaw that makes him dread the answer. Crammed in like they are, he knows Jazz is tensed up. He can feel it in every point of contact they have.

"Considering I've had to kill someone on a run before, no, it doesn't."

Jesus thinks of the gun holstered on the teenager's left hip and the knife similar to his own pair, and how Jazz wore both even at supper last night. There's also the high-powered rifle currently strapped to the cargo area of the Polaris, which he saw Jazz with out in the fields yesterday. He may stay inside the walls right now, but he's imminently ready to defend it.

It takes Enid a minute to comprehend the answer. "I'm sorry. Did they get bitten?"

"No."

By the time Jazz tersely relays the tale of the nursing home attack, they've reached the barn, but even Enid sits until he's done. The lamb just wiggles in her lap as if she's holding a dog.

"It's not the dead to worry about out there, Enid," the older teenager says softly. "It's the living. At least the people that attacked the nursing home only wanted to kill them. Ask Dr. Denise about the others."

He slides out of the driver's seat and rounds the vehicle to take the lamb and disappears into the barn without another word.

Enid doesn't seem to be capable of moving yet, and when Jesus turns to look at the three in the back, he can tell the Suttons look as disturbed as he feels. And Olivia? She's got traces of tears on her face.

Jesus knows enough from Honey, and how her team in Virginia hunted the Wolves to the very last man. He suspects the rest won't like what Denise has to say.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol leads the two Hilltop council members from the community center to her office just outside. She laughs a little as they both eye the beanbag chairs in her actual office and she motions for them to just pick a desk in the outer area.

"It'll be easier to show you some of the things if you're at a computer." She opens the inventory program on both computers, although she thinks it'll mean more to Olivia than Jesus.

She watches as Olivia smiles a little, settling in at the desk Carol still thinks of as Lori's, even though it's just as likely for Patricia to use it. The two mothers keep the baby area stocked with the little playpen and various baby supplies.

"There's no daycare?"

"Officially? No. Excluding the babies, we only have three children younger than school age. The woman who normally watches those three while their parents are working just had a baby herself on March 24th, so we shuffled someone else into her place."

"So, the babies all stay with their mothers?"

"That can vary depending on the mother's duties and how long she wants to be on leave. The reason we have a set up in here is that the two women alternate duties between them now that they're both back working, and one watches the other's child as needed."

"What about the fathers?" Olivia laughs a little and exchanges a look with Jesus, who has been rather quiet. "Or the other parent in general?"

"Patricia's a widow, but she's part of the Greene family, so it's not unusual to see Hershel or one of his girls with the baby if Patricia needs help. She also has several teenage foster children who help out."

"Hershel's the veterinarian, right?"

"Yes, and head of our medical staff here, as well as council. We know we'll need to formalize a daycare structure at some point, with the baby boom here." She strokes a careful hand across her own abdomen with a soft smile.

"It's not really an issue as much at Hilltop, although Harlan told me before we left that we have our first pregnancy."

"We have six pregnancies at the moment and I wouldn't be surprised at more coming over the next few months. People like to reconnect in times like this. It's been nice to have Harlan to consult with us here." Carol reminds herself to send some sort of gift to the Hilltop obstetrician.

Despite her prediction that Olivia would be more interested in the inventory program Lori created, it ends up being Jesus with the most questions. She reminds herself that Lori quizzed Glenn and Scout heavily as she worked on it, so perhaps it's the supply runner mindset.

"You're sure it won't be a problem to set it up on a computer for us?" Jesus asks.

He's taken to the program, a duplicate copy of their own, with an ease Carol envies. There's something about him that reminds her of Glenn, and she thinks he's younger than she originally estimated when meeting him yesterday.

"We told Glenn one day we needed computer equipment. Thing that happens around here when I ask for something is that they tend to overdeliver. Check the electronics category."

Jesus whistles. "Well, at least it won't become obsolete in six months?"

It makes both women laugh, and Carol nods. "There is that advantage, at least. Those who are more computer oriented than I am will set up a couple of systems for you, and the backup storage. But I recommend making regular printed copies. At least nowadays, you don't have to budget for printer ink or toner."

"You're going to want a list of all the office supply stores in the Hilltop area, aren't you?" Jesus asks Olivia. After she nods, he looks back to his screen. "Would you be willing to spare the same for the other communities?"

"We can. It's not like I can't send Glenn out for more, especially since we go into the electronics stores for batteries and smaller items all the time."

"Alexandria isn't currently a true ally," Jesus admits. "But I suspect at some point, we will need to bring them into the loop out of necessity. Having them vulnerable, especially since they're not isolated geographically from Hilltop or our allies, makes me nervous."

"If you're concerned that communication or trade with them will make us cut ties because of the abuser in their midst, don't." She smiles reassuringly at him. From his expression, that's exactly what he worries. "As long as he doesn't show up down here, Homestead has no argument with Alexandria."

"And if he does?"

She likes that the young man covers all the bases and thinks ahead. "If we're forewarned of his disappearance from their population beforehand, there'll still be no problem. They should just be forewarned they won't be getting their doctor back."

"I suspect they would be grateful for his disappearance, if they had any alternative," Olivia adds. "No one there likes Pete. He's just seen as an ugly necessity."

"My assessment, along with what I know from Olivia and the lines of communication I've kept open with their recruiting pair, is that Alexandria won't last in the long-term," Jesus says. "They're not willing to adapt. It's like they're in a time capsule, waiting on the world to return to normal."

"And the other communities?" Carol knows what she's been told by her own people, but that's information from mere days of contact, not immersion like these two.

"The Kingdom was already the most adapted, although they were preparing more for life without electricity or technology. For being so close to DC, they ended up with very few people with the skills to maintain that for them. But they're good farmers and they have their own little militia."

"And Solomons Island?"

"That's a little bit of a different story. There's a research lab there, University of Maryland. They probably have a larger scientific population there than any of us do, but they got lucky that so many know their boats."

"Could they replicate the insulin closer to home? It wasn't terribly hard for us to collect Eugene's equipment." A university research lab would have all the goodies and more, she thinks. Most of their items were lifted from the Emory campus when Cricket's team went to find the research Eugene needed.

"Equipment wise? Probably. I'd have to ask. The problem would be that no community I've found so far has the livestock on the scale Homestead does."

Carol thinks over Eugene's supply requests and realizes he's right. They produced the quantity of insulin they did on the first trial run because they have so many sheep. Even if Hilltop began to collect stray livestock, they don't have the space for them yet and it'll take at least six months to have lambs old enough.

There's a plan taking root right now, but she'll need to run it by her own people, especially the council. Having Homestead as the primary location for livestock is risky in its own way, because disease or even natural disaster could cost them far too much. It's the sort of vulnerability that has Homestead expanding cropland far beyond their immediate needs.

But first, she should probably see if it's even welcomed. "If Hilltop had help in fencing in more property, would you expand your farming operations?"

Olivia actually makes the connection a few seconds faster than Jesus, by the brilliant smile she displays. But she doesn't speak, looking to the more long-term Hilltop resident.

"If you're offering skills and labor to make Hilltop larger, I can promise you that not even Gregory would turn that down," he says at last. "I understand helping us on the small scale. It fits what Honey says about good helping good. But why large scale?"

"Remember the saying about don't put all your eggs in one basket?" she asks him. He nods slowly. "Right now, we're strong and successful here and can share the wealth. But only one wealthy community isn't enough."

"Insurance." He gets it now, she sees. "But why Hilltop? The Kingdom might benefit faster."

"Because as long as you're there, my family has a stake in Hilltop's success. That's a tie we don't have to the other communities."

"Oh." He's looking at the desk, looking as out of touch with the idea as she felt back when Honey decided she and Sophia were family without any input from Carol herself.

She leaves him be to absorb the scope of what his importance to Honey and Logan means to the rest of the Dixons and goes to review the work rosters with Olivia. By the time the Hilltop folks return north, she thinks the true reality will have set in for Jesus.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

"Jesus! Guess what?" Logan plops onto the seat next to Jesus at lunch.

The room's a lot less populated than it was at supper or breakfast. He's actually missing most of his group, other than Olivia. Earl and Kenneth are actually out with the exterior fencing crew, and Enid's out with Jazz's paddock crew.

Lunch is served in the field with the prettier spring weather. He saw them load up boxed lunches and coolers earlier to deliver to the farm and building crews. Combined with run teams out for the day, he thinks less than half of Homestead's population is here.

"What's got you so excited?"

"Miss Gail says since I finished all my work and got a perfect score on my science quiz, I can have the rest of the day off."

The pleading, hopeful look on the boy's face tells him that he wants to spend that extra time with Jesus.

"And what are we planning on doing?" he teases. There's nothing he might do that Logan couldn't tag along with.

"Dunno. We could go help with the paddocks."

"You need to eat lunch first." His own plate is half-empty already. Even better, he actually helped with lunch prep, because Carol brought him and Olivia along.

He gets the feeling not many people ate capable of saying no to that earnest belief she has that you'll enjoy the job she's asking you to do. Olivia's happy chatter with the lunch staff reveals Carol popping in as an extra set of hands on various meal shifts is a regular habit of hers.

It reminds him of Honey's comparison of Gregory's inactivity versus her mother's need to be aware of the state of her people.

Logan whirs through the buffet, returning with a plate and companions. When he ends up surrounded by kids on their school lunch break, he looks to Olivia for help. She's hiding a smile where she's sitting with Carol. The Dixon matriarch doesn't even bother to hide _her_ smile.

He recognizes Anaya from last night and is half-certain he met at least two of the other children at prior meals. Thankfully, they have pity on him and Logan reintroduces them.

"Abby, Anaya, Molly, Luke, Mika, and Lizzie."

He recalls Mika and Molly as part of Logan's sports team now. The two boys introduced last night are missing, but the family resemblance with two of the new children to Mika and Molly indicates siblings. He seems to remember a Dixon cousin named Abby.

They pepper him with questions about Washington, DC from before and Hilltop specifically. It makes lunch pass quickly, until a pretty older woman summons the school kids to her by shaking some sort of wooden musical instrument.

Logan isn't the only child who stays seated with him. Anaya smiles in a way that tells him he's about to get talked into something.

"Are you done for the day, too?"

She nods, neat braids bobbing. "I usually am. I usually go with Jazz or Sophia after lunch."

Ah. Logan's already mentioned Jazz, so he suspects he's being recruited as their escort down to the new paddocks.

"Are they allowed to go to the paddocks?" he asks Carol. He doubts they would pull any tricks with Carol sitting at the same table, but best to ask.

"As long as they're with someone qualified on firearms over sixteen and check out at the watch room, yes."

She tosses him a set of keys on a lanyard that looks remarkably like the gate keys he knows Honey has.

"Check by the watch room to get a walkie issued. You are armed, right?"

His knives are visible, but the holster at his back less so. He lifts his vest to show it.

"Good. Use the red tabbed key to check a rifle out of the armory. The kids know where it is. I usually walk them out if Jazz is off the main property, so you'll save me a trip."

He nods, gripping the keys tightly. She's casually handed him not only access to the property, but the armory too. He doesn't imagine everyone has that key. "I'll keep a close eye on them."

Carol just smiles, expression warm in a way that makes him understand Honey's attachment to her. The kids snag his dishes and take them to the sink for him.

The stop to pick up the walkie ends with a crash course on how it works. He considers going to the RV, which has his own rifle and Earl and Kenneth's, but figures he might as well opt to use the armory and spare the detour.

Logan chatters through most of the half-mile or so walk, only falling silent after they lock the second gate behind them. He sprints ahead once they're in sight of the main paddock gate, making Anaya laugh.

"All morning, he couldn't wait to see you at lunch. Now he can't wait to see Jazz," the little girl says.

"He seems to spend a lot of time with Jazz." More than Honey, but she doesn't have duties that allow a child along like her brother seems to have.

"Jazz doesn't mind teaching us stuff, and Logan really likes animals."

"He certainly does."

She frowns a little. "I heard Honey tell Jazz you were a foster kid, like me and Al. A real one, before, not like how it is now, where they keep you for real."

He feels a wave of sadness for the girl, if she were a long-term foster kid like he was. At least she's found a family now. He's only seen Scout with her so far, but there's no mistaking she adores the child.

"I grew up in group homes around DC. Never really stayed with a family long enough for adoption to even be mentioned."

"And then you got too old."

It's the knowing look she gives him, with eyes too old for nine. He's seen it in dozens of other kids before, kids stuck in the system only to age out to no support at all.

"And then I was too old."

"I liked the group home better." It's said with the air of telling a dark secret. "No one pretended you might get adopted once you were there."

"No, they usually didn't." He never quite looked at it her way, that the truth was better than false hope.

"When everyone got sick, all the adults left except one. She boarded up all the windows and doors on the bottom floor. She stayed until she got sick and said it wasn't safe for us if she stayed." She reaches out and slips a small hand in his, but she isn't looking at him.

"She was right, if she had the virus. Were there many kids left?"

"Just four. Some went to the hospital, before Miss Weber locked up our building."

"Are the others here?" God, he hopes so. Dead children walking is one of the more horrific things he's seen.

"No. Kenya wanted to leave. She was older, almost thirteen. She swore she could find her mama, and Elizabeth wanted to go try to find her family, too. They climbed out one of the second floor windows. Maybe they really did find their families."

"I hope they did." As unlikely as it is, maybe they did.

"Sonja and me stayed til there was no more food. Then we climbed out the same window."

She stops their progress short of the working group, and he suspects once she's speaking, she can't stop. When Jazz looks over, he signals for them to be left alone. Jazz corrals Logan away.

"Sonja got eaten. She screamed a lot."

She makes a hiccupping sound, and he recognizes the quiet crying he's far too used to from his own youth. He kneels so that he can hug her to him, shifting them both so he's seated on the ground with her in his lap. She begins to cry in earnest, accepting the comfort he offers, and he wonders if she's spoken to anyone at all about this.

But for now, he's just going to be her safe place to cry. The rest he can figure out later.


	77. Virginia Visitors, Part 3

**April 14, 2011**

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane turns his eight newbies over to Glynnis. Only one child, a young teenager, in today's group, although two of the other families with him have adult children in their midst. They holed up in an industrial area with strong fencing after not making it to Atlanta before the firebombing, much like Shane's quarry group.

He's not entirely sure they would have found them since the group was settled north of I-20 and outside the area they were searching. But the group was gleaning supplies off abandoned trucks at the truck stops along the interstate near Villa Rica, which brought him into contact with their leader, Lois.

She didn't immediately jump on the idea of coming to Homestead when they met Tuesday. Shane's group trailed back up to I-20 after finding nothing but loose critters and occasional clusters of walkers to put down, everyone ready to get home. They found three RVs pulling supply trailers waiting for them at the Pilot truck stop.

"Tåta!" He pulls Anaya into a hug, grinning. She isn't the only child weaving her way into the group, as much as they have tried to avoid many parents being part of the search. He can see Carl greeting Rick, and Karen's adopted boys are swarming her happily.

"Where's your mama?" he asks.

She arches a brow. "_Nåna_ is not home yet. Grandpa says another hour."

Shane checks the time, realizing Scout's supply run is running overtime. Usually that's good news, with something extra found that needed more load time.

"And what have you been up to this afternoon?" She's grubby, just enough dirt to show she's definitely been outdoors a while.

"Picking broccoli with Jazz." She points toward one of the small trucks used just for on-property work, where a crew of teenagers is unloading more broccoli than Shane really wants to think about eating. He doesn't recognize one of the girls, but remembers the visiting Virginians before he asks Anaya.

"Think you can go help him a bit longer while I go shower?" He's dying for at least ten minutes in hot water. The weeks on the road always end up making him feel grubby, despite the fact they do have solar showers and baby wipes. It's just not the same.

"Yeah. And I'm supposed to tell you that Judy's at Grandma Carol's if you were back before supper."

"Good to know." She scrambles back to join her uncle, chattering happily to Jazz.

He's tempted to stop by the main house to see Judith first. Even though he's away no more than four days at a time, it seems like she advances so much when he misses those days. It's hard to believe she's already over two months old. Instead, he shoulders his and Rick's laundry duffels to drop off on the way.

Lori's in the middle of folding a load of laundry when he pushes the door open. She smiles at him in welcome and puts aside the pile of T-shirts to give him a hug.

"I bring you more work and get a hug out of it?" he teases, dropping the duffels in the pile her crews will likely tackle tomorrow.

"You're home safe. That's what the hug's for."

He understands the sentiment. He feels similar about the weeks Scout is out for days, not just that his wife's home safely, but toward Christopher for being at her back during that time. Weeks his teams are out, Lori's got two children with fathers in the unknown.

"How was Judy this week?" He gets some updates over the radio, but only really big ones. Extended radio chatter while they hunt a man known for wiping out other survivors just isn't a good idea.

"Cranky for a couple of days. Then she slept a full six hours last night. She's also managing to get her hands in her mouth on purpose now." Lori grins. "Luckily, so far it's Daryl that she's sliming with baby drool hands afterward."

He laughs. "I doubt he minds. Anaya says she's up with Carol?"

"Yeah. Carol's finally hit the stage of desperately needing a nap in the afternoons, so she snagged Judith on her way to go nap since it was her naptime too. Did Anaya tell you Scout's team got delayed on coming back?"

"She did. Glenn's teams back already?" Depending on what Patricia's doing today, with Carol temporarily off-duty, Lori's usually the relay point as Carol's primary assistant.

It's hard to tell teams on-property because the vehicles used for supply and hunting runs aren't always the same. The search teams have set vehicles, which are inspected with a fine-tooth comb by the mechanics on their off weeks. But for Daryl and Glenn's teams, or whichever search team is at home and helping with supply runs, the vehicles vary based on just what they think they're hauling that day.

"They brought in a few new animals this trip, so they're unloading in Hershel's quarantine area. Beat you back by about half an hour, actually."

"Do I even want to ask?"

Lori just laughs as she returns to her folding. "Fairly mundane farm animals, since watch didn't gossip about it, I suppose. Not like when he found the bees last week."

That was a retrieval trip Shane's not sure he wants to repeat. Seventy-three hives that survived a lack of human intervention for the better part of a year. There was little chance they wouldn't move the bees, not once Lenore heard about them, but it was almost easier when they relocated the rabbit farm.

"At least Merle didn't have to build anything for those." The hives are strategically placed in a couple areas near the crop fields, with several folks from the farming crew learning to be novice beekeepers as they go.

"True. You met any of the visitors yet?"

He shakes his head. "Think I saw the girl over with Jazz earlier, but didn't spy anyone else new other than the eight we brought back."

"They're probably all still with various crews for the day. Merle's been pushing his crews hard with the good weather, and I think most of them were out with him today." She hesitates a moment. "Anaya had a little meltdown earlier this week."

That alarms him a little, but if it was serious, that would have gotten mentioned over the radio reports, surely. "What about?"

"Honey's friend, Jesus? Apparently, he grew up in foster care too. Led to her talking to him about being in a group home when everyone got sick. I'll let Scout go into the details, but most of the blanks got filled in."

Damn. They knew she was in foster care, but nine's so damned little for group homes, which tend toward teenagers that there aren't as many individual foster homes available for. No wonder she's standoffish with most adults, and he's still not sure how he managed to be one of the exceptions to the rule for the little girl.

"Guess we're in for a talk tonight," he manages. "Got anything you need me to deliver up on my way home?"

She points toward a laundry bag he recognizes as their general home bag, so he shoulders it and bids her farewell. Scout will be home soon enough to settle all the questions and worry dancing in the back of his mind about Anaya.

~*~ MD ~*~

"Hey, pretty lady."

Normally, Carol waking to those words from Merle, she would know they're directed at her. But considering his voice is drifting to her from the direction of the office, where the crib is, she guesses Judith's the one getting the sweet talk right now.

It carries on for a while, chatter from Merle and babble from the baby, letting her know that he's changing a diaper. He steps into the doorway with Judith cupped in the crook of his arm, smiling when he sees her laying there with her eyes open.

"I see you both were getting your beauty sleep." He crosses the room to claim a kiss, but it's a mere brush to what he might do without the baby present.

"While I'm glad I haven't had any of the nausea the others had as long as I avoided that mint toothpaste, the afternoon bouts of narcolepsy are a little annoying."

It makes him laugh, and he slides a hand down to cup it protectively over her belly, which shows no signs of changes yet. "Hopefully, that won't last long and you'll be back to running circles around everyone else."

"At least I have a sweet nap buddy." She sits up, even though it dislodges his protective hand, plucking Judith out of his arms and making a happy face at the baby. Judy smiles brightly, waving her arms wildly.

Merle turns his attention to the ten-week-old baby instead, tickling her little bare feet. "She's getting chubby finally."

"Lori actually had to put her in something bigger than a newborn outfit today." The little green romper leaves a lot of skin exposed, but the weather's been so warm that none of the babies are wearing much more than rompers and onesies.

"Gonna be a big girl, huh?" Merle asks. "Grow big and tall?"

Carol is actually curious on that. She doesn't think Judith will manage the height of any of the Dixon girls, but Lori's tall for a woman. If any of the new group of babies are able to get as tall as Scout, Cricket, or Honey, she's probably the best bet. Merle's been fairly certain the above-average height of his biological children is from their mother's side of the family.

Judith's done with playing though, since she grimaces a little. She passes her back to Merle. "She's probably getting hungry. Can you take her to Lori?"

"Can do one better than that. Saw Shane heading up toward the deck when I came down the hall. Bet he's come looking for her."

She gets a farewell kiss as Merle heads off down the hall with the baby, and she can hear Shane's voice in the distance. It's good to hear, to know his team made it back safely again, but it reminds her that he was bringing back survivors.

With a brief brush of her own hand to her belly, she swings her feet to the floor to get back to her day.

~*~ AF ~*~

Abraham steps out of the shower in the group washroom to realize he's not alone. He reaches for the towel, but he's in no real hurry considering Michonne's seen him naked enough by now. Besides, she's the one in the _men's_ washroom.

The baby's thrown a wrench in the casual sex agreement they had going before he went to Virginia. Sleeping together without any ties worked better before there was a permanent one. He misses it more than he thought he would.

"Everything okay?" he asks, because her not waiting until he's dried off and dressed seems to indicate something urgent.

"The baby's fine. Saw Danny leave after his shower and figured there wasn't much point in lurking outside."

He chucks his damp towel over the drying rack and reaches for clean boxer shorts. "Needed some eye candy while we talk?" He might be confused on sleeping with her right now, but his mouth tends to engage along a certain path regardless.

"Something like that." She smiles a little. "Wanted to tell you before I told Ryan that I'm asking to drop off the supply team. Figure the point where I gotta move to maternity pants is far enough."

That makes him really look at her, without avoiding the mid-point of her frame like he's been doing lately. She's not dressed in her usual jeans, top, and form-fitting leather vest. Instead, she's wearing loose cotton pants and a shirt that really leaves no doubt that she's pregnant.

He can't say that the decision doesn't make him relieved as hell, because the worry of her encountering any of the monsters possible out there does feature in his darker thoughts. He steps into his pants as he studies the changes in her figure closely. "You decided on how you're going to spend the rest of your time?"

"Figured I was going to split it between taking some watch shifts and working down on the farm. Always wanted to have a garden, but didn't have time in the city. Might as well see if it's all it's cracked up to be while I can."

It's hard to picture Michonne on the farm, but he reminds himself that she became a warrior after civilization fell. He knows her, yet he doesn't.

"When's the ultrasound again?" he asks. His hands shake a little on the question, and he knows she notices. He has the video from the first one, but he's never been able to actually watch it.

"In two weeks. Got it set up for a Friday afternoon to make sure you can be there if you want."

All their conversations have been permissive of him not being involved, but the fact that she keeps bringing him in the loop makes him think her preference is for him to get his ass out of limbo. Her hand rubs across the swell of her belly in that absent way women have when a baby's moving around, and it makes his breath catch.

He can't stop the question either. "Is the baby moving already?" He can't remember, exactly, when that's supposed to start. He missed most of Ellen's pregnancy with Becca due to being overseas, but he recalls A.J. getting active around the time of the big ultrasound.

"Yeah. Easier to tell than with Andre, since I know what to look for. Been noticing for the last day or so."

He's not entirely aware of his own movement until he realizes he's close enough to touch. It's a dumbass reaction, because while he may not remember a lot about pregnancy development, he does remember it takes longer for him to feel. But she doesn't move away from his touch, guiding his hand to where hers just was instead.

"Couple more weeks, and you'll feel it too," she says softly. Her gaze is intent on his as she moves his hand slowly across her belly, not just in the one spot. It feels like she's making him map out the child they now share.

There's a question there, in her calm expression and in putting his hand on her.

"I want to experience that, very much." He barely recognizes his own voice as past grief wars with the need to have something more in this world than what he has now.

She smiles, and he's not ready to be part of more than being a father, but something deep inside him tells him if that switch does eventually flip for him again, it's going to feature with ebony skin and the same smile that lured him into her bedroom the first time.

This is something more than surviving, bringing new life into the world.

He wants to live again.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

Jesus feels sleepy between his full belly from the delicious supper and having been woken in the night. Even though Jazz did warn him of the potential for nightmares among the boys, it was still unsettling to witness.

Patrick woken them all just after three a.m., and it might have been less worrisome if the teenager were noisy in his distress. Always a light sleeper, Jesus woke to the whimpering sounds, but Jazz responded faster. He crossed the little aisle to Patrick's bunk, voice pitched too low to really make out as he soothed the older boy.

What he could see was Jazz, who Honey warned him was very nearly touch-phobic to anyone much older than Logan, carefully smoothing Patrick's hair as he spoke.

He wonders just how often Jazz's sleep is disturbed by one of the others. Even more so, he wonders if he has nightmares of his own. He didn't go back to sleep, instead opting to go watch a DVD quietly.

Jesus joined him, just as a bit of quiet companionship that got him a hand laid across his shoulder and a solemn, "Thank you, Paul" when the time for Jazz's morning chores rolled around.

"You look very lost in thought," Honey says, nudging him as she sits down with a couple of fruit cups in hand and slides one his way. "Why are you sitting by yourself?"

Fiddling with the seal on the pineapple cup gives him time to formulate his answer, as well as feel a little thrill of happiness that she remembered it's his favorite. Her own fruit cup looks like it might be pears.

"Logan got excited over the ice cream." He indicates where most of the children are gathered in one area with small servings of ice cream. There wasn't really enough for the adults in this batch. Even with Homestead's largesse, some rationing exists.

He's sitting outside in the area he would call a park a year ago. The sports fields are nearby, which is where the kids were playing when he followed Logan out. There's a complex climbing structure near the picnic table area he's sitting at, but whatever game the kids were enthralled in didn't involve it before a couple of ladies appeared outside with calls for ice cream.

Honey gets a little worried or impatient by his non-answer and leans into him. He enjoys the contact, sliding an arm around her and abandoning the fruit cup for a moment.

Answering the question is a mix of emotions he's not sure he wants to express. He's spent most of his time alone since the world ended, by choice and by necessity both. Being here reminds him that there's an alternative to that, but he doesn't want to monopolize Honey's time. He decides to opt for another partial answer.

"Did you know that the boys all still have nightmares?" In fairness, Patrick's old enough to probably be offended by being called a boy, but the seventeen-year-old shows none of the anxiety to grow up faster that Jesus remembers having at that age.

"I know Logan does, because he tells me. The rest do too?" She's worried, her own dessert abandoned now.

"I can't speak for your brother, but he told me the first night I was here that the rest do. Patrick had a bad one last night."

"Damn." She sighs heavily. "Do you know what about?"

He shakes his head. It's a fair question. Any single trauma might not be cause anymore. "Jazz spent at least half an hour talking him down so he could sleep again."

"I'll get nosy about it," she promises. He gets a bit of a cuddle before she returns to her fruit and nudges him to eat his.

"Where's Eugene?" While Honey's boyfriend is less underfoot than he expected a fairly new couple to be around each other, he is usually around after supper. The more he gets to know the older man, the more he likes him. It doesn't hurt that he openly worships Honey.

"He's in some meeting with Earl, Gage, Abraham, Danny, Olivia, and my parents about what supplies will be best to import from here, since we already have them, and which ones will be better to scavenge closer."

He's surprised he didn't get rounded up for that one, but then again, he's not precisely needed if Olivia's there. Unlike Gregory, the new Hilltop quartermaster has a lot more realistic viewpoint of what can be managed, and she's been slowly putting more responsibility on others for him. And with Abraham back today from the search team he was out on, the big redhead's really familiar with the area around Hilltop too.

"Has Earl decided on his apprentices yet that you've heard?" Jesus hasn't had the chance to talk to the blacksmith yet. He's tried to keep his days here focused around Logan, since his time is so limited.

Earl's been nosing around the new construction and farm both, usually with Kenneth alongside. He imagines that the man and his son will have a lot of information for Tammy when they return.

"Gage is going, for certain. He's got the strongest background in electrical of anyone we can spare, and while I don't think he wants to be a long-term blacksmith, he'll learn enough to pass it along to others. Probably Miguel too."

Jesus remembers that the tall, slender redhead is one of the Eldridges, so there's even more factors at play with him being at Hilltop a while. He may not work actively on his family's farm these days, but growing up there makes him an asset for the less experienced farmers of Hilltop. He can't place Miguel though, but since Earl was meeting with a lot of the older teenagers, that's not surprising.

"Just the two?"

"There's two others that may cycle up there once Gage comes home. He won't stay as long as Miguel, I think."

"It sounds like a lot of trips planned between us." He likes the sound of that, although he'll have to be more regulated in his own explorations to schedule around the visits. "Do you think Carol will be open to Logan traveling?"

He understands Carol's need for caution and keeping children off the road. Every community has their horror stories of lost children. Anaya and Logan's survival is damn near miraculous.

"Maybe, depending on who is traveling with him." She takes his hand and squeezes gently. "I should be able to each time, and I'm training him."

That startles him. He knows most of the older children here carry knives and are comfortable with them, but this sounds like something more. "How so?"

"He's taking the martial arts lessons, but most of the kids do." Jesus has seen those, and they're similar to what he offers when he's in residence at Hilltop, but he doesn't train children like Jamie does here. Perhaps he should consider it, if the parents are willing.

She continues. "I've been working with him on air rifles too. Gonna ask Shane about moving him up to firearms soon."

"Is he old enough?" He was an adult before learning to shoot was something he could do, but he knows of kids who hunted with their families while younger.

"He's actually older than I was when I started hunting with Tihu, so yeah, I think he is. And honestly, I know Shane's already been teaching Anaya."

"Honey? Please don't rush anything with him just for my sake."

She still has his hand and she squeezes it again. "I wouldn't. But he's smart and alert and responsible, all the things Tihu considered when I wanted to learn. I don't think it's a problem."

"Hilltop will eventually be more stable." Sooner than he ever expected, really, but like with all things, progress is easier with allies.

"Exactly." She's quiet for a long moment. "Don't make me have to tell my parents I'm moving to Virginia by taking too long."

He laughs, but he's not entirely sure she's not serious.

~*~ DC ~*~

Denise is glad the weather is warm even after dark, because it's nice out on her porch. This early in the year, they get warmth without mosquitoes or other bugs.

Olivia's relaxed in the wicker patio chair next to her. "I've got more space in my room at Barrington House, but this is such a cozy little place. Makes me realize why Jesus hangs on to staying in his trailer."

"The view is a little better here, I imagine. Some days, I forget the walls are out there." That was hard at Alexandria and near impossible at Hilltop. Only her morning jog reminds her here, when she's with the others on the well-worn path along the thicket interior.

"I can't believe the other group gave it up for a prison."

"I think they still needed to feel independent after everything that happened." Denise isn't sure she would be willing to leave her tiny apartment ever if she survived Terminus's downfall.

"I suppose I can see that. And it's not like they cut off contact." Unlike Denise, Olivia has actually seen the prison, since she rode along with Daryl's group yesterday.

"Jesus is still in contact with Alexandria, isn't he?"

"Yeah. With Aaron and Eric anyway. They meet up periodically while 'recruiting' and exchange information."

"Is everything going okay?" There are a few people Denise hopes are doing okay, at least.

"Better than it was, I think. Deanna will never truly come to terms that no government is ever coming to save her. But hopefully people remember they aren't the only ones established as a community now."

"Maybe in time they'll change like Hilltop did and take more control."

"I doubt it, but we can hope."

They fall quiet for a bit, listening to the frogs calling. Denise is a city girl by nature, but she likes the quiet nights here, where she can sometimes hear the livestock in the distance or even the river burbling by. She imagines it was a really nice place for the younger Dixons and Eldridges to grow up.

"How are your studies going? Better than going behind Pete's back?"

"A lot better. I think I would have had less anxiety in med school if I had people to study with."

Christopher seems to feel responsible for her being here, so he's always willing to help her. Even if most of her study mates are working on nursing, she's found their material actually helps reinforce concepts for her.

She smiles at Olivia. "I even helped deliver a baby." It's a blessing that the women of Homestead don't mind being part of a teaching experience. While she observed a birth in med school, catching a newborn is an entirely different experience.

"I'm glad you came here. The doctors at Hilltop are nice enough men, but you just look so happy here."

Denise supposes Olivia is right. It's been years since she felt this at peace with herself. She wonders if anyone from her previous life would even recognize her now.

Metamorphosis is intriguing in its human version.


	78. Virginia Visitors, Part 4

_**A/N: We are now caught up with Ao3, so chapter posting will be every few days instead of daily.**_

**April 16, 2011**

~*~ Olivia ~*~

Olivia hadn't woken up next to a man in a while even before the apocalypse. Her last relationship ended nearly a year before the sickness started, and the few forays into dating didn't extend to overnight stays.

She certainly didn't set out for it last night. Homestead's Friday night tradition of music and dance turned the community center first into something out of a teen romcom, with the teenagers enjoying themselves far more than those movie teens ever did. But at nine, the under sixteens went home and the vibe shifted toward the adults' enjoyment.

Enid left among a group of younger teens and seemed in good hands, so Olivia accepted the drink offered and expected an evening as a wallflower.

It didn't turn out quite like that. Once Christopher asked her to dance and established that she was a good dancer and enjoyed it, she didn't lack for partners. Most of them were taken, but she didn't mind.

After the third time one of the unavailable men passed her to dance with Christopher's brother Bryce, they both understood the matchmaking scheme. He sweetly offered to walk her home. She boldly offered an alternative.

She's still not sure where that side of her came from.

He's still asleep, spooned against her side with his left arm around her. It puts the wedding ring he still wears on display, but she disregards the widower's habit to gently activate the glow function on his watch.

"What time is it?" he mumbles.

Not still asleep then, or she woke him.

"About six. I should get back."

He slides his arm away, releasing her, but his hand stops on her hip. "You don't have to rush off."

She turns her head to get a good look at him. He's a handsome man, but he doesn't look much like his brother. He has darker skin and hair, with his eyes a wealth of color that makes it hard to settle on calling them green.

"Enid may wonder where I am."

"The kids were planning a big sleepover since y'all are leaving soon. Most of them will sleep past breakfast."

It reminds her he's responsible for a teenager of his own. It was hard to miss last night when he led her back to a family apartment where the children's bunk area is unmistakably decorated for a teen girl. "Is that where Audrey is?"

He nod, as his thumb strokes absently along the soft flesh of her hip. "Pisses Alaina off that I allow it, since there are boys there."

"Why do you call her Alaina?" Olivia met the woman and realized she wasn't the nicest of ladies, but her fondness for Christopher is sweet enough. He certainly seems to care for his mother.

"She's Christopher's mother, not mine."

Oh. That could explain a lot. "Is that why Audrey stays with you?"

"Mostly. She started out staying with Alaina, when housing was more overcrowded, but that wasn't a good long-term solution. Carol put me in the queue for when this opened up.

"My older sister didn't get along well with Alaina." He chuckles a little, a wry smile crossing his bearded features. "That's an understatement. Amber never forgave her for being the other woman who stole our daddy away."

"I could see where that could cause problems."

"It didn't help that my mama didn't have much of an idea on being a single mother to a boy and let Dad take custody of me when they divorced after Alaina got pregnant."

Damn. Poor Amber. She had her family split right down the middle. "How old were you?"

"Six. Amber was ten. Was the scandal of the town back then. Dad was the police chief. Knocking up the college girl babysitting his kids didn't go over well."

"Did he stay police chief?" In a small Southern town, a scandal like that could go either way.

"All the way til he died of a heart attack when I was sixteen. Amber offered for me to come live with her then, but most days Alaina and I are generally fond of each other. She's a decent woman, just with a prickly personality."

Olivia hasn't really met the woman, so she'll take his word for it. "Everyone always has more complicated family dynamics than I do. I was a late life baby to college professors."

"Only child then?"

"Yes. My parents passed within months of each other when I was almost thirty." They've reversed the dating process it seems, having all the usual first date conversation naked in bed the morning after.

His hand still on her hip doesn't indicate he's in any hurry for her to go. To test the theory, she rolls from her back to face him where he's laying on his right side. It gets her a better look at his pretty eyes too.

He resettles his hand on the other hip now, gaze flickering briefly down to exposed skin. She reaches out and traces the lines of the USMC-themed tattoo on his left pectoral, smiling as he shivers ever so slightly under her touch. She's always had a thing for good ink.

"You don't have to be so careful to avoid the other side," he says huskily.

It seemed like she should avoid touching the memorial tattoo he has on the right side of his chest. All of his other ink is stereotypically masculine, bold colors and mostly Marine themed.

But the tattoo she's now exploring is mostly pastels, with pink and purple musical notes dancing around the graceful teal ribbon intertwined with a treble clef. A date woven into the ribbon shows November, more than a year before.

"How?"

She doesn't need to expand on the question.

"Ovarian cancer. Was stage three already when they caught it, about a year after we got married. She fought it for two years."

No wonder he's still mourning. So little healthy time together. There's nothing to be said that's fitting. She traces the ribbon for a moment before looking back up at him.

He's actually smiling, just a little, and she wonders if she's passed a test of some sort by being willing to acknowledge his late wife's continued importance to him.

"Can make breakfast for us later, if you want."

It takes her a minute to realize why it would be later and she smiles. "Sure."

Then he nudges a knee to part hers and all thoughts of breakfast are gone.

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle's overseen the loading of the supplies they decided were easier to just transport to Hilltop. It's going to take a big enough group that Scout considered suspending the search. In the end, the council voted to sustain the search and cut back on supply runs until the travelers return.

The biggest debate he's had is whether or not to take a tractor or risk finding one. It's a heavy haul that will tank fuel mileage. Jesus knows where similar equipment can be found, but he can't guarantee it's in working order after nearly a year idle.

In the end, only the attachments are going, like the posthole digger and fence stretcher. Between himself and Honey, they should be able to get anything diesel up and running.

"Stop looking so anxious," Carol says, wrapping her arms around his waist. "They'll be fine here while we're gone."

"I'm having uncomfortable flashbacks of the last time I was separated from a large portion of my family."

"This time you'll be able to stay in communication. It's a completely different scenario."

He sighs, knowing she's right. The 'children' staying behind are all adults, too, and more than qualified to keep themselves and others safe. With Hershel going along to do a bit of veterinary assessment for their northern neighbors, they're going to be down to two council members at Homestead most of each week. Lenore's finally given in and taken a seat, although she swears it's a temporary position.

"Gonna do my best to keep it to two weeks."

"I know you will. We just need to be safe and don't rush it."

"You still okay with the kids going? I haven't told them yet." Still time for her to change her mind, after all. Cricket's more than able to keep an eye on the three youngest.

"It'll be good for them. Sophia's determined to follow in her sisters' footsteps, and I don't want her sheltered. Jazz could use a reminder he's competent outside the walls."

And it goes unsaid that Logan's going to want the extra time with Jesus.

He tosses the covered clipboard into the driver's seat of the truck he's taking and tugs her into a lingering kiss.

"It'll be good to have you up there if they make contact with Alexandria again. More authority, less mayhem," she muses, staying cuddled against him.

He laughs. "You think there would've been less mayhem with me present to them harboring an abuser?"

"Then? No. But with him more or less neutered? It'll be interesting to see how it plays out."

"That sort of creative twist is why I'm glad you're going along. I suspect they'll end up thinking whatever fix you came up with is all their own idea by the time you get done."

"Are you saying I'm manipulative?"

"When you think it's in someone's best interests, yes. It's a compliment, darlin', promise."

It's one of the things he admires about her, taking the skills learned managing an abuser and turning them to bettering their family and community.

"I'm just glad to go scope out things for myself. Got a feeling our ties to Hilltop aren't going to get any looser in coming years."

She doesn't elaborate, just smiles that knowing smile, and he decides he'll leave it be... for now.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

Jesus smiles in welcome as Carol sits next to him at the picnic table. He's been idly watching the warm-ups on the field, since even Honey's out there helping.

"Everything all loaded up?" he asks. They came for insulin. They're leaving with expansion capability for Hilltop.

"All but the livestock. We'll load them in the morning."

"The generosity you're displaying is going to mean a lot to Hilltop."

He and Olivia used the radio to bring the rest of their council into the loop. Michael Fisher is unsurprised, but these are the people who saved his life. The others agreed, but he doesn't think Gregory will believe until trucks pull into Hilltop.

"Just continue to grow a good community. There aren't enough of us left to be selfish anymore."

She studies him for a long moment, to the point he feels like squirming despite the fact that her expression is kind, almost motherly.

"People I love may live there one day. There's some selfish interest, if I'm honest."

He frowns, not sure what she means. "Logan?"

"That one's almost a given. We love him, but as soon as he's allowed to decide more of his future, he's going to spend at least part of it with you."

"I wanted him to have a better life, a family life, here." Even as an apprentice, it distresses him that Logan might separate from the care he gets as a Dixon.

"He'll have that. But that's also why he'll be pulling his own strings eventually, and probably sooner than the old world would allow. But he isn't the only one I want Hilltop safe for."

"Surely Honey's just teasing about moving to Virginia."

"I think that she's going to come to a point where she needs to be out of the nest to finish growing into the woman she wants to be. In the old life, she wouldn't still be living a stone's throw from her parents."

"You sound resigned to it."

"Perhaps I am. But having a stable community to be part of, that's what she'll need. And I would prefer her to be somewhere that I know there's at least one other person devoted to her."

"She would have Eugene if she immigrated."

"And as much as I admire the man's mind, he's never going to have the scope of the world that you do. More importantly, he lacks the charisma to shape reality where it needs to be."

He's not sure how to respond, so he watches the teens training with the children and tries to absorb it. He isn't really thinking of where his gaze goes the most until he feels a soft hand slide over his.

He startles, looking over at her.

"How old are you, exactly?" she asks.

That causes him to flush, because his carefully hidden intrigue didn't get past Carol. "I'll be twenty-two next month."

When people assumed he was older, because of the beard and the self-assurance he projected after arriving at Hilltop, he just let it ride. Carol's the first person to actually ask his age.

"That explains your willingness to accept Honey as competent, I suppose," she says. She gives his hand a little squeeze, her own gaze going across the field. "What were you doing, before?"

"Junior year of college. I got a scholarship and figured I'd better make the best of it." Not a lot of foster kids got a full ride to a place like George Washington, after all.

"What did you study?"

"Sociology."

From her smile, he thinks she figured on something similar. He hadn't decided on post-college, other than he was going to do something with kids like himself. Not every kid got the opportunities that he did.

"Carol?"

"Yes?"

"Why were you asking my age?" He's about ninety percent certain, but he also needs to know he hasn't done anything to offend Honey's mother.

"He likes you, and that's an unusual state for him." She still has his hand, but the contact seems to be intended to reassure, much like Honey's.

"He's always friendly to everyone." The statement is a little confusing.

"Friendly, yes. Being polite is as much a part of Jasper's nature as being outgoing is part of Honey's or pragmatic is part of Scout's. But the number of people he goes out of his way to spend time with is limited."

Jesus thinks it over, realizing that even with the non-related children that flock around Jazz, it's the kids who seek him out, not the other way around. But the teenager actually has actually sought out his company a few times.

"Is this about last night?"

He did stay at the community center past the younger ones leaving, but a half hour in, he was reminded that he's never really cared for that sort of socialization. He suspects there may have been an opportunity to not spend the night alone, but it simply didn't appeal.

He ended up leaving and heading back for the basement room, only to find it rather packed with youngsters watching a movie. Jazz vacated the couch to offer him the spot, but he didn't move far. As soon as Jesus sat and Logan squirmed into the space left between Jesus and Sophia, Jazz actually spent the rest of the movie leaned jointly against his legs and Sophia's.

"He fell asleep using you as a prop," Carol says softly. "And you looked pretty content with that."

"Carol, I wouldn't…" It's not even a sentence to complete. While he did notice Jazz's looks early in his visit, he likes to think it was no further than he did with noting Danny's looks back when Honey played gypsy or any other male in passing.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm not implying anything like that."

He meets her gaze and realizes she really isn't.

"All I'm pointing out is that you're one of his people now, and not in the same way as Shane or Eugene. Just take care with that, no matter what the future brings for it."

He frowns as she leaves him with a pat on his knee, and he's still frowning just a little when Honey and Eugene join him. She's sweaty from helping the kids warm up, grinning at first until she sees his expression.

"What's got you thinking so hard?"

"I think Carol just implied your brother has a crush on me?"

"Well, I thought he was only interested in girls, but maybe she knows something I don't."

Eugene clears his throat, drawing both their attention. "While you were traveling the Commonwealth of Virginia, Jasper sought my advice on a romantic matter. I suggested he might not be interested in girls, based on the evidence he presented to me at the time."

The idea that Eugene would be a source of advice for a romantic matter is a little odd to Jesus, but he supposes some questions are easier to ask to adjacent family than siblings sometimes.

Honey nudges Eugene with her elbow. "And what did he answer?"

The older man blushes a little at the reminder of the incomplete answer. "He indicated that gender was not a concern in such matters for him. He did not ask me to keep the conversation private, so I referred the issue to your sister as best to have further conversations with him."

"And Cricket would have told our parents. Huh."

Jesus supposes he's a safe enough crush for the teenager to have, especially with several states and the buffer of enough years between them that nothing will come of it.

He's not entirely sure he likes the analytical look Honey turns his way. It's not the normal soft affectionate expression she tends to wear when he's involved. "I already told Carol it's a non-issue."

That fades the shrewd look completely from her face. Unlike Carol, who turned comforting at this point in the conversation, Honey looks worried and hugs him close. "I would never think that of you, Paul," she says softly.

It's the reversion to his given name that really settles it for him that she didn't intend any harm. He thinks she's only used it twice before, once during a late night where he told her of his past history in group homes and another the day they left him behind him Virginia.

"What were you thinking then?" He leans into the hug, glancing briefly to see that Eugene seems unbothered by the fact that she's practically squeezing him in half.

"Mainly that I hate to wish you alone for another two or three years."

Oh. That particular math seems to imply that she likes the idea of her brother's crush. He decides to let the subject die though, because it's already weird enough. He doesn't want it to color his friendship with Jazz.

Instead, he just presses a kiss to her temple and then turns his attention back to the pre-game practices.

He's content as he is.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol rechecks her duffel, feeling both a little thrill and a little apprehension about the upcoming trip. The overly cautious part of her nature is trying to figure out why she's traveling as a pregnant woman with the world as it is. The part of her that decided to take charge of her life and contribute rather than be a burden reminds her that Michonne was doing supply runs until this week.

She's healthy and progressing well with the pregnancy, except for the need for afternoon naps. Those are easy enough to plan for, even on the road.

Besides, if she doesn't go, it means pulling Christopher off the search teams, as well as being separated from Merle and the younger half of their brood for weeks.

"You realize that we can probably scrounge up almost anything you don't remember to take along?"

Merle sounds amused, but she knows he worries too. She didn't miss that he's checked his own duffel and overseen the kids' packing too. Only Honey escaped oversight, due to her prior experience.

"I know, but I hate to be unprepared."

He slips his arms around her waist and kisses her shoulder, left bare by the thin straps of her nightgown. "Darlin', your worst unprepared day will still outdo just about anyone here. Relax. Get some rest. I know you're probably not driving and can nap on the way, but we've got variables."

She knows that. While Jesus brought his people down in an RV in three days, they're traveling north with live animals. Everyone wants to try to move even faster. Even with the soundproofing they've done, nothing's perfect and the animals need air flow.

"You really think we can do it in two days?"

"Based on Abraham and Jesus's assessment of the roads, yeah. A herd could throw a wrench in the works, but we've got the worst-case scenario plan there."

She hates that that plan is to abandon the animals, but depending on the size of the herd, they might still be able to save them. Their supply teams have taken down groups of fifty or sixty regularly enough without any special preparation.

They're taking far more than the initial half dozen or so that Jazz suggested when the idea began. Debate with the Hilltop council and their own reveal that with help to expand the secure area, they can take on the entire extra flock Jazz is willing to give.

They're going to be a bit of a Noah's arc on the other animals. Hilltop has chickens, but no other poultry, and only two goats plus their milk cow and heifer.

They can't do all that much about the cows already there, and no one's wanting to put less experienced farmers in charge of a bull, but they're sending a grown billy goat and the ram lamb. Combined with a pregnant cow, two pregnant goats, and a pair of the female Anatolian pups that are half-grown and mostly trained for sheep, they'll have a good start on their own herd and its guardians.

"I'm definitely not sad to see half of the geese go," she mutters. A total of two dozen poultry are leaving between the geese, ducks, and turkeys.

"You're just glad to see that one pest of a gander be ornery somewhere else." His habit of smacking the hell out of any intruders in the pasture has gotten him on everyone's list. They're recommending Hilltop keep him long enough to expand the flock of geese a few months and then make him a holiday dinner.

She lets him lure her toward bed. Everyone will be up early, because the animals need to be loaded before they can get on the road. As much as they hope it'll go smoothly, those used to how livestock balks at being put on trailers warn her it may end up a comedy of errors for a little while.

Merle lets her get settled before he laughs softly.

"What's so funny?"

"Just remembered Honey telling me about that damned tiger they have up at the Kingdom."

"No. I don't care if I have to duct tape him into a closet in one of the RVs, but Jasper Benjamin is inot/i petting a tiger."

Merle just laughs even more.

~*~ SW ~*~

"Gonna feel weird, sitting around home for a week," Shane remarks. He's glad of Scout's years of military service meaning that her packing for her time on search takes up very little of the hours left together.

She smiles at him from where she's tucking an updated Polaroid of the girls in her kit. "Like your team will sit still."

She's right, because he's already assigned work to all eleven of his people, team leaders included. Might be a little selfish that he's working a breakfast shift, giving him more of his day free to spend with the girls than he would normally get. The ladies shifting down to help on the farm don't seem to mind.

"A week of cooking, even for this many people, seems more vacation than not."

Being on the road, on constant alert for anything out of place, wears on the nerves. He's almost wishing they suspended the search entirely for a few weeks, to let folks recuperate more.

At the same time, he understands that crawling unknown in the back of her mind. It's how the deputies felt on one of the rare occasions King County had a murder or rape they didn't have a suspect for. Until you have the answers, the bad things are what you think of first.

She crawls onto the bed, but motions for him to roll over. It's become a bit of a tradition, the long sessions of massage before one of them leaves on the road. Sometimes it ends in sex, but more often, it's just a need to soak up all the contact they can.

Stretched out on his stomach, it lets his mind roam.

"Anaya seem more settled to you the last few days?"

"Yeah. Kind of like she purged what was lingering in her mind."

The test will be if she can manage to stay in her own bed this week, without any nightmares. Nightmares are rare when both parents are home, and she actually managed all the nights he's been home in her own bed so far.

"I'm going to try to take her, Abby, and Carl fishing this week." They actually have a pretty good place for it now, with the horse farm across the river putting fencing on both sides. The bridge they use for the farm trucks makes for a good fishing platform.

"Do a family fish fry, maybe?"

"Could. Start teaching her early enough, maybe Anaya won't set the kitchen on fire."

That earns him a slap on the ass cheek, but he just raises to his elbows to grin at her. There's a shift in her body language that tells him he's probably at the end of the massage he's enjoying, but he doesn't mind when he's rolled over for a kiss instead.

Loving his wife is one of his all-time favorite ways to relax for sleep.


	79. Sweet Dreams

**April 23, 2011**

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle proved correct that with rotating three drivers in each vehicle and the help of the waxing to full moon, they made the Virginia trip in less than two full days. The worst part of the trip was that Carol and most of the children rode separately, since she couldn't alternate as a driver for the livestock hauling semi.

He figured they were just as safe in an RV with Olivia and Enid, with the adult ladies and Jazz as drivers, but still, being separated even by a vehicle length bugged him in unknown territory. At least Honey ended up one of his co-drivers. Her ease with the big vehicle and its live cargo made him tease she missed her calling as a long-haul trucker.

They arrived at Hilltop less than twenty hours after they left Homestead, pulling up outside the walls not long after the community ate their breakfast. Electric sheep fencing and temporary corrals kept the animals inside the walls while everyone set into a construction project on a scale Hilltop hadn't seen since the beginning.

They're enclosing an additional forty acres around Hilltop to match the five acres inside the palisade and the ten weakly fenced cropland acres. The biggest problem is that the property nestles right up into a wooded area, so after he surveyed it, they're building a somewhat circular fence around the existing location.

It'll take the Hilltop residents a while to fell the trees that end up inside the fence his people are laying out, but at least they'll have safe areas for their livestock, expanded crops, and new homes if need be.

One of the locals remembering the company a few towns over that made precast concrete walls changes his plans from shipping container walls to the concrete. It's not going to be a pretty wall, sunce they're using pieces from different orders, but sixteen feet high concrete means no walkers will breach.

"Gonna tell you, I'm glad you've done these before," Earl says as the crews all meet back at the trucks to go home as the light fades.

He's running the installation, with a crew running far enough ahead on footings that they'll easily cure in time. Honey spearheading the retrieval crews for additional panels.

And his gorgeous wife is climbing down from her mobile lookout post along with Sophia. The ladies are superb lookouts with rifles in hand.

"Goes faster when there's no overtime being paid out," he jokes. It's true enough. With cost not an issue and speed a necessity, they're putting in twelve-hour shifts.

"Still, it's a resource we couldn't use without training. Think my wife is about beside herself getting to expand the fields safely."

Merle glances at the fields already in place and nods. The fencing around them is more to give any workers time to run for the gates than to keep the dead out.

"If someone can keep lookout, she can probably start her tilling."

Poor Tammy put in ten acres with a regular garden tiller. Now she's got something a little better and faster. Jesus's tractor equipment place is a treasure trove of working equipment.

Earl nods and looks like he's going to walk back to the palisade, which Merle thinks sounds like a good idea. Carol and Sophia join him while others drive the two work trucks back.

"How far have we gone, Daddy?"

"About a quarter of a mile." And that in two days putting up concrete panels, so he's optimistic of finishing the enclosure in ten days.

"And when we're done, we'll see the other communities?"

"Maybe. Both of them are talking about sending folks to visit." He's hoping they follow through on that, but they did bring Hershel along for a reason. Can't give checkups to the animals without going on site.

That leaves Alexandria as a problem to be resolved, though.

They've reached the gate, waving at the cheerful folks on duty. Their crew is the last to return, and the others are gathered around the outdoor kitchen setup between their two RVs. With seventeen Homesteaders here, not everyone sleeps in the two RVs, but the weather's held up well enough for their people to spread into tents.

The stew Carol put into a couple of crockpots is already being served around, along with enough pita bread for a small army. Based on the dusting of flour along Jazz's sleeve, he's the one who cooked up the dough Carol left rising.

"Paddocks are looking good," Merle notes.

Jazz just smiles. He and Enid recruited a couple of the younger teenagers to help and they have been making good progress. The two-dozen sheep they brought will have a nice rotational grazing system set up by the time they leave, and Hilltop a plan to expand it when the lambs come at the end of July.

"Gonna eventually need to send someone to get the water troughs and irrigation equipment," the teenager notes.

Merle can almost see Carol making the mental note. This isn't her domain, but she's friends with Olivia, and it is the quartermaster's domain. He's confident it'll get organized between the two women.

"Critters doing alright in the smaller pens?" Merle asks Hershel.

The older man nods. "They're all quite happy. The livestock they had here already is doing well, so we should be good until the outer wall is finished to keep them in the palisade."

"How are lessons on training the human docs to treat the animals going?"

"Relatively well. Harlan was already looking after them the best he could with limited information. I gave him what texts we could spare from the veterinary school raid, but the communities here need to plan a trip to Blacksburg to raid their own veterinary school."

"That the only campus?"

"There's two more, but one's equine and the last on the other side of DC in Maryland. Outside of that, Raleigh, but I'm not sure I want to recommend a group take on an unknown large city like that after the state Atlanta was in."

"And no way of knowing if there are other survivors around, as big as North Carolina is."

"Always weird to realize all the medical schools out there, but so few veterinary," Carol adds. "We got lucky to be in a state with one."

"And that it was in Athens and not Savannah," Merle remarks. They needed the vet stuff early on. With the search for the man who ordered the Vatos slaughtered, they still haven't pushed far toward the Atlantic in their home state.

~*~ DD ~*~

Daryl sings softly as he turns slowly in the shower to bring Judith in and out of the warm water. She's bathed already, but every time he rotates her back into the water, she makes a gaspy coo that he's pretty sure is her laughing.

"Does it tickle or you just that happy about being in the water?" He gives her a bright smile, which she returns, babbling a series of nonsense sounds.

He rotates her back into the water, and this time, her newly found giggle has an echo. He looks back over his shoulder to see Lori in the bathroom doorway.

"Is she really laughing?"

He nods. "Think so. She's definitely a happy girl right now."

Judith kicks and wiggles, head arching to try to locate her mother. When he turns to angle so she can see, Lori comes up to the glass door. She makes an exaggeratingly happy face and Judith giggles.

"She ready to dry off?"

At his affirmative answer, Lori moves the curtain back and wraps the baby in a fluffy towel when he passes her out. He moves to shampoo his hair, but realizes as he finishes rinsing that they haven't left the bathroom yet.

Judith's content to be cuddled to Lori's chest, which means Lori's leaning against the sink and watching him shower.

"Need me to hurry up?" He's blinking through the water dripping off his bangs, which reminds him he needs to get her to cut his hair again soon.

"Not at all. In fact, if it wasn't for leaving her undiapered, I wouldn't mind watching til you ran out of hot water."

Ah. Distracted by the baby laughing and the showr, he didn't clue in there as fast he should. "Maybe next time she's next door for the night."

Since the first overnight visit, they've worked out a pattern of shared nights between the parents. Whichever of Scout or Shane is home that week takes her for the night after the family supper on Monday night and again on Friday.

Most of the time Abby goes too, so they make a point of offering for Anaya to stay with them on Saturday nights. Tonight is the first night since the search trips began that she's accepted.

Lori just gives him one of those slow, promising smiles that makes him wonder how in hell things fizzled out in her first marriage.

"Gonna get her nursed and settled. Girls are not quite asleep, so you should get in a goodnight if you hurry."

"A'right." She leaves the bathroom and he sets about finishing his own clean up. Abby gets cranky if she falls asleep before he bids her goodnight.

By the time he's dry, dressed, and checked in on the girls and Carl, Lori's almost finished nursing the baby to sleep.

He sits on the bed next to them, gently smoothing Judith's curls. The longer her dark hair gets, the more it seems to take on Shane's curls. Her eyes are darkening, slowly but surely, with enough change around the pupil now to give an almost multicolored effect.

"Think her eyes are going to be as dark as yours."

"Was kind of hoping they might stay blue, like Carl's did, but I guess my odds were higher there." She smiles a little wistfully.

"I remember Merle kept expecting one of the kids to turn up with brown eyes, but it never happened."

"Lilliana's eyes were brown then?"

Daryl nods. "Nana Josefa's eyes were brown, but Grandpa Robert's were blue. His daddy was a redheaded Irishman from Pittsburgh. Abby was the first time I ever saw a baby's eyes change color."

Judith's drowsy now and not really nursing, so he takes her and settles her on his shoulder while Lori pumps the side the baby didn't nurse from.

They've been lucky so far that all the new mothers have managed to nurse, but everyone's wary of the fact that most formula is expired or close. The mothers that can are putting away any excess they can manage. In their case, it helps the co-parenting, too.

He gets the baby tucked into the bedside co-sleeper around the time Lori's back from stashing the milk and cleaning the pump.

She pulls him into a lingering kiss that he enjoys and she's smiling when they finally draw apart.

"What's the smile for?" he asks, curious.

"Just being reminded how much you have a soft spot for little ones. Even the other babies clamor for your attention."

He just returns her smile, a little abashedly. "Like kids better than adults."

"Well, long as you keep liking me best if adults, I'm fine with that."

He laughs at her smirk and nudges her toward the bed. His wife is always going to have that particular honor.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

Jesus smiles a little as he spies Jazz sitting on his ratty old couch. The teenager's eyes are closed, earbuds firmly in place. His fingers are twitching, playing along to the music on the knees of his jeans.

It didn't faze Logan, who trotted by without any interruption to take his turn in Jesus's shower. It's dark outside now, and he spent an enjoyable evening among the visitors.

Jazz actually disappeared at least an hour ago and never came back after his shower. He guesses the teenager needs some downtime he normally gets with his milking rounds. The big guy that helps him out back at Homestead trends toward the quiet end of the spectrum.

Hoping to leave Jazz undisturbed for as long as he needs it, he directs Oso down the hall and follows him. The big dog is now right at eighty pounds and Hershel estimates him to likely be fully grown now that he's slightly larger than both parents.

Oso curls onto the side of the bed that will put him at Logan's feet. They're missing the last of their human trio, with Honey's boyfriend along this trip. But the dog seems happy enough to have Logan back for a little while.

He kicks his boots off and relaxes with a book, listening idly as the shower shuts off. He can hear Logan humming as he dries and dresses. It's a new habit, one he's actually picked up from Jazz.

He listens to see if he recognizes the song, which is why he notices when the sound moves the wrong way down the hall. He puts his book aside and goes to intercept the boy.

It's too late, but Jazz is smiling as Logan sits next to him on the couch. It's easy to forget that Logan's age seems to exempt him into Jazz's comfort zone.

"What are you listening to tonight?" the boy asks. Jazz passes him the earbuds and music player, which Jesus notices is a defunct cell phone.

When Jazz notices his own curiosity, he shrugs. "Classical music tonight. Vivaldi. Easier for him to listen than explain."

"Probably true. Most kids his age haven't had a lot of classical exposure."

"I'll teach him." Jazz's fond smile toward where Logan is swaying along with the music tells Jesus that once again, he made the right choice in sending Logan to the Dixons.

"I don't think I remember which one is Vivaldi. My classical music education consists of one world music class for my degree back in my sophomore year. I think I could recognize Bach or Beethoven, maybe."

It gets him a half-smile from Jazz. "Most people know them, even if not by name. When he's done, you can listen, if you like. It's one of his oboe pieces, not the more popular work, though."

He recalls vaguely that Jazz plays oboe, as well as guitar, although he hasn't seen him play. "That sounds like a plan."

It's how he ends up listening to music with Jazz once Logan trots off to bed. Since music won't keep him from sleeping, they forego the headphones.

It puts them awake an hour past when they should, going through a list of composers he vaguely remembers from college. If his professor was as animated as Jazz in enjoying the music lesson, he might have retained more.

They both startle at the time. Jazz groans. "Honey's gonna be pissed if I wake her."

Remembering the teenager is sharing a tent with his sibling, Eugene, and Elias, Jesus feels a little guilty. "I would offer you the couch, but you would have to become a pretzel. How about you go crash with Logan and I'll sleep out here?"

"Really?" The grateful look makes him wonder if the crowded tent makes Jazz uncomfortable.

He nods and Jazz stands and stretches with a yawn. He hands Jesus the phone with the headphones plugged back in. "In case you wanted to still listen."

Once he's seen Jazz settled in and fetched a blanket, he ends up losing another hour of sleep browsing through the other music on the phone. It feels like he's been handed a key insight into the younger male's personality, and he falls asleep feeling content at the trust.

~*~ Olivia ~*~

Olivia didn't expect the first night with Bryce to turn into a second, but it did. When the man ended up on the teams going north, she mustered her newly found boldness and offered for him to share her room at Hilltop in Barrington House.

His continued interest is causing a few envious glances her way, but she's reveling in it. She knows there's little long-term future in it with their roles at separate communities, so she's enjoying it whilenit lasts.

He's stretched out on his belly on her bed, watching idly aa she changes for bed. An amused smile crosses his face.

"Is that a before or after type of choice?"

She glances at the prancing unicorns on her nightshirt and laughs. "After. I didn't have much in the way of pajamas packed when I evacuated out of DC."

"Good. You didn't strike me as the unicorn type of woman."

"Are you anti-unicorn?" she teases.

"If someone's over the age of sixteen, yeah."

She just smiles as she joins him. The carefree night clothing hasn't come up before because they end up going from her fully clothed to sleeping naked. But their earlier makeout session ended with amused yawns.

It's been a long week for both of them. She's coordinating everything between Hilltop and their volunteer builders. He's part of the crew laying in the footers for the wall.

He rolls to spoon against her side, nuzzling sleepily at her shoulder. His beard tickles a little and incites a tired giggle. She reaches over to card her fingers through the facial hair.

"Did you have the beard before?" She's normally a sucker for a clean-shaven man, but it's hard to imagine Bryce without the dark, well-groomed beard

"Nah. Against department regs. Could have a moustache, but that's not a look I favor."

She tries to imagine him with just the mustache and has to agree. "If I remember right from Homestead, most of the former cops are bearded now."

He yawns, dislodging her hand, but catches it to kiss the palm before setting it on her belly with his own hand still covering it.

"We're obvious in our rebellion, huh? But you're right. I think Shane's the only exception." He smiles a little. "It bother you?"

"Not at all. It's softer than I thought it would be." That's something she only really figured out the reason behind here at Hilltop. His morning routine might not include regular shaving, but he's given her curiosity full reign by letting her learn to apply the beard oil that keeps it so silky.

"I think I might feel half-naked without it now.". He yawns again, and his eyes drift closed.

She's amused to see he falls asleep as fast without sex as after it. It's probably a habit picked up between his military service and polce work.

She yawns heavily herself and reminds herself dawn comes damned early, and facing Gregory of low sleep is a formula for disaster.

She'll miss Bryce when he's actually gone.

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane's exhausted in all the best ways. With their duties and Anaya's increased need for attention, there hasn't been a lot of alone time for them lately. They celebrated their child free night tonight with enthusiasm.

He tries to will himself to go get a wash cloth to clean them both up, but his body's telling him that pushing it as hard as his college days is too much to ask at his age.

He glances over to his wife, only to realize she's not moving anytime soon either as she snores just the tiniest bit. That makes him grin and finally work himself upright.

Scout doesn't even wake to the gentle movement of the warm cloth. He can't resist a kiss on the sensitive skin along her unscarred shoulder, breathing in the scent of her.

He makes a return trip to the bathroom and catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. She's left little love bites along his chest that remind him of their first night together. He considers teasing her about warning Rick off, since his former partner is likely the only one to see them this week.

He pads back to their bedroom, navigating the dark cabin with easy familiarity. Scout's moved in her sleep, obviously cold now. He disentangles the bedding from where it was shoved out of their way and gets the sheet and a soft blanket tucked around her.

She's not as deeply asleep as he assumed, because when he lays down and scoots close as little spoon to her, she wraps around him with deft movements. There's no mistaking the hug.

"Didn't mean to wake you."

"It's fine," she mumbles, pressing a kiss against his bare shoulder. "Be safe out there this week. It's making my skin crawl, the longer we go with no sign."

"I'm hoping his luck ran out, but I doubt we'll find a ghost town."

They've found evidence of survivors who made it past the outbreak, but not later challenges. So far, none of them appear to be ended by a larger group, not with supplies left behind.

"I honestly expected more people to be holed up here and there. It's not like Georgia isn't chock full of people with skills to get by. If Virginia managed four communities, surely there are more here."

"Took the Virginians long enough to find each other. Just got to be patient."

"If we haven't found him by the end of summer, I think we shift elsewhere to finding general survivors and supplies."

"Like the coast?"

"Yeah. I imagine Savannah is going to be a smorgasbord if there's no survivors there. Maybe poke around South Carolina."

He mulls it over. A fruitless search will drag on their morale over time. Finding the two pockets of survivors helps, but the extra care in searching for a boogyman will wear thin.

"Sounds good to me. Need to concentrate on the positive."

His agreement gets him another kiss to his shoulder, and he wonders how long she's been considering it before speaking up.

"Love you, baby. Get some sleep."

She returns the affection and settles back to sleep. If her grip is just a little too tight as he follows her, he can live with that aspect of her worry.

~*~ CP ~*~

"I think I know who one of the potential fathers are with Andrea's baby."

"And how did you deduce that?"

Merle looks curious in the dim light of the RV bedroom. Sophia's asleep in the overhead bunk up front, while Enid's continued the two girls' friendship by bunking on the RV sofa. Carol suspects some of that is to give Olivia privacy.

"Harlan asked about her when I went over to the infirmary after dinner with Eugene to see how Tina's still tolerating the insulin. His brother made a remark that implied a stronger interest."

"And did you ferret out any special information?"

"Amazing what you can find out in a random conversation about emergency supplies and my own pregnancy. I know his blood type now, and that he's never been married. His brother's twice divorced."

"That reminds me. Will you consider him doing a check-up while we're here? I trust our people, but if we've got access to an obstetrician, we should take advantage."

"Could make for a good lesson for his assistant with how to use the ultrasound machine, if we want another peek."

She does. Being pregnant again, this time a happy, planned event, makes her want to constantly peek in on their growing baby.

"Long as it's safe, might as well."

She can hear the fatigue in his voice. Standing watch the way she does is tiring. She and Sophia took out a dozen wandering walkers today, drawn by the sound of the equipment. She can only imagine how much the work crews are zapped on energy.

She kisses him tenderly and smooths back his curls. He responds with a gentle stroke across her belly, where the barest hint of change is beginning for her waistline.

The quiet "G'night, peanut" makes her love him just that much fiercer.


	80. Pink vs Blue

**April 29, 2011**

~*~ DC ~*~

"I suppose it's a silly question to ask if you're excited," Denise remarks. She's got the ultrasound machine turned on and can't help smiling that she's been asked to do Cricket's ultrasound as part of her cross-training.

Christian is in Scout's arms as the eldest Dixon daughter watches over her sister-in-law's shoulder. Tara's firmly by her wife's side.

"I'm almost tempted to say we don't want to know gender, but I suspect it'll be hard for me to miss." Cricket's belly is unmistakably rounded now, at least with her clothing adjusted.

"That is a disadvantage of training me with your ultrasound." Denise begins to take measurements one by one, remembering the text she studied as well as the two earlier ultrasounds already done. She's a little sad that they don't have the choice, and it must show.

"If we really wanted a mystery, we would've waited for Carol to be home," Tara soothes.

She flashes the younger woman a smile and looks to Cricket for approval as she prints out the required measurement screens for the medical file. She prints out a few keepsakes too, before hesitating with the wand.

"Anyone want to guess?"

They all laugh when Cricket and Tara say "boy" in unison. Everyone looks to Scout, who smiles.

"Girl. Christian needs a baby sister."

There's a fond look between the sisters. While Denise knows her friend jokes about middle child syndrome with the closeness of her siblings on either side to each other, she thinks Cricket and Scout downplay their actual closeness.

She settles the wand into place, and baby Dixon cooperates easily with determining the gender.

"It seems big sister got this one right," she says, watching as the mothers-to-be embrace, giggling and kissing.

It's a sweet and intimate moment, which makes Denise look away. It's why she notices Scout's wistful expression. She supposes moments like this will always be bittersweet for the other woman.

She's not sure she would have the courage to sit through an ultrasound if their roles were reversed.

There's a glimmer of tears there that Scout blinks away even as she gives Denise a half-smile. She shifts Christian in her arms and places a kiss on the fifteen-month-old's cheek. He returns the gesture sloppily, making his aunt laugh.

"Any names you can share yet?" Denise asks as the mothers' emotions calm down.

"Nope, those are top secret." Cricket smirks at her sister.

"As long as my name isn't on that secret list, you keep mum all you like."

Tara laughs. "Might be time to reclaim the name for the South, you know."

Denise looks between them curiously, wondering if Scout's given name is that bad.

Scout actually has pity on her. "It's Salome."

That makes sense. Not exactly a traditional Southern name, unlike her siblings' names.

"Nothing to say they couldn't use Scout," she suggests.

That sends everyone into unique name ideas while Denise finishes up the ultrasound. It's nice to be part of something so joyful.

~*~ GR ~*~

Glenn's half-tempted to swat Cricket, who can't seem to sit still but hasn't confessed her baby information yet.

"C'mon, you're gonna make the poor guy's head explode. You know Glenn doesn't do patient curiosity well."

"Hey!" Glenn tries to be offended at Maggie's teasing words, but she's not exactly wrong.

"Christian is going to have a little sister."

He sweeps Cricket into a hug. Maggie laughs, but then groans.

"Bladder's too full for waiting much."

It gets Glenn's friend back into doctor mode, and Cricket gets Maggie settled on the hospital bed doubling as the exam table. Beth perches on one side of Maggie's bed, him on the others.

"If it's too full, you may have to try to relieve some pressure."

"Oh, God, don't even begin to ask me that," Maggie groans. She gets her clothing adjusted as Cricket squirts the ultrasound goop onto Maggie's rounded belly.

Fully dressed, Glenn wouldn't know Cricket and Maggie have the same due date. His wife's baby bump is unmistakable already. Cricket doesn't even look like she's gained weight. She's explained it to her competitive athletics background.

He likes the evidence of their baby growing, and Maggie gets that little smile she wears when the baby moves. Maybe it's the shiny gel or just luck of viewing bare belly at the right time, bit he can see a visible thump to the left of his wife's belly button.

"Was that the baby?" he asks. He hasn't felt the movement yet, so he's anxious that he didn't hallucinate seeing that.

Maggie glances down and so does Cricket. Cricket nudges Maggie just a little with the wand and as soon as she moves it, the thump happens again.

"Holy crap, it really was." He puts a hand out, not quite touching. Maggie grabs it and presses it to her belly.

He's getting goop all over his fingers but he doesn't care. Beneath his fingers is the distinct movement of his unborn child.

If he's grinning as big as Maggie, Cricket, and Beth, it might explain why his face almost hurts.

It takes a few minutes, including Beth getting a chance to feel the baby move, but they finally get back to the ultrasound. Cricket applies the ultrasound gel again and first they hear the heartbeat. It's strong and steady, evidence of the baby's continued good health.

Their baby is sucking its thumb on the image and it is the cutest thing he's ever seen.

"Everything is measuring right on track for the due date," Cricket comments. "Beth? You want to give it a try?"

Beth's done ultrasounds on animals on the property under her father's guidance. She jumps at the chance to use her sister as a guinea pig. Despite her earlier protests of a full bladder, Glenn notices Maggie doesn't mention it at all during Beth's lesson.

Cricket even lets Beth make the gender assessment. "Best guess?"

Glenn's torn between anticipation about knowing and amusement at Beth's determined expression as she stares at the screen.

"Boy." The blonde teenager looks to see if Cricket will confirm it and she nods.

"We're having a boy, Glenn."

"Yeah, we are." He kisses his wife, staying close and breathing in the lovely scent of her as they smile like crazy people at each other.

After their guess that the odds were in favor of a girl, it's unexpected.

He'll just have to learn to be an entirely different type of doctor than his father was.

~*~ AF ~*~

"Well, I'm guessing your offspring is either shy or ornery."

Abraham laughs, watching as every attempt Cricket makes to distinguish the baby's gender is thwarted. Even getting the measurements is a tough task, with the baby's activity level.

Michonne arches a brow at him. "I suspect ornery."

Her belly keeps surging with the baby's movements. It's tiny movements now, so he can only imagine what Michonne will look like when the baby's even larger and still this active.

"I've seen you move with that sword, woman. Baby's just taking after Mama."

"Try talking again, Abraham." Cricket is looking at the screen, and he doesn't know what she's up to, but what the hell.

"I'm just saying, that kiddo is getting a double dose of DNA from people who don't sit idle and twiddle their thumbs. 'Course sitting still on someone else's whim ain't part of today's agenda."

Michonne reaches out to take his hand, nodding for him to continue when he pauses.

That's when he spots the reason. When he starts talking again, the baby calms. He snags the chair and drops into it.

"Fine, if you gotta hear Daddy's voice to calm your little ass down for the doctor, Daddy can certainly talk."

The smothered laugh from Michonne makes him glance up. He huffs at her and keeps talking, mostly nonsense, but who cares?

"Got everything. Hopefully that little trick works on a newborn as much as it does now." Cricket's smiling and Michonne's just staring at the screen, where the baby's returned to moving.

"You got a glimpse, didn't you?" He was too fascinated by the phenomenon of the baby already responding to his voice to watch the screen. He and Michonne don't even live together.

"Our daughter is not going to be dressed in frills and pink."

"I'm partial to red," he says softly, just marveling in the baby moving blissfully on the screen.

Another daughter. Christ, Becca and AJ would have loved a baby sister.

~*~ MD ~*~

"How much longer on the outer fence?" Olivia asks as she falls into step by Merle as he returns from inspecting the area the gate will be installed in. "Still about three more days?"

"Yeah. Most of the third day will be connecting to the gate. Footings crew is done as of today if you need supply runners."

"Hershel and Tammy recommended we put in a greenhouse or two. Since the paddocks are done, Jazz says he can do the framing."

"He get you a list of what he needs? He's helped on enough of ours to solo a project like that."

She nods, indicating a piece of paper in the notebook ahe carries. "Enough to do two, and he says Honey can draw up plans for us to follow."

"She should be able to." For something larger or a home, he would insist on assessing them, but it'll be good for both of them to gear the project without him.

They've reached the original Hilltop gates, passing through with greetings to the guards. Gage is working on installing cameras, but he suspects it will take Hilltop a while to give up this final human standpoint.

Carol's headed their way, looking excited. Based on the time, he figures she's just sat in on the evening check-in with Homestead.

"So? What's the news?"

"Two girls, one boy." She steps in for an enthusiastic hug.

"And which is which, darlin'?" Not that it really matters, but he's curious as hell.

"Maggie's having the boy."

Merle laughs, drawing attention. Trust Glenn, with a lifetime of sisters, to be the one with a boy on the way. He doubts it'll baffle the young man as much as having a girl did him.

He also wonders how Abraham is handling the further reality of his fatherhood. As crazy as it made him thinking his kids were lost, he's glad his own new little one still has its brothers and sisters.

Carol smiles. "Oh! The Kingdom radioed in that representatives will be here around the time we get the gate done, just like Solomons Island. That way everyone can get on the same page about Alexandria."

"And send their own representative in the re-contact." Olivia looks pleased with the idea, and Merle's glad the woman's not shy about travel. Having her along when they tackle the errant neighbor will be the sort of insight they need, and it keeps the Alexandria recruiters from being the only source.

"I told Homestead we would need at least another week up here, after the wall is finished."

He agrees there. Right now, Solomons Island doesn't need a veterinary visit, but The Kingdom does and perhaps Alexandria.

"Is Gregory behaving?" Olivia asks.

Carol just smiles that sly smile he loves so much. "He is no longer opposing Bertie's request to raid the school nearby and set up a classroom. Something about not wanting the children to grow up as uneducated heathens."

He suspects the wording is Carol's, actually. She can pull off distressed PTA lady with an ease that makes him think they should add live plays to Homestead's entertainment.

"Do I want to know how much you fluttered your eyelashes at him?"

Gregory hasn't attempted to pursue Carol like he did Andrea, but seems to cringe like a naughty schoolboy whenever she's around. Merle's starting to think she reminds the former leader of his mother, or something similar.

All it seems to take is a disappointed look or a distressed sigh, and the man's usually agreeing to whatever Carol's finagling. He thinks the Hilltop Council will miss her when they go home.

~*~ DD ~*~

"You're looking awful thoughtful out here."

Daryl grins a little when Rick startles. He and Rosita joined them for a game night after supper. After Rick stepped out to talk to Shane as his best friend and Scout headed to their cabin with the kids, Daryl realized he didn't come back in.

"Needed to talk to Shane about something. They waiting on me?"

"Nah. Ladies are still giggling about new babies." Carl's not home yet, up at Audrey's, who has Christopher and Tim filling in as her guardians with Bryce in Virginia.

"The girls are both calling me Uncle Rick now." Rick shifts against the porch rail, staring out into the moonlit lane between then planned cabin rows.

"That a problem?" He knows Anaya designating Rick as an uncle is logical, but when Abby picked up the habit this week, it seemed to suit.

"No. Just wasn't sure if that's what you'd want for Abby."

Daryl shrugs. "You consider her family?"

"She's Carl's sister, just like Judith, so yeah. She's a good kid. Hell, I think she likes me better than Carl does, some days."

"Difference between eleven and thirteen." Daryl smirks at Rick, who gives him a sheepish grin. "Carl's favorite person is gonna be Audrey, followed by his sisters, by our good luck, then parents."

"Sounds like you remember that age better than I do."

"If it were only my memory, maybe I wouldn't. But I've seen the pattern with all of Merle's girls." Daryl doesn't clarify that it's only the girls he learned that from. Whether it was the head injury or natural inclination, puberty never hit him the way it seemed to do to his peers.

"I do seem to remember being half-abandoned when Shane first started turning the girls' heads. I guess it's easy to just think Carl's got other preferences in a father figure now."

That makes Daryl step forward and bump his shoulder into Rick's. He's closer to Shane, by virtue of a determination to learn all he can about Scout's husband. But Rick's his friend too.

"That's not the kinda comparison you should be making on yourself."

"Wasn't around enough when he was younger."

"And now you're around as much as he needs. It's not like the old world, where parents ended up as islands struggling with job and family."

Rick looks like he's thinking it over, at least, so Daryl continues. "I haven't gone overboard in spending time with him, have I? Just don't want him to feel like he's not a part of everything."

"God no. I can't object to any of the time you've spent with him. All of this change should have ended in a pissed off teenager and instead he's the happiest I've ever seen him."

"Gotta remember you're a part of that too. Maybe quit staring at that lot we reserved for you and build a place. He might like a refuge that's not full of girls from time to time."

Rick laughs. "And take your only ally among the females at home?"

"Grimes, it doesn't feel like home if I'm not outnumbered three to one." Daryl studies the orange flagged markers on Rick's future building site. "We still have some kits available, you know."

"Not sure Rosita is ready for that kind of commitment to me."

"Gonna tell you the same thing I was told when I was dithering about Lori. She's just waiting on you to catch up to the idea it's for the long haul."

"You think so?"

"I know it's hard to see when you're the center of someone's world when it's not your kid, but yeah. She eyes you so intently I'm surprised she hasn't just tugged you in front of the community for vows yet."

"She's going to want a baby, and that might not be possible."

"You already know blood doesn't make family, not as close as you are to Shane. If it's not possible, find a donor. I'm sure Cricket will be happy to go into excruciating detail on that process."

"I'd ask if wouldn't that be weird, but that's a stupid question to pose to you."

"The only important thing is how much I love all three of them without a damn bit of biology involved. Can't see it being any more intense just because of shared genetics."

"I'm glad Lori has you." He's smiling that bright smile usually reserved for Shane or Carl now.

"As complicated as it is, I can't change a thing." He feels the now familiar surge of gratitude at his good luck. "Think they've noticed us missing now."

Through the windows, he can see they have an audience.

"C'mon. Better get back inside before they decide we're playing charades next."

Laughing, Daryl follows him inside. He just hopes Rick discards those final doubts. Rosita's good for him, and they all want to see Rick happy.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

It's become a habit for Jazz to hide out in Jesus's trailer after his shower. The teenager brought his sleeping bag and gear after the first night he stayed over. Figuring Jazz didn't want to be the third wheel in his family tent, Jesus just motioned to the corner and let him stash his things.

He did swing by to talk to Carol. Jazz doesn't make a point of the crush she indicates he has, showing no evidence Jesus would see as complicating their friendship while the six-year age difference is still an issue. All that happened there was a motherly hug.

Tonight, Jazz is reading when he returns to put Logan to bed. He looks up amd smiles, but returns to the book. Jesus recognizes it as one of his own.

While Logan showers, he busies himself woth a few household chores. It's going to be echoingly empty when they leave.

Aftee the ritual of Jazz choosing a song for Logan to listen to, the boy's off to bed and he's considering it himself.

"Paul?"

That gets his attention and he notices Jazz has put a bookmark in the borrowed novel. "Yeah?"

"Can I go on the supply run tomorrow for the greenhouse?"

"If it's good with your parents, sure." He's got zero problem having the teenager at his back. He's as self-sufficient and competent as his sisters. "But you don't have to."

"I know, but I want to." He's running at the cover of the book, looking uncomfortable.

"Is someone here making you feel unwelcome?" It would be a shock, since Jazz seems as popular among Hilltop's population as back home.

"It's not her fault."

"Jazz?" He doesn't like the sound of that.

"Enid likes me."

Ah. He supposes a crush from the younger girl was probably inevitable with the time spent together. "Is she doing anything she shouldn't?"

Jazz shakes his head. "Not like that. Some girls think they can get away with pushing things, but that's not Enid. I just think maybe some time apart is good."

"Probably. I can have a talk with her, if you like."

"Not yet. It would embarrass her."

Jesus nods and starts down the hall before remembering something he's been meaning to ask. "Why do you always call me Paul?"

He honestly rarely even thinks of himself as Paul anymore, so he's curious.

It might be the first time he's seen mischief in Jazz's expression. "Do you know what Paul means?"

He honestly doesn't know, so he shakes his head. He's never been particularly attached to a name given to him by people who couldn't or didn't care for him.

"One meaning is humble, but the other is small."

That explains the mischief. "We can't all be giants, you know. And anyone looks small next to you."

"I didn't say it was a bad thing." He's quiet for a minute. "I would rather be your height. It makes me conspicuous."

Jesus can't imagine being overly tall is any more convenient than being under average height, so he understands. Staying in close quarters as long as they have, at Homestead and here, he's seen how Jazz carefully crafts himself to appear younger in the same way Jesus opts for older.

He doesn't think he could ever return to the careful morning shaving Jazz does. But even scruff changes the mental image of his age.

"Jazz? No one's ever crossed the wrong lines with you, have they?"

The fact that he doesn't answer quickly brings Jesus all the way back to the couch. At his alarmed expression, Jazz actually reaches out and pats his arm.

"Not like you're thinking. Just that girls think guys won't turn down a kiss."

"And unlike a girl, you can't punch someone for it."

The fact that Jazz laughs is a relief. Jesus doesn't like the idea that someone with Jazz's touch issues was forced into an uninvited kiss, but he seems to be taking it in stride.

"Honey did punch her."

He can picture that, big sister coming in like an avenging fury. "Good."

The teenager's side eye to his sleeping bag reminds Jesus they have an early morning coming, so he risks dropping a hand to Jazz's shoulder and squeezing just a little.

It gets him a bright smile. "Good night, Paul."

"Good night, Jasper."

As he makes his way to bed, he decides to at least talk to Olivia about Enid's crush. Their relationship is more like sisters than anything else, but that could be to advantage.

It doesn't stop him from looking forward to tomorrow's run though.


	81. Good Riddance

**May 3, 2011**

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle leads the way in the RV on the road to Alexandria. Behind him are the Kingdom and Solomon vehicles. He left the majority of his own people behind, with no reason to transport the kids to a questionable community. With just Olivia and Jesus to represent Hilltop, they are hitching a ride in the RV.

Ezekiel is definitely a unique personality, enough so to make Merle really wonder what sort of life the man led before. The king at least left his tiger behind for what is essentially a diplomatic trip.

Solomons Island sent a quintet, although only one of the two leaders. The four accompanying her are the strangest mix of scientist and fighter he's seen since Eugene started training. Camille seems like a reliable woman, and he can't deny she's managed to get a community with few initial survival skills to a good level of success.

"How certain are your friends that Alexandria is ready for this meeting?" he asks Jesus.

The young man sighs. "Aaron says the leadership is still convinced that they're the model community for surviving until the government returns to fix things."

"So no progress or improvements being made?"

"None other than community gardens that won't be enough to feed the community through the growing season. At the rate they're going, they'll eventually need to try to raid supplies in DC."

Merle can't criticize a community for not wanting to shift perspective entirely. His own is now a hybrid of normal before life and the necessity of current life. But even with the vast quantities of supplies they're gathering from distribution centers and abandoned locales, they might last two years at most without the agricultural steps they've taken.

"Is the problem just the leadership or the community in general?"

Jesus looks to Olivia, who sighs. "A little of both," the brunette answers. "If you can tip the community to believe, I don't think Deanna will stonewall, though. But I don't think you can convince her."

"She was a congresswoman before, right?"

"Yes, from Ohio. Her husband was a professor of architecture, which is how the walls got built successfully."

Merle looks up to the rear view mirror to meet Carol's eyes where she's seated on the little sofa with Olivia. She looks thoughtful, as does Hershel from his spot at the dinette table.

"How do we want to approach?" he asks. He doubts a woman like Deanna is going to listen to him easily. Her husband, maybe. Architects usually have a healthy respect for his type of background.

"Let Carol take the lead," Hershel suggests. "She's a nurse and a mother. That'll go over better than a man presenting ideas."

Olivia's nodding agreement, so Merle relies on their advice. "You up for a challenge, Mouse?"

His wife grins at the old nickname. "I doubt she's as much of a challenge as Lori was in her early days."

He laughs at that, drawing puzzled looks from the two Hilltop folks and Bryce. The rest of the fairly short trip is spent with telling that particular backstory and solidifying plans on how to keep Alexandria from being the weak link of the Virginia communities.

No one wants a Terminus-type takeover here, not at all.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol watched as the gates of Alexandria open to reveal a trio of men. Jesus's quiet tip identifies them as the recruiting couple and Deanna Monroe's son Spencer.

She's already not impressed. A leader who thinks she's above being at an arrival point? Carol's only ever missed newcomers since the pregnancy, and even then another council member took over. If there's only one of you as a leader, it's even more important.

Since Jesus and Olivia already know the trio, they make the introductions. Aaron and Eric are friendly and fit the information she received from the first group in Virginia. Spencer, she doesn't have as much background on, but Olivia seems fairly happy to see him. She'll trust the other woman's judgement for now.

"I assume we'll be meeting your mother somewhere that doesn't involve leaving the community gates open?"

Her remark startles the men into remembering they're in the open. They didn't see any signs of herds in the way here, but Merle pulled over twice to take care of small groups of walkers.

She points to the approaching straggler and sighs. When she unsheathes her knife and goes to intercept, she wonders what sort of impression she's giving.

It's an easy dispatch, a walker already partly damaged and missing an arm. While she's not gone on supply runs regularly, she's been trained by a variety of family members, just like Sophia. She cleans her blade on the tattered clothing and heads back to the waiting group.

"Good form, darlin'," Merle quips.

She favors him with a bright smile before turning back to the Alexandrians. "Shall we?"

After a speculative look toward the downed walker, Spencer motions them inside while Aaron and Eric secure the gates behind them.

Ezekiel and Camille, along with their escorts, seem to be willing to follow the lead set by those with prior knowledge of Alexandria.

"Your father arranged to have all this built?" she asks.

It's the right question to start off with, because Spencer's description of the rush to get the wall up fills in the time they spend walking through the community.

She eyes the woman standing on the porch of the house and thinks she would guess politician even without prior knowledge. Pushing aside the thought, she accepts the offered hand and introduces herself and the other community leaders, ending with Olivia.

That gets an interesting reaction from the natives. She doesn't think they expected so many communities or one of their former people as a leader of one.

Deanna invites them into her living room, introducing her husband along the way. The Kingdom and Solomon escorts stay outside with Bryce, Aaron, and Eric.

"Olivia, it's good to see you're doing so well." To Deanna's credit, she does sound sincere. "Did all of those who left here settle there?"

"Just myself and Enid. Denise and the others are at Homestead."

That's where Carol lets some of her congeniality slip. "Denise fits in so well with our medical staff. You must really miss having a doctor of her caliber here."

"It was my understanding that Denise is a psychiatrist."

"You do realize doctors don't specialize until after medical school? She's been cross-training with our other doctors. Delivered a baby in March."

"Don't forget assisting with the surgical repair on Mrs. Ward's broken arm," Hershel adds. "And assisting me with veterinary surgery."

"And the others?"

Carol gives her points for sounding genuinely concerned, but she makes sure her voice carries every ounce of disapproval it can. "Jessie's doing well, and both boys are receiving physical therapy for their injuries."

That startles the woman's husband into speaking. "Physical therapy?"

"Broken bones always require physical therapy, but Sam's doing well. X-rays of his fingers indicate no corrective surgery needed. Ron's shoulder will probably never be completely functional, but we're hopeful to at least give him more range of movement."

"What is wrong with his shoulder?" Reg Monroe sounds horrified.

"Repeat trauma that went untreated. If we had access to an orthopedic surgeon, there's enough damage to his rotator cuff to benefit from surgery. But none of the doctors from any of the allied communities have orthopedic experience."

"And joint surgery is not something we want to make a fourteen-year-old boy a guinea pig for," Hershel adds.

"What do you expect us to do?" Deanna asks.

"At this point, nothing. I assume your criminal doctor is keeping his hands and fists off your other residents?" Carol doesn't try for real diplomacy with that.

Deanna sighs. "Pete is keeping to himself. Mostly drinking, as far as we can tell."

"Hilltop would like to offer training for medical staff. We can't get someone trained to physician level within a year, but we can at least manage a nurse," Olivia says.

"And if your physician is still showing no improvement, you are welcome to bring patients to any of our communities," Ezekiel says. "We will provide you with a list of which specialists we each have."

"And what will Alexandria owe in exchange?" Deanna asks, looking wary.

"For medical needs, nothing. We are all in agreement that medical expertise will be shared freely." Ezekiel nods toward the other leaders. "And that no community will suffer hunger."

"It's the reason for the alliance meeting today. Leaving Alexandria out of the loop leaves it vulnerable. We already have examples of predators going after three separate communities." Carol pauses to let that sink in.

"How large is this alliance?"

"The three Virginia communities number around four hundred. In Georgia, our largest community so far is approaching two hundred and fifty."

"That's your community, correct? Homestead?"

"Yes." Carol withdraws a packet of black and white photos from her messenger bag and offers them to Deanna. None of the photos give away geographic location, but Jazz's penchant for random photography gave them a wide selection.

Deanna flips through the photos. "How much of this is pre-existing buildings?"

"Nothing in those photos was on the property before the outbreak except the barns. Just like your husband was an architect before, mine owned a construction company."

"They just helped us complete an additional wall structure at Hilltop," Olivia volunteers. "Now we have the space for livestock and to grow more than the bare minimum in crops."

"We even have greenhouses now," Jesus adds. Considering he helped build them, Carol understands his pride.

"I can understand the humanitarian angle of medical care and food, but why construction help? What's the catch?" Deanna is frowning, while Reg and Spencer look over the photos.

"We are treating it as a pass-it-on situation. We helped Hilltop. They'll help Alexandria. Having multiple communities involved in agriculture protects everyone in case of crop failure or natural disaster."

"So we may be called upon to assist another community?"

"Within your abilities and areas of expertise, yes. It could be years before all of the communities are strong enough to set up some sort of commerce." Carol shrugs, knowing kindness for kindness sake was a hard concept for her at first, too.

"And would we be required to follow the harsh consequences for crimes that your people do?"

"No. But you will be required to notify the allies if you exile someone for a violent crime. We aren't taking in your problems to put our own people at risk." Ezekiel's voice is firm on that. As one of the closest communities, it's understandable.

Carol can see the yearning not to be solely in charge of her people cross Deanna's face. They're essentially offering her a way to get rid of problems without getting her own hands dirty. In meeting with the others, Homestead isn't the only ones to execute rapists or other violent predators.

"I suppose you have a list of improvements to recommend? The young lady before seemed to have an entire list before she gathered her people and left. She's your family?"

From the looks Deanna is giving Carol and Merle, it's clear that she can't directly place Honey's place in the Dixon family just by the surname.

"She's my stepdaughter." It's easier to give the expected explanation. "And she originally intended to make the construction company a family affair. I imagine most of her suggestions were security based."

"She seemed really well-versed in such matters," Reg says. "From both a construction and a more military standpoint."

"Our family is blessed with several military and law enforcement members who pass their skills along to the younger ones. But Merle would be happy to do a walk-through and review with you." Carol glances to Merle, who nods.

"We could do that now. Not all of us are necessary for sorting out the details," Reg suggests.

Carol isn't sure if the offer is genuinely looking for help or the older man wanting a one-on-one assessment of Merle, but her husband agrees easily. Spencer stays with his mother, but the other son follows the two men. She hears Merle call Bryce to go along and feels a small tendril of relief.

She pulls a notebook out of her messenger bag. "Let's start putting our expectations in writing, shall we?"

Deanna smiles, seeming on better footing with familiar territory to cover.

Carol thinks the former congresswoman will be surprised by the Dixon tenacity to make it play out for everyone's best interest.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

It's interesting to watch Carol go over the agreement already hashed out between the alliance with Deanna. For someone who has only studied psychology in passing as a nurse, she certainly has a fair understanding of how to bring Deanna on board. He can understand why Merle and Hershel pushed her to the forefront.

With Olivia there to represent Hilltop, he excuses himself midway to get some fresh air. He likes being a go-between better than an official still.

'How are things going in there?" Aaron asks.

Jesus guesses he shouldn't be surprised that the recruiters stayed with the leader escorts. He's more surprised that Alexandrians seem to be curbing curiosity.

"Better than I expected, actually. If they get the agreement signed off on, Hilltop will get started on the expansion for Alexandria in two weeks."

That gives his people time to get fields prepped and planted, without being too late for Alexandria to do the same. They won't be getting the deluxe wall that Hilltop has, nor anything so spacious enclosed. But even ten acres will be enough to tip the odds in their favor.

"Is Pete going to be a problem?"

"Not as long as he's not allowed to repeat past history."

"Good. He's been pissed off but quiet. Having outsiders might set him off."

"I hope he doesn't have that much of a death wish." There's no doubt in his mind that the Homesteaders, even Hershel, won't hesitate to end Pete if given reason.

He glances around and steps close enough his voice shouldn't carry. "If he leaves these gates, we need to know."

Aaron nods, and from the glint in the man's eyes, Jesus wonders if he's hoping Pete will.

"I was hoping Honey would come today," Eric says, bringing the conversation back to fit for public consumption.

"They worried she might clash with people here during negotiations. She's working on an expansion of our septic system."

With Eugene's ingenuity, they're saving Hilltop from an ugly problem in the future when the population grows.

"Makes me curious how ours will hold up, with no service people for the sewer system."

"Hopefully, that's part of the tour they took Merle on."

"You've been down there, right? Is it really as inclusive as they implied?" Aaron asks.

"Yeah, it sure seems to be. Christopher is a essentially part of the Dixon family, and Honey's older sister is happily married to a woman. Expecting a baby girl even. There's other gay couples there too."

"Parenthood is easier as a lesbian," Eric says wistfully. "I can't see too many women wanting to surrogate now."

"I guess. They have an older child who is adopted. That's a sad option now though, considering how many of the adopted kids at Homestead saw their parents die."

"At least there's little need for group homes," Eric mutters.

It was a thing he found he had in common with the younger half of the couple… a youth spent in the foster care system.

"Thank God," Jesus can't help muttering. While Homestead does have Patricia's fosterlings, he saw no evidence of them being treated as anything less than her actual children and as Dixon cousins of some kind.

Enid's foster relationship with Olivia remains slightly less than family by the girl's own choice. He knows Olivia certainly cares for the teenager better than any individual foster mother he ever had.

One of the Kingdommers joins in to ask about orphaned children and their progress, and the rest of the time while the leaders meet passes in comparisons of the youth adaptation to the new reality.

~*~ CP ~*~

They're in front of Deanna's house, preparing to leave when the trouble starts. To be honest, Carol's surprised it took as long as it did for Pete Anderson to show up.

Part of her doesn't like being passed back to put multiple bodies as shields, but she tamps it down viciously. It isn't Carol being shielded here, but her unborn child. Even Ezekiel's people take part.

The gun in Pete's hand waivers and she wonders if he really even knows how to shoot it. It's not as easy as movies imply. She's catching glimpses around large bodies as Deanna tries to talk the man down. He keeps screaming about betrayal and siding with kidnappers.

The gunshot still startles the hell out of her.

"Carol! I need you!" Hershel cries out. She pushes her way forward.

Camille and Hershel are both kneeling next to Deanna on the ground. The Alexandrian leader is beginning to go into shock, a bloody wound in her shoulder. Hershel is applying pressure while Camille begins barking orders at the shellshocked Alexandrians.

"Run ahead and start prepping in their infirmary," Hershel orders when he sees her.

Olivia doesn't wait for anyone else, but tugs Carol's arm to lead her away. She gets the barest glimpse of Pete Anderson on the ground, choking to death on his own blood from the knife in his throat.

The two women crash into the infirmary building, and Carol quickly assesses woth Olivia's help. By the time Deanna is carried in on a makeshift stretcher, she has an IV prepped and ready.

"We're going to need blood," Camille says. "Anybody know her blood type?"

"She's O positive," Reg says. There's blood spatter on the man's clothes and he's shaking. Shock, Carol suspects.

Carol pulls him away from the two medical professionals working on his wife. "Do you know your blood type? Or your boys?"

It takes a minute for him to process. "I'm A positive. So are both boys. Oh Jesus, where do we get blood?"

She guides him to a bed to sit. There's too much blood on his sleeve and she remembers Merle's lessons about bullets passing through people. As she cuts away his sleeve to see the bullet graze on his upper arm, she yells for Merle.

"Get your butt in that chair. We need blood."

Merle takes a seat as she examines Reg amd determines a pressure bandage is sufficient until she can stitch the wound. "Don't worry about blood. I have at least two donors who are type O with my people here and I can send for more if no one else here knows their type and matches."

She's a match herself, but can't donate. So's Hershel, but he's more needed as a surgeon. But Merle and Bryce can both donate.

With Reg reassured and both sons stuffed onto the bed next to their father by Ezekiel and his man Jerry, she scrounges supplies and sets up the blood draw on her husband. He snags her arm with his free hand and kisses her knuckles.

Spotting distressed folks in the entryway, she hustles over. "Go bring me juice, Gatorade, or water if you don't have those."

A woman scurries off, leaving Carol to turn and see she's not immediately needed with the surgery. One of Camille's people is stepping in as assistant there. Since Carol's about ninety percent certain the awkward man is medically trained more than she is, she returns to the Monroe males.

"Will there be enough blood?" Reg asks as she unwraps his arm.

"There should be and there's plenty of saline solution, too." She snags a suture kit from a nearby cabinet and irrigates the wound. It's almost more a burn, but it still needs stitches. She numbs the arm while listening in on the two doctors' discussion.

"They've stopped the bleeding," she relays, keeping her wince internal. That much blood loss in a shoulder wound has to be the subclavian artery. Blood loss might not be the worst part, but nerve damage instead.

Reg doesn't even be seeming to notice that she's stitching him back together. His eyes are glued to Deanna, as are Aiden's. Only Spencer is watching Carol, and she thinks he's probably in shock as well.

"Neither of them are the type of surgeon for this, are they?" Spencer asks.

"No, but Hershel might be the best choice. He's handled gunshot wounds as a veterinarian before." Emmett Carson's a cardiac surgeon, but by the time he can get here, they'll be done, she thinks.

"It's karma," Reg says softly. "We stood by while those boys were hurt."

Carol can't deny that thought skipped across her mind. The shoulder wound in a woman who allowed a boy's shoulder to be crippled does seem to be a karmic balance moment.

She finishes the stitches and scrubs her hands. It's just in time for Merle's donation to finish, and she passes him a bottle or juice and goes to summon Bryce. The other man takes Merle's spot in the donation queue and Carol brings the blood to the doctors.

"I've got a second one coming. This one's O neg, but the next is O pos like the patient."

Hershel nods almost absently. "Try to find two more at least."

She nods and moves off, a little in awe of the two's skill as they work on inspecting the wound.

She steps out onto the porch. "I need two more blood donors, either O positive or O negative."

Ezekiel is the first to step forward. "I'm O positive."

Jesus follows. "O negative."

She gets them both settled for donating, and Jesus smiles a little ruefully at her. "Figures that the world had to end for me to be allowed to donate blood."

It's one of those lingering prejudices that pisses her off, so she brushes a kiss on the young man's forehead as she finishes. Knowing just how young he is, she can't help the gesture.

She goes to check on Merle, who is working his way through another bottle of juice and a bag of trail mix someone's brought. He glances toward Jesus.

"Think you about gave the guy a heart attack."

She frowns. "It's a sad state of his previous life that affection scares him."

"I think he's getting used to it over time. You did."

Maybe that's what draws her to Jesus. At least with as bad as things got with Ed, she had Sophia. At least now, the young man has plenty of ready affection given freely.

Before she does the rounds on her three donors she gets an update on Deanna's surgery so she can update jer family. As Hershel explains the damage and repair, she realizes Deanna got really lucky. They were able to repair the artery with only the incision along the clavicle, sparing her more extensive surgery, and they didn't need to take a vein from her thigh.

As for nerve damage, only time wil truly tell, and the broken collarbone is going to be a bitch to heal. But she's alive, unlike Pete Anderson.

All Carol can think there is good riddance.


	82. Future Considerations

**May 3, 2011**

~*~ Olivia ~*~

Once the initial rush is over, there are too many people in the infirmary, so Olivia steps outside. The surplus Kingdommers and Islanders are gathered outside, along with several Alexandrians.

"Olivia! Is there any news?" Aaron's genuine distress is reflected among the others.

"They've gotten the bleeding stopped, but are still working on the wound. Her collarbone is broken and she's lost significant blood, but they're optimistic. Reg was also injured, but that just needed stitches."

"Do they have enough blood? I don't know my type, but they can test for that, right?"

Eric nods along to Aaron's words. She glances around those gathered. "Who here knows their blood type?"

Of the dozen or so hovering Alexandrians gathered, only three raise their hands. All of the Islanders do and only one Kingdommer.

"Any type O?"

Only one of the Islanders notes as being O positive. She sighs. Hilltop's doctors, once provided with the supplies, went through their population just like Homestead. Solomon probably has done the same.

"Alright. Can you escort me to the vehicles? I need to call Hilltop for supplies." She pauses. "Did anyone move Pete out of the street?"

"We did." Aaron motions between himself and Eric. "He's in his living room, for now. Jesus made sure he wouldn't rise again when he retrieved his knife."

Olivia knew her friend was deadly accurate with his knives against walkers, but today is the first time she's seen him throw one. As soon as the gun fired, the sickening thud of the knife followed. She hopes Pete suffered a lot before Jesus ensured he wouldn't turn.

They walk with her, along with Tobin and Francine. The tall man keeps glancing back.

"Why do you need to go to the vehicles?" he asks.

"I need to radio Hilltop for supplies and to bring one of our doctors here. He has more human surgical experience, and there are supplies we can use here to test blood type."

"What are the doctors here already then?" Tobin asks, sounding confused. "They're saving her, right?"

"They're saving her, yes Hershel is a veterinarian. Camille was a coroner." She lets that sink in. The whole reason Alexandria excused Pete's behavior was that he was the right kind of doctor when Denise wasn't.

They've reached the gates and get them opened. She fishes out the RV keys Merle gave her and unlocks the vehicle. Aaron steps inside, watching as she gears up the radio.

Once the Hilltop comms watch responds, she sends them for Harlan.

"Is he the doctor?"

"His brother, actually. Also a doctor, but an obstetrician. But he's council, so it's best to let him organize it."

"I suppose we'll be relying on everyone else for medical now."

"We already offered, and it's possible someone will be willing to relocate with Pete gone."

"Do you think Denise would come back?"

"She might, but I mostly hope she won't. She's happy there. You know she'll never be truly accepted here any more than you and Eric are."

"You sound angry on our behalfs."

"That's because I am." And she knows Hilltop isn't currently much better, but at least she is more hopeful for change there.

The radio comes back online and Harlan's familiar voice greets her. She explains the crisis here and he sighs.

"You've got the radio equipment in case the joined the alliance, right?" he asks.

"Yes. I can ask Merle to start the installation, but he's donated blood so he's on resting status for a little while."

"Probably could get the rest of them up there by then. I'll het everyone organized and ask the Homesteaders to escort my brother. Someone needs to lead a supply raid. This will empty out our blood typing kits."

"I'll get that arranged. We can try to raid some of the blood donation centers. Relay what happened here to the other communities for me, please."

"Will do."

"I'll let Merle and Carol know their people are shifting here with supplies then. We'll check in again once the radio is installed in the infirmary."

"Stay safe." Harlan signs off and she shuts down the equipment.

"You're really good with that," Aaron comments.

"A lot of training. I didn't want to rely only on the comms watchers to be able to communicate, and all our vehicles have smaller scale radios than the ones we'll set up here."

She locks the RV up after they're both out, but unlocks the storage compartment and passes the two radios and boxes of equipment out to everyone.

"Let's go see about getting these set up."

It feels good to be a respected part of the solution.

~*~ Spencer ~*~

His mother is still unconscious, but the doctors seem optimistic of her chances. His father's at her side, although how alert he is due to his own medication isn't clear.

Aiden's already outside, so he goes to join him. There's not much of a crowd of their own people, mainly Aaron and Eric with the visitors. His brother is ignoring everyone, so Spencer sighs.

"Will your people still be leaving or do you need accomodations for the night?' he asks Ezekiel. He prays not all of them are leaving, considering they need at least one of the doctors.

"We are awaiting the arrival of assistance from Hilltop. Then we'll determine if our presence is still needed," the older man replies.

"What assistance?"

Olivia gives him a wan smile. "One of the Hilltop doctors is a cardiac surgeon. He'll be here with extra medical supplies and stay at least until your mother is beyond any danger."

He motioned toward the building behind him. "If she needs more blood?"

"Part of the supplies he's bringing is blood type kits for those that don't know their type. One of the Islanders is also a match. They should be arriving any time now."

He steps forward enough to get a good view of the roof opposite. "What are they doing?" Two of the people on the roof are the men who toured Alexandria with his brother and his father.

"Installing the radio antenna agrees to in the alliance," Ezekiel replies. "They are showing two of your people how it works."

He nods, feeling a little numb by the day's events. "And Pete?"

"Will not rise. We placed his body in his home until it's decided what to do with him." Aaron sounds as tired as Spencer feels.

Spencer doesn't like the idea of the man sharing space with the honorable people laid to rest at Alexandria. "We'll arrange to dispose of his body. Bury him outside the gates somewhere."

"I'll pull together a few volunteers."

He knows Aaron's word is good. His mother might disagree when she wakes, but he doesn't think anyone else will object.

"How long until they arrive?"

"Anytime now, if they left fairly quickly. It wouldn't take much for Homestead's remaining people to load up and escort Dr. Carson."

Olivia seems assured of that, so he takes a deep breath. "We'll need to bring their vehicles inside the gates of anyone staying. I'm sure they'll want their own beds if possible."

It's safer for everyone, too. He may not be a security expert, but vehicles outside the gates is a lure no one needs.

"How is everyone responding?"

Aaron shrugs. "Most are glad he's gone and don't care how. A few don't think he should have been killed."

Spencer scoffs. "They were going to do extra work to feed and house a killer? I doubt it." He didn't even see who killed Pete, and he should probably find out to thank them.

A shout from the roof makes everyone look up. Tobin points toward the gates, so he assumes the travelers have arrived.

"Let's go let them in."

He recognizes Honey Dixon easily from her prior visit as she drives the RV through the gates when he motions her forward. She parks it where the Georgians parked before. The big pick-up he remembers from the prior visit pulls in behind her, a heavily loaded trailer attached.

When the visitors unload, he only recognizes one other adult from the prior visit is a man whose name he can't immediately recall. The rest are all new, although the little boy is along again.

Olivia brings the new doctor to him. Carson's nice enough and falls in beside him for the trip to the infirmary. "How long will you be able to stay?"

"I came prepared to stay at least a month."

Spencer doesn't realize just how tense he was by the uncertainty until the man utters those words. For the first time since Pete Anderson pulled that gun, he feels himself relax.

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle heads back into the infirmary. Reg Monroe is awake, still sitting at his wife's side. He's glad to see that Deanna's actually awake now too.

"How is everyone coping?" Reg asks.

"As well as can be expected. Spencer seems to be doing his best to fill his mother's shoes for now."

"This is the downside of a single leader system, isn't it?" Deanna says. Her voice is hoarse and strained.

"A little bit. But it's also viable if you have a designated chain of command. As a former congresswoman, you should be familiar with the designated survivor idea."

"It seems an act of nepotism to appoint my own son." She glances to Reg. "Or husband."

"Sounds like a question to ask your people. We didn't elect our council at Homestead, and it's done well so far. But there are seven of us, and I'm related to most of them."

"Which explains how three of you can be so far from home," Reg says.

"There are always at least two of us on property. We even have a backup plan on who's in charge beyond the council. That's what you need to set up here."

The couple exchanges a look that's tinged with exhaustion. He can only imagine how terrifying today has been for them.

"Dr. Carson's agreeable to being here a month. Once that's up, other doctors will rotate to staying here for a month at a time, the ones without family obligations. That'll give you about six months worth."

"Are there really that many doctors available?"

"Amazingly, yes. We can only contribute one of ours to the rotation for now, but you're at least familiar with Denise."

"She's willing?" Deanna asks and he can tell he needs to cut this short.

"She's willing. We'll send her up with an escort in October. It'll be a good time for another veterinary round as well, so she'll have a little company while she's here."

He thinks it's probably when he'll send Scout up to get her analysis of Alexandria's progress.

"Thank you, by the way. I understand you donated blood."

He just smiles at Deanna. "I've been a universal donor all my life. Just lucky there were enough of us here today to contribute, and your people will know going forward. I'll let you get some rest."

He leaves them huddled together, Reg smoothing his wife's hair gently.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol is part of the group that escorts the departing people to their respective communities, while Merle goes to report their agreement to the Monroes.

Camille's group has already pulled away while Ezekiel's is still loading up.

"We will see your people at the Kingdom in two days?" the flamboyant man asks her.

"Yes, as long as nothing changes here." They're staying to give Alexandria time to settle after the chaos and to give them a little extra manpower if needed.

"Good. My people are anxious for the veterinary check. None started out as farmers and need reassurance."

"From what I hear, they're doing quite well. We've all learned new skills, haven't we?"

Something flits across the man's face at that, but it's gone before she can put a name to the emotion. "Indeed, we have."

"You should get underway to guarantee reaching home before dark."

"We will. And Mrs. Dixon? Congratulations on the new addition to your family."

Carol arches a brow. "Don't tell me it shows already?" That would explain the Kingdommers willingness to be involved in shielding her from Pete.

Ezekiel laughs, a rich sound. "No, it does not. I overheard your older children when they got here."

Even Logan got involved in the inspection that she truly was alright when she forst emerged from the infirmary.

"Thank you. We're looking forward to November."

"A family, especially children, is such a blessing in these trying times." He swings into the passenger seat of the big SUV his people are driving. "Take care of all of them."

She smiles and waves, stepping back through the gate as they're shut and locked behind her. The team who buried Pete returned while the others were leaving, so hopefully the gates are sealed for the night.

"Carol?"

She looks to see Eric waiting for her attention. She smiles at the man and he continues.

"Would your people like to eat dinner at our house? Just spaghetti, but I can make enough for everyone."

"Even if Mama says no, we're saying yes," Honey replies. "He makes amazing pasta."

That gets a shrug out of Eric. "I'm just enhancing the canned sauce. It's not made from scratch."

"Oh, sweetie, it can take a lot of skill to get canned anything to taste as good as it should, and if the bottomless pit there praises your food, you're doing a good job with it."

"So, that's a yes?"

She nods. "We'll bring disposable dishes and cutlery from our stores, but if you feel up cooking for nearly twenty extra people, we'll be there."

With that reassurance, the man hurries off. "Jazz, grab the ingredients for some sort of bread and get someone to show you the way."

He nods and pulls a bucket from the trailer and shifts some things around to retrieve a few extra things from other supply buckets. He snags his sister and Logan to escort him, leaving Carol to finish finding the paper plates and other items with Miguel's help.

Merle reappears before they're done, so he helps corral their people while Elias leads the way. This isn't where they expected to spend the evening, but at least they were here during the crisis. She shudders to think what would have happened if Pete lost it without skilled medical staff on hand.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

There are far too many people crowdes into rhe admittedly spacious house Aaron and Eric share. Jesus edges out to the porch and perches on the railing. The night is nice enough, ao he enjoys the sensation of not having two dozen people underfoot.

"Figured you would be out here."

He finds himself presented with a plate of food, with Jazz smiling slightly at him. He takes the food after checking that Jazz has his own plate.

"It really is good spaghetti," he comments before taking a bite. Eric cooked for them when they were here before.

Jazz follows suit, nodding agreement as he leans against the corner post. They get most of their food eaten before he speaks.

"You doing okay?"

Puzzled, Jesus frowns a little. "Yeah, why?"

"They said you stopped him from hurting anyone else."

Oh. He mostly put it out of his mind, to deal with later. The idea of having someone to listen to him about taking yet another life didn't really occur to him.

"I've had to kill before, Jazz."

"So have I, and they were bad men, but it still gives me nightmares sometimes."

There's the answer to what he wondered after Jazz's overprotectiveness toward Patrick and the others.

"Nightmares are normal. What do you dream about?"

"The really bad ones are where I don't get the guy trying to shoot Shane in the back."

Jesus can understand that. He figures tonight will feature him not being fast enough and someone like Carol or Olivia suffering for it.

"Funny how the mind worries more over missing than the actual deed. I figure it's to remind us of why it was necessary."

"I guess." Jazz takes Jesus's now empty plate and fork, but instead of moving inside, he drags him into a one-armed hug. "Thank you for keeping my family safe today."

Jesus almost hesitates too long to return the hug, uncertain of how to respond. But when he does, Jazz relaxes rather than tenses.

He knows he shouldn't encourage the affection, but he allows himself another minute before letting go. Jazz doesn't comment and just takes the plates and forks inside to discard in the trash.

Throwing that knife today was more reflex than thought, but he's even more glad for it now.

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane leaves the watch room after the evening report with a heavy heart. He put off notifying the Andersons after the earlier reports and requests, but now he's got to take care of it.

It doesn't matter that Pete Anderson is a disgusting bastard, because his family will probably still mourn him in some fashion.

It's a flashback to one of his least favorite duties as a deputy. He knocks at Jessie's door, and she's a smart woman who reads his expression easily.

"How bad is the news?"

He can see both boys in the apartment, listening intently as Ron pauses the television show.

"Pete attacked Deanna Monroe today. Shot her and her husband. A witness responded with deadly force." They don't need the details of who or how unless they ask.

"Oh, God." Jessie steps backwards, finding the couch arm. Ron reaches up to balance her.

"Is Deanna going to be okay? Or Reg?" she asks.

"Yes. Hershel and another doctor operated on Deanna, and Reg only required stitches."

"Good."

He isn't surprised when Jessie starts crying, just a little, as does Sam. Ron looks angry at his mother for her tears, and Shane doesn't want harsh words said.

"How about we take a walk, Ron?"

The teenager slips out from between his mother and brother. They move to comfort each other, and Shane leads Ron outside.

"How can they cry over him?"

Shane remembers his own mother mourning a man not worth her tears. "You loved your dad once, right? Hoped he might get bettee one day?"

Ron nods, hugging himself as they walk. "When I was Sam's age, maybe."

"What they're crying for is mostly that any hope he can change and be a good person is gone now. He'll never be more than the man you had to move to escape from now.'

"Why don't I feel like that then?"

"Maybe you will, eventually, when it's had time to sink in. Maybe you won't ever. Both responses are valid. I never did feel any grief over my dad being gone."

By contrast, losing his mama and Grandma Jean still hurts to this day.

"Was he like mine?"

"The alcoholic part, yeah. And he was a mean drunk, but he stuck to words and not fists."

"Sometimes words are worse. My dad might get tired quick of hitting me, but he could go on for hours telling us how we ruined his life."

Shane knows the feeling. "I know you normally go to Merle or your friends, but if you do need someone to talk to, come see me."

"I don't want to hurt Mom or Sam by being angry."

"Walk away if you need to. They've got each orher to grieve. They'll understand. Be as angry as you need to be."

The teenager studies him as if determining his honesry level. "Alright."

"I mean it, Ron. Don't bottle it up because it feels inappropriate to be angry or relieved he's gone. Come talk to me, anytime."

Ron nods and falls silent, but he's circling them back toward his home. Shane doesn't press him further. He'll talk when he's ready.

When they reach the door, Ron pauses. "Thanks, Shane."

"You're welcome."

Once the teenager's back inside, he takes a slow pace in going to get Anaya from Daryl and Lori's. Hopefully, Ron will take his advice and not let his conflict over lack of grief fester the way Shane did.

The boy doesn't deserve his father to haunt him like that.

~*~ Aaron ~*~

Aaron slides into bed next to Eric and kisses his bare shoulder gently. Their guests are either back at the RVs or settled into their spare rooms for the night.

"You okay?" he asks. It's been a hell of a stressful day, and he knows if he's barely processed what happened, Eric will really be struggling.

"Just wondering why we let it go until someone nearly died."

"We're still thinking we're in a world where there's a legal system to protect us from making the hard decisions."

"I guess. I never expected Pete to end up that crazy gunman like on the news. As awful as he was to his family, that's an entirely different kind of crazy."

"At least he didn't do it when he was the only doctor here."

"Maybe he realized he wasn't irreplaceable anymore and snapped."

"Maybe. It's as good a guess as any."

Eric's quiet for a minute. "Would you ever consider leaving here?"

Aaron startles at thise words. "Seriously? And go where?"

"It's not like we don't have choices now. But Olivia says Denise is so happy at Homestead, and they wouldn't think it's weird if we wanted to be parents there."

"Eric? There's no guarantee we could be parents there either." Parenthood is one thing they put off, to both their regrets.

"No, but we wouldn't be excluded from the possibility there." Eric rolls to claim a kiss. "I always wanted to teach one day. I don't know that they'll ever change enough for me to do that here."

Aaron takes a while to answer, thinking it over as he rubs a soothing hand down his partner's back. "We'll give them til winter and go visit, at least."

Eric always asks for so little for himself. How can Aaron deny him better opportunities? And a teacher would risk so much less, be so much better protected.

Hopefully, Homestead will live up to its growing reputation.

~*~ Spencer ~*~

Spencer sits in the dark living room with juat enough whiskey in his glass to take the edge off so he might sleep. He still can't get the image of his mother helpless and bleeding out of his head.

Aiden seems to have set it aside already. He went to bed an hour ago, shrugging off Spencer's efforts at conversation about what happened today.

He could go back to the infirmary, but he doesn't want to be underfoot and irritate the medical staff. Both Dr. Carson and the visiting veterinarian are sleeping in the infirmary, so his mother is well cares for.

Although he can't complain about one of the visitors putting an end to Pete's rampage, he feels inadequate. He was there too, and unarmed and untrained in any close combat needed to disarm the man.

It's something he needs to remedy. Alexandria can't keep pretending there are no bad people left in this world. He's heard enough of the bad groups out there to not want anyone falling prey to anyone like them.

He reaches out to open the notebook with the alliance agreement. If he can't sleep, he can always memorize the damn thing and see if he gleans any ideas about moving Alexandria forward.

He wonders how horrified his mother would be if he began visiting other communities. He and Aiden have done supply runs, but that's home every night. To learn all he needs to know, he'll need to be away for days or weeks at a time.

That's a discussion for once his mother is recovered, though.

That decided, he gathers his drink and the notebook to head upstairs. Maybe things won't feel quite so overwhelming in the morning.


	83. Patience

**May 5, 2011**

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle is doing his damnedest _not_ to laugh at his wife. Carol's half-covered her eyes, peeking through her fingers like a kid watching a horror movie.

It's amusing their own people as well as Ezekiel's, although the king himself is distracted by overseeing the veterinary check on Shiva.

"Don't you dare laugh at me, Merle Dixon. My baby is touching a full-grown tiger like she's a damned kitten."

That just makes it even harder to hide amusement for everyone, although it's not a large crowd because no one wants to startle the big cat at the wrong moment.

With Ezekiel involved, it really does come across as a regular check-up, aside from the sheer size of the patient. Shiva is cooperating easily, responding to the commands Ezekiel gives to allow each step of the check-up.

Hershel's calm words are leading Jazz through each step of the exam. The tiger reacted better to the teenager, so Hershel stepped back as guidance.

Right now, Jazz has the tiger's tail through one of the bars of the enclosure, drawing blood. He's already administered vaccines. Shiva merely twitches her tail back through the bars when he's done.

"What's he saying to her?" Carol's stopped covering her face for the moment as she asks for Merle to translate.

"Let's just say if she were human, we might have to worry about the boy eloping." He isn't sure he's ever heard such sweet talk, not even from his enamored brother-in-law back in his courtship days.

Carol stifles a giggle, and Merle hears smothered amusement from others as Jazz stands and moves away from the tiger's cage. The teenager damn near glows from the interactions with the tiger. He feels a surge of sadness that this world will not provide him with wider opportunities like this.

Jazz snags Honey and Sophia and all three are chattering quietly as they leave Shiva's night quarters. Ezekiel and Hershel join the remaining folks, with the veterinarian shouldering the vet kit that he'll take back to the mobile vet clinic Ezekiel's people located.

"Your son is more enchanted by my Shiva than I am," the king says, sounding fond. "The feeling seems to be mutual."

"He's always had a unique way with animals," Merle replies. "Although she's a far cry from his sheep and our horses."

They're following Ezekiel back to the public areas. The king flashes a more genuine smile than previously given, with little of his usual flair.

"He would have been at home among any zoo veterinary staff, I suspect, had such menageries survived in our world. Animals sense fear or disrespect, especially the big cats, and he has neither."

They've reached the gardens and when Ezekiel dismisses Jerry and Alvaro. Elias leaves with them without being asked.

The king is pensive for a moment. "I must confess I am envious of your family."

"Envious?" Merle supposes he understands. So many others have wracked up losses, and by some miracle, his family has only expanded.

Ezekiel nods. "To have kept so many safe is a tribute to your leadership."

Merle looks at Carol, who shrugs at the unspoken question. He figures it's no real secret back home.

"I am not the one responsible for the initial success of our people." At Ezekiel's inquiring look, he continues. "That honor would probably be best given to my oldest daughter, her husband, and my neighbor. We were all scattered when things got bad."

He summarizes the various groups of survivors and how they managed to cope until they found each other and made it back to Homestead.

Ezekiel looks pensive. "I suppose we both fell into leadership roles, then, but you may have been better prepared."

"It just makes what you've inspired your people to more impressive. Of all the communities we've encountered, the Kingdom is the most stable and self-reliant." Carol gives Ezekiel that sweet, motherly smile she uses to such effect on anyone she thinks needs reassuring.

"I was a zookeeper before. That's how I have Shiva." The king's details of the tiger's plight definitely explain her affection, as much as a cat can manage.

"And the kingly persona?" He has to ask. He never tried to be more than he is personality wise, but considering how he started, that's understandable.

"Community theater. Lots of Shakespeare. Good for speeches." The man's smile is a little sheepish.

"People like to be inspired. Add in a sense of community and safety, and you've done well by them." Merle slips a hand through Carol's as he speaks.

"It is amazing to hear you two have not been married for years. It is obvious Carol's the adoptive mother to the older children here, but I assumed Sophia was born a Dixon."

"She's determined to erase the past that isn't Dixon," Carol says softly. "But it certainly would have been nice to meet Merle fifteen years ago."

As much as he wishes Sophia his and the years with Ed not part of their lives, he's glad in a way that they didn't meet in the year after Jazz was born. He doubts Carol would have married him back then.

"Perhaps in time I will be able to visit Georgia. I confess I am curious to see the differences in our communities in person."

"Consider it an open invitation, then."

Ezekiel smiles, a far more genuine expression that is more man than king for once. "It will be good to have the friendship and counsel of those who share the burdens and joys of leadership."

He glances over to where Jerry has reappeared in the entrance to the garden courtyard. "It seems my self-appointed bodyguard is getting anxious."

"Perhaps you aren't as alone as you think, Ezekiel. That's the sort of worry family displays for each other." Carol begins to lead the way over to the anxious steward. "Responsibility can bring about a sense of brotherhood. You should think about it."

"Much like your family is taking young Jesus into the fold?"

"You caught on to his age, too?"

"He is very skilled in blurring the facts of his age, but there have been a few minor slips that gave it away. He tends to wander by for a few days when he is feeling particularly lonely or out of place at Hilltop."

"And does he still?"

"Visit? Yes. But he no longer seems anxious or adrift. I attributed it to the young lady in his life, even remotely, but he's just as content when she is very obviously taken with another. Instead of young love, it's family."

They've paused out of Jerry's earshot, but Merle can tell that Ezekiel is considering Carol's idea seriously.

"Do you see what I see?" Carol asks.

"Yes, I think I do." Ezekiel captures Carol's free hand and elegantly brushes a kiss across her knuckles. "And I thank milady for sharing her wisdom so graciously."

He flashes Merle a grin bordering on the mischievous as he releases Carol's hand and turns to greet Jerry with enthusiasm.

"Well, darlin', did you ever think you'd get a kiss from royalty?" he teases.

She simply swats his shoulder, laughing, and they follow their host.

~*~ SW ~*~

Scout looks so haunted when she steps out of the truck that Shane immediately starts planning downtime for her. She's got Anaya cuddled close, obviously needing the happy embrace.

He moves to Christopher's side and nudges the nurse.

Christopher sighs and rubs a hand over his face. "We found a burned out enclave just south of Sharpsburg. Matches what they tried on the Vatos. There were kids."

"Dammit." It's always horrific to come across child walkers, but to find ones murdered instead of falling victim to the disease or the dead has got to be gut-wrenching.

"My advice? Tuck her up with all the kids and let her remember they're all safe." His wife's best friend swallows hard. "There was a baby, maybe Christian's age, trapped in a crib. No other signs of trauma."

Damn those bastards to hell. "Any sign of how long ago?"

"Last summer, I think. One of the teenagers kept a diary and the entries end in July."

Before they would have known the danger existed, as the madman spread chaos and destruction like a cancer over the state.

"How many saw the baby?" Scout's not the only one in need of extra care after seeing that.

"Just me and her, as far as that he probably didn't die with the rest. We buried the dead there, couldn't just leave them this time."

Shane rests a hand on the nurse's shoulder. "Glenn's team isn't back yet. How about we all get sorted out at the main house? She's going to want you close, too."

It's a sign of just how raw the younger man is emotionally that he just nods and sets off for the main house.

Scout is looking at him over their oldest daughter's head, and he doesn't think he's ever seen her quite so hollow. He can't take away what she's seen, so he just wraps his arms around both of them and smushes Anaya between them.

Anaya squeaks a little, but she's always been almost preternaturally observant. She adds her own extra oomph to hugging Scout.

Tonight, they'll smother Scout and Christopher both in family, reminding them of all the ones Homestead did get to in time.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

"What is Eugene going over so intently with Brady and Ella?" Jesus asks as he sits beside Honey at supper. Logan plops down opposite him and next to Sophia and Jazz.

Hershel and Jazz have completed about half of the vet check-ups, so they're staying the night at the Kingdom.

"He and Brady have been working on accessing a software that would allow us to send emails using the ham radio system. Apparently, Ella was a programmer before."

"That explains the laptop." He's been around the computers at Homestead and even helped install a few at Hilltop. Setting up a basic network at Hilltop is part of why the former Guardsman came north with them.

"Since everyone looks happy and intense, I'm guessing they have some ideas on it."

"There really is software for that?" The amount of creativity still adaptable to their lives often amazes him.

"Yeah. Used to, it was as easy as installing some software and having a radio compatible with a computer. But whatever central server was used to register accounts is obviously gone dark, so they're working on recreating that missing piece."

"And they needed a hacker. Nice." He's only vaguely familiar with Ella from visits to the Kingdom. As far as he remembers, she's part of the agricultural workers now.

"I suspect they'll be down that rabbit hole a while." She reaches across and spears a chunk of roasted sweet potato from her brother's plate.

Jazz just pushes his plate closer. Sophia giggles and pushes her plate over too. With a smirk, Logan does the same.

"She's a bottomless pit," Jazz explains. "It's a miracle I didn't starve to death as a kid."

That sets all of the Dixons off as Jesus just grins and shakes his head. Honey snags a bite off each of their plates before pushing them back.

"Is that how you got so tall?" Logan asks. The boy is studying Honey suspiciously.

"Absolutely."

Jesus knows it's coming but can't help laughing when Logan promptly steals Honey's entire plate.

"You're tall enough."

~*~ CP ~*~

The summons interrupting the meal is not an unusual one for Carol to hear, nor is Hershel and Jazz abandoning their meals. Back home, it usually has a couple extra folks along.

But when Ezekiel asks if it would be imposing to accompany the veterinary staff, she goes along and so does Jerry. Merle, in the middle of a discussion with Ezekiel's building team, just smiles as they leave.

"This is the first birth among the cows here," Ezekiel explains. "We've had births among the goats and pigs, but not the cattle."

"You're actually a step ahead of us on that. We didn't start a breeding program for the cattle we rounded up until fall. We won't have our first calves until July."

"In all honesty, ours were already pregnant when we found them."

"Sounds like most of our foundling goats and sheep."

"Jesus indicated Hilltop inherited a flock of sheep from Homestead."

"Twenty-four females bred to a ram we already had on property and an unrelated ram lamb to start off the flock."

"And would you consider the same for us?"

"Hilltop will be giving you half of their female lambs when they're weaned in late September. We'll reserve another unrelated ram lamb to deliver here in the fall."

"Hershel indicated that it would be a good idea for trading livestock to keep the gene pool diverse."

"Based on the charts and data they collect, I'm inclined to believe the recommendation."

They've reached the barn where the laboring cow is confined. She can't see Hershel and assumes he's in the stall. Jazz is partly outside the stall, readying an odd set of chains as he listens to his mentor. One of Ezekiel's people hovers nearby.

"Calf's fully breech, son. I'm going to have you draw the feet out."

Jazz looks briefly panicked, but takes a deep breath and hands the chains to the waiting Kingdommer.

As he readies for the procedure, Carol realizes something. "He's delivered or overseen dozens of animal births at home, and this is the first time I've ever watched."

Ezekiel makes a thoughtful sound. She figures he's seen or assisted in plenty of odd medical procedures like this.

"You should feel the leg? Got it?" Hershel instructs.

"Both legs are tucked under, but we have a different problem. There's two babies in here."

Hershel takes a deep breath and pats Jazz's shoulder. "Extra work. Is the other one turned properly?"

"I think so. I can feel its nose."

"Then we'll act as if it's a single birth for now."

Jazz nods and moves slowly. "Got both feet extended."

"Alright." Jazz backs up and strips off the shoulder high gloves. As soon as the feet appear, he and Hershel get the chains attached.

"Wait until I say to start the pull," Hershel cautions. "But when you start, it's got to go as fast as possible. The umbilical cord can detach or the calf otherwise smother."

"Understood."

Everyone watches tensely as the cow labors. The calf rotates and at Hershel's signal, Jazz begins the pull.

The teenager's shoulders tense and his biceps bulge as he begins to put steady pressure on the rope. Hershel calls out instructions and encouragement as the calf begins to move.

And then the baby is out and on the stall floor.

It bawls loudly as Jazz manhandles it to free the chains.

"A heifer. That's good so far," he says.

"Why is gender important?" Carol asks.

"With twins, you hope for heifers. Mixed gender usually ends with an infertile heifer and two bull calves usually end in a too difficult delivery," Hershel explains. "We've got feet again. Looks like the twin is delivering without help."

If there's worse deliveries than one, Carol doesn't want to watch, and she's attended multiple human births.

The second calf emerges into the world, but unlike its twin, it isn't making any noise. Jazz moves quickly from his squirming first charge, using his fingers to clear the airway.

Hershel dumps cold water on the calf, attempting to shock it into breathing. When that doesn't work, Jazz begins breathing into the little creature's nostrils.

Just when Carol thinks it isn't going to work, the calf's chest shudders and it makes a weak sound. Hershel releases the mother, who begins cleaning the stronger calf. That leaves Jazz and Hershel to work on the younger twin.

"Is there anything we can do?" Ezekiel asks.

"It's just a matter of seeing if she'll accept them both. If not, you'll need to bottle feed the rejected twin. You'll also need to keep an eye out that both calves are nursing equally. The mothers aren't always good at knowing."

Hershel's explanation makes sense to Carol. Even with the sheep and goats that more commonly have twins, she knows there's been a few times they've resorted to bottle feeding or foster mothers.

"Are they both female?" It's the first time Jerry's spoken.

"Yes." Jazz backs off as the mother comes to inspect her second calf. "Now we wait to see if they nurse."

The worker brings a new bucket of water so that Hershel and Jazz can nominally clean up.

"This is your first time helping deliver calves?" Ezekiel asks.

"We had a pair of mini Jerseys before for a 4H project, but they didn't need any help. Helped with just about everything except cows and horses."

"As far as I can see, you did an excellent job with it."

The second twin is actually the first on her feet, stumbling around until she bumps into her mother and begins to nurse enthusiastically.

They all watch until the older twin finally gets with the program to nurse too, which takes nearly half an hour.

"I should probably return and spread the news of our newest arrivals," Ezekiel says at last.

"You should go back and get some more supper, Hershel," Jazz says. He's propped in the corner of the stall, just watching the mama and babies with contentment. "I can stay and make sure she clears the placenta safely."

"Alright." Hershel gathers equipment with a gentle smile for his apprentice. "Send for me if you see any complications or placenta arrive within four hours."

Carol's not sure how much of the easy agreement is Hershel's confidence in Jazz and how much is from the fact that he's getting too old for hours in a barn stall. Probably a bit of both.

"We'll make a bathroom available so that you can ahower and change," Ezekiel offers.

After bidding Jazz farewell, she accompanies the men back.

"I suspect he will spend the night in the barn," she tells the king. "We put an RV at the sheep paddocks because he sleeps down there during lambing."

"I'll arrange for a cot and sleep gear to be taken to him."

"Thank you."

"Is he your only apprentice?"

Hershel smiles. "No, just my most advanced. I have two others training currently, and one of the younger teens is expressing interest."

"Would you consider additional apprentices, should the Kingdom find likely trainees?"

"As long as I have the option to veto anyone who is not a good fit."

"If he is the most advanced, how close is he to independent work?"

Carol can see where this is going, and part of her wants to stick to the traditional eight years or more he would normally train. She also knows that many of those general education courses are no longer applicable.

"Ideally, two more years. Realistically? I expect he'll be working independently in another year and learning as he goes. With so many complexities we cannot treat, it slims down the curriculum."

"And a new apprentice?"

"Would take at least three years. Most won't begin with a several year head start on animal husbandry like Jazz and my daughter. More importantly, most don't have his drive to learn."

"I see that Carol understands my line of questioning. Georgia is a considerable distance in an emergency."

She sighs as they're nearing the dining hall. "He is only fifteen."

Ezekiel actually stumbles, but recovers quickly. "My apologies. I assumed Honey to be the younger sibling."

"It's a common enough mix-up with them." Carol made the same mistake herself initially. "But as much as I hate the idea that he's going to leave home sooner rather than later, it's not beyond consideration that he'll spend time at other communities long before what used to be considered adulthood."

It's a reality she and Merle have discussed. Honey is too mature for her age, and it will be a continued theme among many families. Technically, Miguel is even younger than Jazz and is already set on an apprenticeship at Hilltop.

"We will just have to look after our young people that need to leave the nest early," she adds.

"I can assure you that anyone sent to my domain for training will be treated as if they are my own family."

She believes Ezekiel there, as she sees in him a kindred spirit. Being away from home doesn't mean they can't have a foster family. It'll be what they all have to trust each other with.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

Jesus can see the cot set up for Jazz just outside the stall, but no sign of the young man himself. He peers into the stall and sees him using a bale of hay as a seat in one corner.

"The babies are pretty damned adorable," he says, unlatching the door to let himself inside. He passes Jazz the thermos. "Peppermint tea."

"Mama fretting about me being out of sight in a strange place?" Jazz pours some of the tea into the lid-cup. After a few drinks, he offers some to Jesus, who accepts before passing the cup back.

"I suspect she's just better at hiding the concern at home. Thought she was going to have a stroke when you were working with the tiger."

"That was probably one of the most amazing things I've ever done. Her fur is so soft."

"And then you follow it up with baby cows. I'd say that's a pretty good day."

"Yeah. Twins don't always have a happy ending, even with my lambs and ewes are built for it better."

Jazz puts down the thermos and fumbles his phone-turned-music player out of his pocket. Instead of playing music, as has become habit, he just stares at it for a minute.

"We're here two more days, then one at Hilltop before we go home. I'm going to miss this."

The earnest blue eyes contrasting against his dark caramel skin and black hair reminds him of his initial impression that despite his sheer size, Jazz is too pretty for his own good. It also reminds him that Carol was right that there's a path here not yet taken.

But being mindful of Jazz's age doesn't mean he can't be honest. "Same here." He's going to miss all of them fiercely. "I'll try to come down again soon."

It gets him a crooked smile. "Good. Maybe Honey will have her cabin built so you don't have to bunk in with the kids."

"I didn't mind that part."

"Honey worries you're lonely at Hilltop."

"I am, sometimes. But I have Enid and Olivia now, when I'm not out and about."

Enid sees him as a sympathetic adult and Olivia, that's just one lost soul appealing to another. He suspects her no-strings relationship with Bryce is going to leave her a little adrift when they go back to their normal lives.

"Maybe Eugene will get his email project solved. Then it won't take so much radio risk just to stay in touch, if you want."

"Considering the things I once thought impossible that are being recreated, I've no doubt they'll sort it out."

Jazz's expression closes off just enough to make him realize he didn't answer the not quite question.

He reaches over and twines his fingers with Jazz's where the young man's hand rests on his knee. "Jasper, I will welcome any correspondence we can manage, as your friend."

Jazz turns away to stare at the mother and calves, sparing Jesus from the intensity of his gaze. He squeezes Jesus's hand, but doesn't let go.

"Who told you?"

He doesn't even pretend to not understand. "Carol. Not directly, but more pointing out signs I might have missed."

"I'm sorry."

'Don't be. She was very nice about it, especially noting it isn't one-sided. I was just cautioned, not discouraged."

That startles Jazz into looking at him again. There's a hope blooming in his expression that reminds Jesus how careful Jazz has been to hide his crush.

"Our age difference will mean less in a couple of years. We can be patient."

"Paul, that's not fair to ask of you."

It's then that he realizes it isn't shyness that's led Jazz to keep his crush under wraps. Young as he is, he recognizes that expressing anything between them means a long and patient wait.

"Even when you're eighteen, people will not accept us as easily as they do your sisters' relationships having age gaps."

"Maybe that will change in this world."

He's hopeful that it will in some places, but not all. He rubs his thumb against the warm skin on the back of Jazz's hand. "I can wait, as long as you promise me you'll let it go if it's too hard."

Limited communication and living so far apart makes this unlikely.

"Only if you promise the same." Jesus nods. "Just how big is the age gap?"

Jesus laughs and for once, enjoys his youth. The realization that he was a college student leads to questions about his time on campus. By the time Jazz deems his charges safe enough for the night, Jesus is feeling hopeful this might actually work.

He leaves the younger male getting settled on his cot.

Despite one part of his brain drumming the reminder that two years is a long time in their current world, he can help but grin like an idiot.

He's always been good at waiting for anything he truly wants.


	84. Rescue

**May 13, 2011**

~*~ DD ~*~

"Hey, Daryl. You hear that?"

Brady's voice is not nearly alarmed enough for what they're hearing, but that's the apocalypse for you. Some things get a little too commonplace.

"Yeah. Sounds like a good sized group of walkers."

He nods to his team, and Ryan's team falls in behind them as they advance on foot. They've been sweeping north and east from where Daryl's office was in Thomson, being more careful to look for survivors and not just supplies and critters. It's been a fruitful trip, and they're checking this one last neighborhood while waiting on a team to arrive with the livestock trailers for their latest find.

They pick up the pace when they hear a clear yell for help.

About two hundred yards beyond the last of the remote little neighborhood, they see a man dressed in black stranded on a rock. He's barely out of reach of the grasping walkers.

It takes very little time for the team of eight to put down the nine walkers surrounding the man, all silently. No one goes on Daryl's teams without being able to utilize either a bow or crossbow.

As the others go to retrieve arrows and bolts, he steps up to study the man panting on top of the rock. "You okay?" Spotting the clerical collar, he adds a belated, "Father."

"I am now." He slides to the ground, looks around at the carnage that taking down the walkers caused, and promptly vomits at the base of the rock.

Daryl shares a look with Ryan and the other team leader just shrugs. How anyone with a stomach that weak survived this long is beyond them.

After Rick needed proof of his former occupation to convince the state park group to come in to safety, all the former law enforcement and military who have their identification keep them handy. Daryl pulls his from the pocket inside his vest that Lori sewed especially to keep it secure and flips it open.

"You telling me there's some semblance of government left?" the cleric asks as he eyes the badge.

"Not really. But some survivors feel better knowing that some of the law enforcement survived." He tucks his badge and I.D. away and offers a hand. "Daryl Dixon."

The stranger takes his hand, but his grip is shaky in the brief contact. "Father Gabriel Stokes."

"You got a church near here?" The man's too clean and too well-groomed to have been on the move long.

"St. Sarah's Episcopalian Church outside town." That seems to remind him that Daryl provided I.D. because he pulls out a wallet and passes it to Daryl to inspect. The name and town match, and he's not surprised to see a fairly elegant business card with the church information before he hands it back.

"Do you need help getting back?" This is far enough north of Daryl's old work territory that he doesn't know of the church.

"I'm afraid there's not much left for me there. I ventured out in search of supplies."

"You don't have a group?" The idea of anyone alone in this, for however long, is baffling.

"I'm afraid not. I've been alone in my church since the end." Something about that statement and his body language tells Daryl that isn't the entire truth.

"You came out here without any weapons?" He hopes the man dropped something in the scramble to safety.

"The Lord provides all the protection I need."

Daryl refrains from voicing the blasphemy he's thinking, but it's a close call. A smothered sound behind him says he's not the only one.

"I suppose us showing up could be a sign of that," he manages at last. "Can't offer you a church, but it's safe enough where we are."

Gabriel nods hesitantly. "That would be greatly appreciated. I do not have the skills to be finding food in this world."

Daryl unfastens the pouch holding his meal bars and gives the man a protein bar and a ration bar. "Better food back in the vehicles. Getcha something to drink there too. Our water is all in the vests in a hydration pouch."

He guessed correctly about the priest's hunger, because Gabriel's hands shake as he tries to open the protein bar. "Thank you."

"Alright. Let's get back to the vehicles. We'll just wait on the others there and keep an eye on the livestock."

He motions for Gabriel to walk beside him, with Brady taking position to cover the man's other side. Ryan's team spread out around them for the mile trek back, with Antonio and Candace taking point.

Since today was a search and identify resources day, they've only brought two of the work trucks and their trailers. Sunday's run will be the bigger one to fetch the larger caches.

Daryl opens the rear passenger door on his Dodge and snags a bottle of Gatorade out of the cooler and hands it to the priest. "Have a seat if you like, Father."

Gabriel complies, drinking the blue liquid with careful sips. "You all behave like military."

"That's how we've been trained. Some remnants of military with us, a good chunk of law enforcement. Walkers aren't the worst thing out in the world."

"Considering the state of mankind before the dead rose, I can't imagine that they are."

Daryl radios in that they've found a survivor and gets the report that the other teams are within ten minutes of arrival. Gabriel must be recovering from his scare, because he's staring curiously.

"Like I said, walkers ain't the scariest thing out there. We don't broadcast where we are if we don't have to."

"What are you waiting on?"

"Found some loose cattle and herded them up into a backyard here. Someone's bringing a livestock trailer."

"You have farmland? Safe farmland?"

"As safe as we can make it."

When the man begins to weep silently, Daryl moves away to give him some privacy. He's not the first to be overwhelmed by the idea of finally finding safety.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

It's been a long day, and Jesus is just ready to shower. With the expanded fields needing everyone's attention, even he's been conscripted into Tammy's army of workers. But in the five days since the Homesteaders returned to Georgia, they've gotten all her designated areas ready for planting and started the planting today.

He now knows far more about agriculture than he ever intended to know, thanks to a few cantankerous council meetings. Gregory isn't as obnoxious as he used to be when he was the sole leader in charge, but Olivia snarks privately that he just has to piss in everyone's Cheerios at least once a meeting for old time's sake.

In the end, barring natural disaster in the way of weather or pests, they'll have plenty of fresh food in a few months and ongoing deals for trade with the other allied communities.

He opens the door to the trailer and gives Enid a questioning look to see her curled up on his couch with a textbook. "Everything okay?"

She was in the fields today too, but from the look of her, she managed to get a shower already. Probably his shower, if she's hiding out here. The ongoing battle between a few of the adults who think she should be treated as a child and Olivia's insistence on letting Enid set her own path hasn't tapered off.

"Yeah. Just nowhere quiet to study in the main house." She hefts the textbook to show him it's one of the nursing manuals Carol rounded up for the girl at Homestead.

"Harlan agreed to oversee your studies then?"

"Yes. He says he's going to make it official in the next council meeting, so that I'll be on the same training level as the boy his brother is training in Alexandria."

"Good. You'll let me know if you need anything? I'll probably go out on a run by Wednesday." That's Tammy's estimate of when it'll no longer be all hands on deck.

"I've got some anatomy stuff that I could use a laptop for." She indicates the backpack beside her. "Carol says the interactive programs are sometimes better for memorization than the textbook because they're in 3D."

"Alright. I'll let Olivia know to get a supply run to one of the electronics depots." It's something they should go ahead and get done, because there were probably a dozen ideas of ways to share training and knowledge that functioning computers in each community would help.

No one wants to get dependent on the electronics, in case reproducing them becomes difficult, but he has to agree with the idea that they should use all the resources they can while they have them. Plus, Eugene was extremely optimistic on improving communications when he left, so much so that Ezekiel actually requested Ella to temporarily relocate to Homestead to assist with the radio-email project.

"Gonna shower. You going to the group supper or eating here?" Since Enid's avoidance of the larger groupings of people in Hilltop has only increased since the Georgia visit, he's tried to at least help Olivia keep an eye out for her. He remembers all too well what it felt like to be that age, old enough but not at the same time.

"I can fix something here. What do you want?"

He shrugs. "Whatever seems appealing to you. Haven't picked up my allotment yet this week, so it might be slim pickings."

Hilltop isn't as reliant on group meals as he's seen at Homestead or the Kingdom, but they aren't fully independent for meals like Alexandria. He might mention to Olivia to let Enid have her own allotment. Give her more independence, and he doesn't mind her stashing things here.

By the time he's showered and dressed again, she's come up with some sort of pasta dish. The smell is familiar and he feels a tinge of homesickness for people instead of a place.

Something in his expression must give that way, because Enid's smile fades. "There's a book here?"

She pushes a composition book toward him on the tiny counter. He reaches out to take it, remembering the gift Honey left him before, but this isn't her handwriting. It's not Carol's either, because he's seen her elegant script several times.

"It's recipes," Enid says softly. "Simple ones, mostly, that don't take a ton of ingredients. You haven't looked in your food cabinet this week, have you?"

He shakes his head as he continues to page through the notebook. She's right. He's eaten at the group meal for meals this week.

"Well, you're not exactly running low on food."

He opens the cabinet that he stashes food in. Instead of random canned goods and the jars he stored rice and pasta in, the cabinet is filled with neatly labeled containers. These do bear Carol's handwriting and there's one with a bright orange sticky note asking him to please take better care of himself.

He sits down with a little bit of a thump, looking back and forth between the cabinet and notebook, feeling a little overwhelmed.

"She planned that before we left Homestead," he mutters.

"Probably. I helped on a kitchen shift when we were down there, and their pantry is full of freeze-dried ingredients like those." She reaches out to open the lower cabinet. "Bins of pouches for you to take on your runs."

She nudges a bowl toward him. "I followed the first recipe."

He pushes down the almost overwhelming sense of being cared for and tries a bite of what appears to be an alfredo pasta with broccoli, mushrooms, and tomatoes. "It's excellent. Everything's from the cabinet?"

"Except the pasta. That's from the jar you already had. Even the sauce is a powder. You just add hot water to it and put in the veggies to rehydrate."

He eats one-handed as he flips through the notebook. There's a folded letter after the last recipe, with his actual name on it.

"I didn't read the letter," Enid says, sounding a little sad. "That's Jazz's writing."

"Enid."

She interrupts whatever he was going to manage with a shake of her head. "I kind of already knew because Sophia told me the night before they left that he liked someone, and you're the only one he's spent any time with when he's not working."

"I'm sorry." For what, he's not entirely certain. That she's disappointed in a world that's loaded grief on her already. That he didn't say something to her when he first knew about her crush. Either of those works, or both.

"It's okay." Her smile is wobbly, but it's there. "Better you than someone else."

"Why's that?" Her reaction isn't quite what he expects from his limited knowledge of teenage females.

"You deserve someone nice like that." She looks down at her empty bowl for a moment before going to wash it at the sink. He thinks she's going to just go back to her studies, but she pauses behind his chair to hug him, resting one cheek on his shoulder.

He reaches up to brush his fingers across her hair. She keeps up the hug for a little longer, but then she pulls away. This time she does return to her textbook.

Jesus studies her as he finishes the food she made, turning the letter absently in his free hand.

"Hey, Enid."

"Yeah?" She looks up and the air of sadness is gone. He's glad to see her usual smile for him return.

"You should make sure Miguel settles in here now that his friends are gone."

She looks thoughtful, but nods and returns to her book.

That's about as far as his own matchmaking skills go, but even if she doesn't like the blacksmith apprentice like she did Jazz, at least she'll have a new friend.

He washes his bowl and puts the recipe notebook back in the cabinet. The letter he'll save for later, so instead he plunks down on the couch and nudges Enid's book.

"Give it here and I'll quiz you."

Her bright grin tells him it's exactly the right thing to set their friendship back on an even keel.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol feels the surge of sympathy she always feels in bringing a new survivor into Homestead. Gabriel looks caught between childlike wonder and mourning as he looks around the community streaming to supper from his new second story porch.

She settled him into a little apartment on arrival, to give him time to shower and change. He keeps touching his neck, and she figures being without the clerical collar must be bothering him. His loaner clothes are civilian.

"It feels like a dream," he says, barely audible. "There are even infants and pregnant women."

Her own pregnancy isn't blatantly obvious yet, but Michonne is talking to Lori near the community center. The swordswoman's belly is unmistakable at twenty-two weeks. Judith's in a carrier on Lori's back, content to people watch.

"We have around forty children under thirteen here. It's why we built the school house."

"I know I stated to my rescuers that the Lord sent me aid, but this is far beyond anything I deserve."

"And God is able to make all grace abound toward you; that ye, always having all sufficiency in all things, may abound to every good work."

"Second Corinthians. You retain your faith, even in this world?"

Carol smiles at him. "The world before was the one that tested my faith, Father Gabriel. This one, despite its horrors, is one where his mercy shows far more in my life."

"I am afraid it has shown me sides of myself that are not suitable for a man of God."

"Many people here have stumbled. We do have a lay preacher here, and most need no more than Hershel offers. But our elderly could use a minister who isn't also our veterinarian.'

He doesn't respond immediately, and she watches carefully. She trusts Daryl's instincts toward the man, and Daryl thinks there's something dark in why the man ended up alone.

"I failed my congregation and abandoned my duty." The man looks haggard and lost. "When the dead came, I was a coward who hid while they died."

She feels her stomach lurch a little at the thought, but if cowardice, temporary or otherwise, was unforgivable, many of their people wouldn't be here.

She reaches out and grips his forearm lightly. "Then perhaps you are led here to make amends by helping care for the weakest among us."

He covers her hand with his. "I do not deserve your kindness."

"I suppose as a man of God, you'll just have to accept that my kindness is mine to give."

Gabriel covers her hand with his for a brief moment, and she moves away when he shifts and pushes his hands into his pockets. "You have elderly here?"

"We rescued an entire nursing home abandoned in Atlanta. Twenty-one elders, most in need of medical oversight."

"That's even more impressive than the children."

"Let's go meet a few of them at supper."

He nods, looking a fraction less lost, and follows her down the stairs. Whatever ghosts linger for him, perhaps good deeds will help exorcise them.

~*~ SW ~*~

"Someone's grumpy tonight," Shane tells Judith.

She grimaces at him and tries to cram her entire fist in her mouth, gumming it. He tugs it gently away and lets her gnaw on his thumb instead.

He wants to swear she's too young for teething, because it means his baby girl is almost four months old. But he remembers this stage with Carl, and although the drool and discomfort started at four months, the teeth didn't appear unril two months later.

"Here, save your poor thumb from the little T-Rex." Scout smiles as Judith cranes her head to try to see her as she comes into the bedroom.

He takes the half-frozen washcloth and gives it to the baby. She makes a noise somewhere between a growl and a purr as she gets relief from the cool, textured cloth.

"Lori says she doesn't throw the washcloth as much as the teether toy."

"Probably easier to clean too." With Judith seeming happier, he tickles her tiny bare feet where she's sitting on his stomach and using his knees as a prop. She kicks and gurgles.

Scout lays down beside them, curling to where she can watch them interact.

"She didn't sleep well Monday night," she says. "Or most of this week. Growth spurt, probably."

"I'm curious as to what her check-up will show next week. I know it's my imagination, but it feels like she weighs five extra pounds compared to last weekend.

"She's due shots at this one."

Shane makes a face. "Don't remind me.". As grateful as he is that Homestead salvaged a decent amount of vaccines when electricity was still erratically available, it still was unpleasant to watch the baby jabbed with a needle.

Judith babbles and throws the damp and drooly washcloth to splat on his chest. He figures it's a good thing he doesn't have a shirt to need changing. It's apparently freeing her hands to make a dive for Scout.

He passes the baby to his wife, watching as she blows a raspberry on Judith's belly. The baby laughs, the sound much more distinct than her initial gaspy laugh.

Leaving them to their play, he goes to leave the washcloth to dry in the bathroom and fetches the bottle from where it's sitting in the pan of warm water.

When he gets back to the bedroom, they're laying nose to nose in the bed, just staring at each other.

"Not sure a staring contest with a baby is a challenge," he teases.

Judith cackles and accidentally smacks Scout in the face while squirming to find him. He grins at Scout and waggles the bottle in Judith's line of sight.

Scout snags it out of his hand and tucks the baby against her shoulder so she can take the bottle. Watching them together makes him eternally grateful that Judith takes to a bottle so easily for her bedtime feeding.

The casual observer would never know they aren't biologically related, he thinks. Judith's initially wavy head of black hair has thickened into outright curls, and her skin tone has darkened closer to his than Lori's alabaster complexion. She's still paler than Scout, but not as much as he honestly expected.

It doesn't take long to finish the bottle, amd they switch off. He takes the drowsy, content baby and pops her to his shoulder to burp her. Scout disappears to clean the bottle, returning as he's easing Judith into the bedside sleeper on his side of the bed.

"The girls still asleep?" He knows she'll have checked on them out of habit.

"Yeah. Abby was snoring, so I got her to roll over, and Anaya's blanket was on the floor, as usual."

"Between the snoring and the ear infections, I wonder if someone could still manage to take out tonsils now. Carl needed that done about her age."

"Makes everyone too nervous to practice on a kid, I guess."

He grins. "We could volunteer an adult as a guinea pig."

"You volunteering?"

"Can't. Had my tonsils and adenoids taken out when I was seven. All I remember about it was getting to stay with Grandma Jean and eating a lot of ice cream and pudding."

"Don't look at me. Mine are gone too."

He settles on the bed, beckoning her to cuddle up to him. He doesn't think having her lay her head on his chest, over his heart, will ever get old.

"You tired yet?" he asks softly. Neither of them sleep well when they're separated. Part of him wanted to attribute it to being still newly married, but an offhand comment in front of Hershel and Arthur revealed both men experienced the same decades into marriage.

"Not really. Movie or book?"

It's an easy choice, because he knows how much she loves it when he reads aloud. He reaches for the book on his nightstand and props it against his stomach to get the page settled.

He wouldn't trade a second of moments like this for any part of his old life.


	85. Adjusting

**May 20, 2011**

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle plops the daily tally sheet into Carol's inbox and leans against her desk. She finishes whatever she's working on and smiles at him. "Done for the day?"

"Yeah. New tallies on the finished lumber versus firewood."

The tornadic storms that blew through at the end of April missed Homestead and Terminus by a margin that still makes Merle's skin crawl. Without the weather service people to make assessments, he can't be sure. But he's fairly certain that the twister that tore about a twenty-mile path of destruction between the two communities had to have been at least an EF3 or better.

It happened while they were in Virginia, too. Terminus and Homestead worked together to get the route between the two communities clear. Now they're both sorting through the extensive wreckage to salvage useful items.

With more workers and more space, Homestead's been focused this week on hauling the downed trees to mill into lumber and firewood, depending on the damage. The scrap metal from several destroyed chicken houses and businesses will come in handy once they're done with the trees.

"Makes me glad that you insisted on storm shelters." Carol shudders a bit. "And makes me miss the weather sirens system."

"At least we aren't as prone to tornadoes as further west. Can you imagine being in Tornado Alley now? At least a hurricane making landfall should send out plenty of warning."

She picks up his tally sheet and assesses. "We're set for firewood if we need it, aren't we?"

"Yeah. Probably about two years worth if we really clear out the downed trees, since we don't exclusively heat with it."

All of the new construction - the cabin kits and freeform cabins - have fireplaces or wood stoves installed. He's determined that nothing has to be retrofitted if their solar electrical sources fail. Only the container apartments and nursing home would be a problem in that scenario, as well as the appliances in the community center.

With any luck, it won't come to that. They've got spare parts for years and growth, and he's fairly certain that they have enough people with the knowledge to piecemeal small-scale hydroelectric in if they needed to.

"Lumber needs to be marked separate from the stuff we haul in from the stores. Not pressure treated, so add it to the other we have left from when we did the raised beds."

After seeing Carol's tidy garden beds behind the house, Hershel suggested installing them elsewhere around the community, with each household being responsible for a couple and allowed to choose their plants. There are ornamental flowers here and there around Homestead, but for the most part, even if it's pretty, it's edible too.

"Got a suggestion in from Glenn's team for council tonight," she says, after she scribbles a note on his tally sheet. She's got her Cheshire grin on. "They came across a marijuana field that's apparently self-seeding itself now that its owner disappeared."

Merle laughs and shakes his head. "Damn plant is medicinal, I suppose, and probably better than some of the pharmaceuticals. But I really want to see Hershel's face when he gets cannabis farmer and dispenser added to his extra titles."

It's a scenario he imagines his friend would never have foreseen for himself. He and Hershel aren't the only residents who are recovering addicts or alcoholics, enough so that they act as each other's support and then as sponsors to anyone struggling. No one's really relapsed towards drugs, but alcohol's been more of an issue.

That's disregarding Cricket's hell-on-wheels campaign to get their smokers off the habit. He thinks at least three people quit cold turkey just to be able to skip the meetings with her. She enjoys showing the images of lung, throat, and other cancers far too much, but he understands her fear. They can't heal cancer anymore.

"You've got more news, don't you?" he asks. She's still smiling just a little too much for anticipating Hershel's reaction to marijuana farming.

"Four new pregnancies confirmed this week."

"Jesus Christ. We're gonna need to build that daycare soon." He's content though. The baby boom is happening because people think they're safe. "Who?"

"Chloe, Ana, Gail, and Karen."

His mind goes to possible work schedule changes. Chloe works the breakfast shift and Ana in laundry, so neither of them should need any accommodations. Gail's a teacher, so that's good as well. But Karen's a team leader, and that could get complicated since she's one of Shane's for the search they've got ongoing.

"Guess Tyreese will be fit to burst in the meeting today then." He settles on the happy side of that.

"He was fit to burst in today's appointment. Happy, but panicking just a little." She stands and slides her arms around his waist. "Like another person I know who raised most of his kids and is starting over again."

"I'm twelve years older than Tyreese. Got more reason to worry about being around for you." He kisses the tip of her nose to tease her, brushing his fingers across her barely showing baby bump. She's been feeling the baby move, but he's had no luck yet.

"Like any of us are going to let you be less than perfectly healthy."

He can only agree there. He doesn't think he could manage to be anything but healthy, at least as far as the issues that can be managed. Even the concerns of long-term damage from the sunstroke seem to have played out nicely, with all of his follow-up tests coming back as normal.

"How's the priest settling in?" He's been off property so much this week he's barely said two words to the man.

"Still acting about as gunshy as the Grady folks did when they first came. I made him set up a weekly appointment with Denise starting Monday. Lenore's happy having him down on the farm crew while he sorts out what he wants to do."

"Hopefully he'll be willing to talk to her, knowing it's in confidence for the most part."

That's a standard they're sticking to for now. Unless something makes Denise think a resident is a danger to themselves or others, she doesn't report to Hershel or the council. Having her available is an asset he can't believe they got lucky enough to have, considering what so many of their people survived.

"Terminus put in a request to have her come by once a month. She's agreeable, so Daryl's team will escort her over and work in the area to escort her home."

It's a little amusing that Daryl doesn't quite trust Terminus to bring the woman back themselves, but he knows his brother is actually keeping an irregular appointment schedule for counseling. It explains the overprotectiveness, he thinks.

He glances out toward the outer office, where Patricia is working. She's at the desk the teaching staff uses, so he assumes she's working on lesson plans of a sort.

"It's about time I round up both you ladies for the meeting if we want to get everything done before supper."

"Hmm. Suppose so." Carol reaches out to shut her computer down.

"Where's Matty?" he calls out to Patricia. The five-month-old isn't always in the office with his mother, but it happens often enough he expected to see him here today.

"Hanging out with Jessie this afternoon. She said she needed a reminder that her boys were tiny and sweet once."

That makes both Merle and Carol laugh. The longer the Andersons are at Homestead, the more mischievous Sam gets, and like most teenagers his age, Ron's a shifting ball of moody hormones.

Once both women are ready, he teasingly offers an arm to both.

"My, my, you're wanting to feed the rumor mill, aren't you?" Patricia jokes.

He just snorts. Although Patricia and her brood have a permanent invitation to live at his home, at least that's one level of silliness no one's attempted about it.

"Keep that up and I'll go out matchmaking for you, woman."

The rest of the way to the meeting passes with him suggesting various single men for Patricia - starting with the ones in their early twenties just for the joy of her pretend horror.

~*~ Amy ~*~

"How long are you going to be pissed off at me?"

Amy turns from her design board to stare at her sister. To look at Andrea, you wouldn't know she's pregnant, when Amy at that same stage was already all belly.

Jamie finds it entertaining that she's a week behind the mothers of the trio of "Christmas present babies", yet looks like she's further along. There are days where she thinks her husband likes being in the doghouse.

"As long as you won't tell those fathers they might have a baby on the way."

Or even confirm who they are. After the trip to Virginia, she asked Merle what Carol came up with, and if she's correct in her guesses, both men would want to be involved.

"I told you, it's cruel to let them get attached if the baby isn't theirs."

"You say that as if presenting a man with a baby out of the blue is any less cruel. The baby's not a damned unwanted kitten."

She takes a deep breath to calm herself as she turns away from Andrea. The baby reacts to her upset by performing what Jamie terms a barrel roll, rippling her belly under the lightweight green maternity shirt.

"Amy, I've never hidden the fact that I didn't want children from you. Even the pregnancy is pushing my boundaries, but it happened." Andrea sounds pleading, a tone that is rare and unusual for her bold-natured sister.

"It's not you not wanting kids that bothers me." She turns, unable to resist the idea that Andrea's nearly begging for her understanding. "It's just I see how overjoyed Jamie is or Glenn and I think that your baby's father isn't going to have any of those stories to tell them one day."

"They wouldn't have them the same way anyway, with me here and them at different communities."

"Not the same, no. But just knowing, anticipating, that there's a baby coming. That's something they need to know." She frowns, taking a deep breath. Part of what bothers her reveals a confidence from a friend, but she doesn't think Merle will mind.

"After you told me you were expecting, I asked Merle what it was like, to just have a baby show up out of the blue."

"Oh." Andrea sits in the chair the eldest Dixon often uses when they're going over a project.

"He said that all he could do was to tell Jazz he adored him from the time he knew him, but the older Jazz got, the more he could do the math."

"And what does Jazz think?"

"He's like just about every other kid who ever had a parent choose not to raise him. There's a right way and a wrong way to do this, Andrea, and you're doing it wrong right now."

Andrea sighs and eyes Amy's belly warily as the baby makes a viable movement again.

"Would you like to feel him move?"

It takes Andrea a minute to nod, and Amy guides her hand to the right side of her stomach. The baby reacts as he always does to pressure, bopping around.

"You were always moving when Mom was pregnant with you. She swore it meant you would be a dancer."

Amy laughs. "Mom missed the mark there. Apparently, I was just showing off my klutz levels early."

"Mom would have loved seeing you become a mother."

There's a note to Andrea's voice that reminds her how often Andrea butted heads with their mother for her childless by choice state. For all that Amy is angry with Andrea about not informing the fathers, she's glad their mother isn't here to add judgement about giving the baby up. She misses her mother and hates that her son won't know her parents, but her sister doesn't need that.

"Dale's doing his best to make up for it."

The older man is taking to his adopted grandfather role with enthusiasm, jokingly practicing by offering babysitting to all the parents of babies and young children. He's good at it, which isn't surprising.

"He's a good man." Andrea smiles as the baby moves again under her hand. "I think I need to start reading that baby book Carol gave me. Shouldn't I be feeling something by now?"

"You're only fifteen weeks, so not really. I was seventeen weeks before I could tell, and we had the twenty week ultrasound before Jamie could feel the baby. It takes longer sometimes with first pregnancies especially."

"Or maybe I'll just ask you."

She makes a face at her sister. "You sound like Jamie."

"He's going to be a good dad, even if he lets you do all the research."

It's one of the ironies that her husband often gets along with Andrea better than she does. Being in the military, he understands the career driven woman better from working with women like Scout, she supposes.

"We've decided on a name."

"Oh?"

"Isaac Dale Nichols. Isaac for Jamie's brother who died in Iraq, and I figure Dad would understand honoring Dale as the adoptive grandfather."

"Dad never liked his name anyway, so, yeah, he'd understand." Andrea grins. "I'm just relieved you aren't coming up with something to rhyme. You're already Jamie and Amy."

She swats at her sister playfully. "Don't even go there. Danny keeps suggesting that and none of his ideas make sense."

They both laugh, before Andrea turns serious. "It's really important to you that I tell the fathers?"

"Yes, it is."

Andrea sighs. "That's going to be a hell of an awkward radio conversation, but I'll trust your judgement."

Amy throws her arms around her sister in an encouraging hug.

~*~ Spencer ~*~

Spencer hesitates at the steps to Aaron and Eric's house. He's never actually been inside, and he thinks that's the norm around here. Only their visitors seem to go inside.

Before they left, he asked Carol for advice on his resolve to step up and do more. One of her topics was making the community feel connected, without excluding anyone.

He's not so slow on the uptake to miss her looking at Aaron when she said that.

So, he's observed the dynamics of Alexandria, drawing on some of the offhand lessons his mother gave about campaigning. His conclusions make him disappointed in his mother, who made a career out of politics.

She has the skills to pull this off, not fumbling around like an amateur like he is. She's taken the path of least resistance in her leadership, with everything from Pete to the silently accepted community exclusion of two of their most skilled people.

They already lost valuable members of the community by allowing those just a little bit different to be pushed aside. It makes him wonder how the hell the original plans to protect their people and bring in refugees turned into this imitation of a Stepford Wives community instead.

"You're welcome to come inside, you know. We don't bite, and Eric's made extra if you want to stay for dinner."

Aaron's voice startles the hell out of Spencer and he jumps. How the hell he didn't notice the door open, he doesn't want to know.

The invitation solves half his dilemma, so he nods and goes up the steps. Aaron smiles as he passes him into the foyer.

"You looked like you were trying to solve the problems of the world out there," he says as he shuts the door. He leads the way into the kitchen, where Eric smiles over his shoulder as he dishes up something that smells a lot different than carefully selected canned goods.

"Hope you're a little adventurous tonight. Dinner's more of an eat the weeds challenge than you're probably used to," Eric says.

"Eat the weeds?" he asks, a little confused.

"Eric grew up in the middle of nowhere. Learned to farm, but also to forage."

Oh. Well, that makes sense, he supposes. Their ability to be self-sufficient is one of the reasons his mother asked them to be recruiters.

"What's on the menu, then?"

"Fried morels, grilled wild asparagus, and mixed greens. Eric and I found a motherlode of morels at the end of April and froze a lot of them. Most here don't trust foraged mushrooms."

Spencer's first bite spawns his reaction to that. This is damned tasty, and he remembers seeing morels on restaurant menus at a premium price. "Their loss then."

They pass the first half of the meal with compliments on the food and Eric explaining foraging in general.

"Honestly, when we go through towns and suburbs, we look for abandoned gardens and fruit trees too. Most of that, folks here are more willing to eat, but we still put a few things back."

Spencer sees the jars of jam on the counter. "You've been canning?"

"When I have a surplus of something safe for it, yeah. I offered to teach classes, but your mother didn't think we had enough excess to bother."

Aaron shrugs. "To be fair, she was mostly right about the gardens here, but with the right teams to harvest, there are orchards and farms going wild out there."

"Hilltop arrives in a couple of days to start on the wall. Is that going to be too late to plant?"

"For some things, maybe, like potatoes. But there's a lot of things that like heat. Tomatoes, squash, peppers. We should look into finding freeze dryers and dehydrators, too." Eric points to an odd appliance on the counter. "I've made jerky and fruit leathers and other things with that."

"You got info on where to get them?" At their nods, he makes a mental note. "I'll get it scheduled with my mother once the walls are done."

Aaron lays down his fork and exchanges a look with his partner before speaking. "We try not to criticize how others adapt, but it's nice to see you get more involved."

Spencer feels himself flush with embarrassment, but he accepts the criticism hidden in the compliment. It's one of the reasons he's here. He needs to learn, and he no longer trusts his mother to be the best source for that.

"You were a diplomat and in politics before, as well as the NGO, right?"

Aaron smiles and Spencer's glad to see he doesn't really have to explain. He thinks the older man has already made the connection with the visit and his curiosity.

"That's generally correct. I never had the ambitions your mother had, but I did my part at the local level."

That probably explains his willingness to accept the role he has here. "I need to know more. Not just stay behind the walls or rush on supply runs."

Even with the changes implemented after the first visit from the Georgians, runs aren't a real insight into the outside world.

"You could join us, if that's what you're asking. Survivors are rare, but finding new resources for Alexandria is even more important now if we want to contribute to the alliance." Aaron's enthusiasm is contagious.

"I would like that." He takes a minute to choose the right words. "I figure with other options, you two will eventually leave us, unless we change our culture here. I can't promise that, but I want to be prepared."

He's not stupid or blind to the sidelong looks the couple gets. If they don't show to a community event, no one goes to fetch them like they do others. It's selfish to want them to stay and naive to assume he can change anyone's view but his own.

Eric looks slightly guilty, but Aaron's studying him with that empathetic intelligence that made him approach in the first place.

"I won't lie to you and say that we aren't considering moving to Homestead, or that there's not an open invitation. But as long as you make an effort to change, we'll help you out as best we can."

That's all he can ask, so he smiles and thanks them. The sense that he's operating on a time limit intensifies.

It's time to grow up.

~*~ Logan ~*~

Logan creeps down the bunk ladder carefully, trying not to wake the others. The nightmare still clings to his thoughts, and he's shaking and sweating.

He knows that he can climb over Jazz and his adopted brother will curl around him protectively. He doesn't mind being Logan's shield against the bad memories that come in the dark.

But Jazz wasn't home at bedtime, out with Hershel on a calf delivery from the new cows they brought in last week. He feels guilty on waking his brother again when he doesn't always get enough sleep.

He's fairly sure Al wouldn't mind him bunking with him either after a nightmare, but he eyes the stairs instead.

Before, when he had bad dreams, he always went to his mom and dad.

He heads upstairs before he can change his mind. At the door to Carol and Merle's room, he hesitates.

He can see that they're asleep in the big king-sized bed like his parents shared. They're curled up together, Carol using Merle like a pillow or a giant teddy bear.

"Carol?"

She wakes as quickly as his mom always did, sitting up even as she looks his way. "Logan? Are you okay, sweetheart?"

He hesitates, glancing to Merle, who's pushed to one elbow. He looks just as concerned as Carol.

"I had a bad dream."

Carol shifts and pats the bed between them in invitation. He pushes away thoughts of his own mother doing the same and climbs up and over as they adjust the bedding for him to sleep between them.

He accepts Carol's hug, burying his face in her shoulder and shivering. "I miss my mama."

She pets his hair, still holding him close. "I know you do, sweetheart. That's a normal thing to feel."

He sniffles a little, trying not to cry because he's too old to cry like a little kid. She kisses the top of his head just as he feels a big, warm hand rubbing his back.

While Carol reminds him a lot of his mom, enough that it's sometimes confusing, Merle intimidates him a little. He's very different from Logan's own father, who was a quiet, introverted man.

Merle's size and personality make him seem to fill any room he's in. He's rarely quiet and usually on the move. Although Honey's a lot like her father, it's different, her being a girl.

But right now, feeling his adoptive father rub his back as gently as his own father ever did, he finally understands they aren't any different where it counts.

For the first time since the night Jesus and Honey rescued him, he cries himself to sleep, secure in Carol's protective embrace with all of Merle's fierce determination at his back.

He's safe here and wanted and loved.


	86. Change of Plans

**May 23, 2011**

~*~ Olivia ~*~

"Harlan? Are you okay?"

Olivia sets the box down on the worktable in the infirmary. She brought some supplies from today's supply run. Most of it was for building materials to take to Alexandria, but they cleared out a small chiropractic office in the out parcel strip center.

Her fellow council member is sitting at the desk that holds the infirmary radio, along with the computer added during the installation of a rudimentary network at Hilltop. He looks upset, running a hand through his blond hair.

"I received some unsettling news."

"From another community or here?" She feels a frisson of alarm at the words.

"Nothing that big. This is personal." He sighs and straightens the already tidy desk.

"At the risk of being nosy, is it something you need to discuss with someone?" His brother is still at Alexandria, and Harlan, while well-liked among their residents, doesn't seem to have close friends other than Emmett.

"You've spent time at Homestead. Do you think their medical is truly up to obstetrics?"

"I know they've delivered several healthy babies, including the premature one you consulted on."

"And how is she doing, based on your observation?"

"I'm not expert on infant development, but she seems to be thriving. They have more resources and more medical staff than we do."

She takes a seat in the chair across from the desk before she continues. "Are you considering going to Homestead?"

He shakes his head. "Not like that. Although I may need to plan for a visit in late October."

"To be honest, I think it would be a good idea for exchanges among our medical staff. Like the loaner doctors to Alexandria."

"A residency program of sorts." He's mulling it over, she can tell.

She nods. "Is there a high risk pregnancy at Homestead?"

"Not exactly." He moves out of the chair to go stare out the window. "Apparently, there's the possibility I might be a father."

Her mind races over the earlier visit. There's no way it's Honey, and the only other woman on that trip was Andrea.

"Only a possibility?"

"There's another potential father from the Kingdom."

"And which way are you hoping it goes?"

"I'm forty-two and never married. Honestly, I figured fatherhood wasn't likely, especially in this world."

"But?"

"But I am hoping it's true, despite the complexity I'll have to plan for. We don't exactly have a daycare system here, and formula will be an issue."

"The baby would come here?" She guesses without Andrea, if he's worried about formula.

'Andrea isn't interested in raising the baby, even as a co-parent."

"Thea's due in September, right?" It's the first, and currently only, pregnancy for Hilltop. The mother-to-be is one of Tammy's gardeners.

"She is, and hopefully she'll be willing and able to nurse another baby, but I don't want to count on it."

"We'll figure something out." She reviews her own daily schedule. "I could help out on child care. Put a few baby things in my office."

The grateful look she gets from Harlan makes her smile shyly. They'll figure it out.

~*~ SW ~*~

The first shot fired misses Shane by a bare enough margin that he isn't going to think about as he dodges behind an abandoned vehicle. His team took cover equally as fast.

With Rick and Danny, he knows that's by instinct. He's glad to see it's equally as honed with T-Dog. No matter how much they train, it's never a sure thing until it's live ammo coming at you.

He activates the radio. "Abraham? Amanda?" With Karen voluntarily stepping back from the search teams, she suggested Abraham from her team to take over.

Amanda radios in that all's well, followed by Abraham.

The big man continues. "Sasha can see the shooter. Slim build, probably female or young male. Up on the Dollar General roof."

He glances at Rick, crouches behind the truck with him. "Either a warning shot or low on ammo," he notes and his partner nods. There's been no more shots since they took cover.

He's hesitant to just order Sasha to shoot. With as many predators as they've encountered, this shooter could just be rightfully terrified of any large group.

"Sasha. Any movement out of the shooter?"

"Just waiting. Patient as hell."

"Can you maneuver behind the store?"

"Yeah. Licari and I have cover to get to the back without being seen."

"Be careful, but if you can get to the roof, do it."

He hates being where he can't see where he just sent two of his people. At least Sasha and Licari shouldn't have any issues even if it's a new partnership.

"Think we can get over behind that building," Rick mutters, eyeing the strip center with the restaurant in it.

He relays the addition to the plan over the throat radio and lets Rick take the first crabwalk into the shadow of the building. No gunshots sound out, even as he follows.

Rick checks that all's clear behind the strip center and as soon as he signals the all clear, Shane unstraps his grapple hook. Once it's set on the roof edge on the empty storefront next to the restaurant in the center unit, he hauls himself up.

At the roof edge, he peers carefully to see if he'll be raising up into the shooter's line of sight. There's an A/C unit that gives him cover, so he signals Rick and then rolls to the tar paper rooftop.

The belly crawl to cover makes the day's heat seem even worse. It's hot enough to smell the tar used to seal the roof where the ninety degree day has it heated up.

He does have the advantage here to see what Sasha indicated. The shooter is crouched, not lying prone, and slightly built. He gets binoculars on them as Sasha asks for a distraction to cover deploying her grapple hook.

Abraham provides it by banging against the vehicle he's behind.

The shooter flinches at the noise, but doesn't aim their rifle. Beyond them, on the far side of the roof, Shane sees the grapple hook wedge into place.

From there, it's just a matter of time until Sasha and Licari are on the roof. The former Atlanta cop clears his throat before booming out the order to drop the weapon.

The shooter carefully eases the rifle to the rooftop and raises their hands, turning slowly on Licari's orders.

Then across the radio, "Jesus Christ, how old are you, kid?"

Shane can't hear the reply, but Sasha's repetition of thirteen carries on the radio.

Sasha goes forward to pat down the youth. "Clear. Kid's just up here with a beat up backpack and the rifle."

"Got a name, kid?" Licari coaxes, his Glock holstered.

It gets a reply and the kid bunches their shoulders defensively.

"You alone, Jeff?"

The kid nods his head.

"Get him off that roof, you two," Shane orders.

They hustle the teenager to the ground, while Shane and Rick rejoin their teams.

The kid's silently weeping, but eyeing them stoically all the same. He's got to admire the backbone it takes to stand there.

He offers a hand to the kid. "Shane Walsh, former deputy from King County."

Jeff's wary, like anyone would be in this world, but Shane can see he hasn't lost the old world trust of law enforcement. "You aren't dressed like a cop."

"More military, or militia, these days than a cop. How long have you been on your own?"

"Coupla months. Was out fishing when someone took down our camp and killed everyone."

The kid's telling him just enough of the truth to hide most of his tells, but he's spent too much time with Carl. He could be an exception, but the teen's far too clean than a boy on his own would bother with.

"You get any look at the ones that did it?"

"Yeah. Heard the shots and when I got back, they were hauling our stuff off and laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world. Hid til they were gone, made sure no one rose, and left."

"Anything about them stand out?"

"Not really. Just normal looking guys. Leader was a big guy with dreads."

Could be their elusive town leader, but could also be a random group.

"Where was your camp?"

"Over near Columbus. Refugee camps fell, but some of us made it to an old school with a good fence."

He's nervous, trying very hard to not look toward the Dollar General store.

To test his theory, Shane jerks his chin toward the store. "Abraham, take your team and clear the store."

Jeff stiffens, although he tries valiantly to hide it.

"We aren't going to hurt whoever is hiding in the store, Jeff. I've got a nephew about your age at our safe haven. If you are trying to keep other kids safe, we can help."

Abraham's team is nearing the entrance. Jeff swallows hard. "You promise you won't hurt them? You gotta promise."

"I swear to you. We don't hurt kids."

"They will stay hidden if I don't call them."

"Go over to Abraham then."

To his credit, Jeff doesn't hesitate to approach the burly Army sergeant. He swings the door open. "I think it's safe," he calls out.

It takes five minutes for the skinny, wary group to emerge, and Shane pushes down on the rage and despair he feels. Seven children, only one looking older than Jeff, all looking both terrified and hopeful at the same time. The youngest is still small enough to be carried on the hip of a girl who looks maybe Anaya's age.

God, he hopes they find whoever left these children to face the world alone. Their deaths won't be quick if they do.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol can't tear her eyes away from the children Shane brought back. They're too quiet, even the toddler, staring in wary wonder at the community center. Several women bustle about, fetching them food and drinks, even as the council gathers at the other end of the room. Denise sits with them, speaking quietly to explain Homestead.

Hershel beginning to speak draws her attention, despite being familiar with his report from working alongside the doctors. He looks and sounds his age for once.

"Ages sixteen, thirteen, twelve, ten, seven, six, and two. Two sets of siblings and the teens are cousins. The sixteen-year-old and the ten-year-old have clumsily treated and healed gunshot wounds."

Merle's shaking from the effort to keep his voice even. "Do they know where their camp was? Maybe we can find evidence of who did this."

"The oldest boy says their people killed two of their attackers, but by now, the bodies would be decayed." Shane looks as unsettled as Merle. "But yeah, the oldest girl remembers."

"She's their driver?" Merle asks.

"Yeah, although she's taught the next two oldest to drive. They didn't want to leave their minivan behind, so we brought it with us."

Considering the battered old vehicle was their home for the last few months, Carol can't blame them.

"I would recommend they be housed together, perhaps in one of the bunkhouses. Separating them isn't in their best interest while the older children learn to rely on adults again."

Merle nods at Hershel's words. "Treat it like we did the Terminus orphans. Let the kids take the lead."

"Maybe see if Denise is willing to stand in as sort of a dorm mother temporarily?" Tyreese suggests.

The psychiatrist seems to be building a rapport with the older kids. The oldest girl, Natalie, is almost animated as she responds to Denise's questions.

Everyone agrees on that option for now. Shane shifts in his seat. "We'll head back out in the morning to find their old camp."

"I want everyone to wear their body armor from now on. We've gotten a little lax." Scout's expression doesn't leave any room for objection, so Carol is glad that Shane easily agrees.

"I'm going to go let the kids know they're bunking in the building across from Denise's."

The other council members agree and they break up the impromptu meeting.

When she takes a seat at the table, she gets wary looks from all but the youngest. They already know who she is from their infirmary check-ups, so she just smiles reassuringly.

"Once everyone's eaten their fill, we will go to storage to find clothing and other necessities. You'll all be staying together in one of our bunkhouses for now."

"Even Riley?" That comes from Claudia, the twelve-year-old who seems to feel most responsible for the younger children. With one of them being her seven-year-old sister, Carol understands.

"Even Riley, as long as you all feel confident in taking care of her."

"But we'll be separated eventually." It's a question and not a statement from Natalie.

"The end goal is to place everyone with a family, but which family will be as much up to you as any adults here. Siblings will not be separated."

"Not fair to separate Claudia from Riley, either." Jeff's expression has the beginnings of defiance.

"Then we'll see who can take in four children instead of two." She'll do it herself if need be. They have an entire bedroom sitting open at the house, and Jazz is unlikely to ever move back into it.

"I'm too old to be adopted," Natalie says.

At sixteen, she's mostly right in their current world. They did similar with Troy from Grady. "Follow the community guidelines and get in training, and we'll consider treating you as an independent young adult."

She slides a trio of notebooks toward the oldest three. Based on their assessments, she and Hershel think these three need to be treated as the young leaders they are.

"These contain all the information about how we do things at Homestead. Rules, schedules, and so forth. If you have any questions, I'm happy to answer them, or Denise will."

The younger woman smiles readily. The kids know she's a psychiatrist, but don't seem wary of the fact that such a professional would be sent to them.

Natalie already has hers open. "Teenagers don't go to school?"

She explains the routine, and while she expected a little rebellion from Claudia, the girl only looks relieved. It occurs to her then that being kept back with the school children lets Claudia continue to keep an eye on her self-assigned charges.

"Who will watch Riley during school? She's too little for a classroom."

Thankful that Claudia acknowledged it first, Carol smiles. "We have an informal daycare system here. One of our ladies has a small baby, and she'll watch Riley along with another child during school hours."

Since Michonne's moved to working on the farm as her pregnancy advances, she's been taking Andre with her, to the boy's delight. That means Miranda Morales can handle an additional toddler right now. The interaction with Alicia, whose father works on the building crew, will be good for her.

"Riley would like seeing a baby," Claudia admits.

Carol glances around to where all the children are mostly finished eating. "Let's get you all settled. You can rest and check out your quarters until supper."

She spots Jazz bringing in produce for supper preparations and signals the teenager. "Go get enough to stock the mini-fridge in bunkhouse one, plus a supply of snacks."

He's been sent to food storage so often that he's got his own keys now. He looks over the group and nods, calling out for Carl to come help as he leaves. The younger boy had breakfast duty today, so she suspects he's hanging around his friends.

She's glad to see the kids are gathering their dishes, the older ones taking the younger ones'. Without being asked, they take the dishes to the big wash sink. Ron Anderson directs them to stack them on the sideboard, while he's running dishwater.

"Everyone's ready, so let's go shopping."

The smiles from the children give her hope that they'll recover in time.

~*~ DD ~*~

Daryl leans against the wall in the meeting room, a little too uneasy to sit. The team leaders that have been part of the search are debating that seeking out the destroyed camp merits all of them.

"You're all going about it wrong."

He's got everyone's attention now.

He clears his throat and straightens, moving away from the wall. "_We_ are going about it all wrong."

"How so?" Scout's curious, her tenseness bleeding away with the confidence she usually has in him.

"I'm not disparaging the skills you all have, but none of you were trained for this kind of work. Tracking old clues, wooded areas, old trails."

He can see when it dawns on the others. In protecting the new fathers and Ryan as a single father, they've excluded the three men trained for rough country work.

Scout sighs. She doesn't really like the idea, he knows. "Y'all willing to rotate onto the teams?"

He exchanges a solemn look with Quinton and Ryan, and both men nod. "Maybe not take our whole team, just us. Let others get some practice leading a team."

Like Abraham, in today's meeting alongside Karen.

Shane and Scout exchange one of those looks that make the others joke they're becoming psychic.

"Sounds like a plan," Shane says. "I'm guessing you want to go tomorrow?"

Daryl nods. Lori's got enough help that he's not leaving her stranded. He's sure Scout will probably just shift residences until they're back.

"Alright. We'll give it a try and see what turns up."

"Don't take any chances. We still don't know how many men he can put in the field," Scout cautions. "But I'm going to guess it's far more than twelve."

"Can we ask how so many children escaped?" Karen asks.

"One was outside the camp. Two were wounded and played dead. The other four were hidden beneath one of the houses by an adult who didn't survive."

"Do they need anything?" Karen and Tyreese are both nodding at her words. After adopting two of the Terminus orphans, their concern makes sense.

"For now, Carol's got them in one of the bunkhouses and Denise agreed to act as dorm mother for a while. Check in to see where they might need help."

"Alright. Supper's probably starting," Shane says. "Daryl, who's leading your team this week?"

"Brady. Take Elaine in for the fourth." The firmer Guardsmen has some leadership experience from the Guard, so being bumped up unexpectedly shouldn't throw him off. And Elaine's been training hard to join a supply team since Shane brought her group in.

The other team leaders trail out, leaving Daryl alone with Scout and Shane.

"You gonna tell Lori or do I have to?" Scout asks. She's smiling, teasing him, so he returns the favor.

He smirks at her. "You are the boss here. May be best coming from you."

Having to duck the playful punch is entirely expected.

~*~ Ezekiel ~*~

"You've been disturbed since the private message from Homestead earlier, your majesty."

Ezekiel's sitting on the edge of the stage in the auditorium, Shiva beside him. She's as settled as the big cat ever gets, seeming to respond to his need for her company.

Jerry's standing in the aisle, a respectful distance like always with Shiva unleashed. The big man looks as concerned as he sounds.

He shouldn't be surprised that his steward and bodyguard is aware of the origin of the message even though he wasn't there when Ezekiel was summoned to the radio room.

"I received some unsettling news."

"Is everyone okay?"

He wonders which friendships Jerry struck up similar to his own with Carol and Merle.

"It seems that I was less than circumspect in a moment of temptation."

Jerry arches a brow, but ventures closer to take a seat beside Ezekiel on the stage. It's the closest to normal, friendly behavior that Jerry's allowed around the man he deems his king.

"Temptation of the womanly sort?"

Ezekiel sighs and nods. The news lays heavily on him due to the uncertainty involved.

"The Kingdom could use a queen," Jerry says when he doesn't speak.

"If only it were that simple, my friend. It would be such an elegant solution to my dilemma."

"What's the complication? She's not looking for anything serious even now?"

"That's the easier part of the issue. She's not interested in leaving her family behind in Georgia, and I would be a foolish man to wheedle her into a relationship based on our particular liaison."

"I don't think I could imagine being so far away from my child."

Ezekiel can't either. With his family gone and only Shiva left of his original life, there's nothing that would stop him from being a daily part of his child's life. He won't state it to Jerry, but before he learned of the true complication, abdicating leadership here was a strong possibility.

"If the child is my child, he or she will be coming to live here."

"If it's your child?" It's enough for Jerry to drop out of his own persona. "Damn. I'm sorry."

"Now you see the dilemma. If paternity were certain, we could prepare for a joyous new arrival. The baby will never lack for motherly care here."

"But you don't want to get people's hopes up."

They've both seen the reactions to Carol Dixon's pregnancy among the women here. It's a sense of the potential that life will go on.

"No, I do not."

"Maybe it's a dumb question, but how are they going to be able to know?"

"I honestly have no idea. For all the brilliant things we do have running, I doubt anyone's managed a DNA lab. Or has the knowledge to successfully use one."

"Would it matter? If you were not one hundred percent certain?"

Ezekiel's been thinking that over ever since he heard the news. He smiles at Jerry. "No, it wouldn't matter at all."

"How long do we have?"

We, not you. Carol's assessment of Jerry's familial attachment shines through in most of his statements now that Ezekiel's paying attention and not feeling uncomfortable with the charade in the back of his mind.

"Late October or early November."

Jerry hums softly before sliding off the edge of the stage so he can face Ezekiel. It's one of the few ways they're on eye level due to Jerry's height.

"I suppose we'll just need to make a diplomatic trip to Georgia then, won't we?"

Ezekiel can't help but respond to the mischief in his friend's expression with a smile. Jerry's uncomplicated the complex problem so easily.

It'll be alright in the end.


	87. Progress

**May 24, 2011**

~*~ DD ~*~

It turned out finding the children's camp was pretty damned easy, simply because like one prior group, their group fled the falling refugee camps for a state park.

The evidence of the carnage is still there, in darkened splashes on buildings where even Georgia weather hasn't washed the evidence away, and in the bullet holes in the cottages and vehicles. Eerily, there are no signs of walkers even as they sit and idle the engines.

As the teams unload and begin a methodical search, Daryl's glad they did retain so many cops. Each one has at least two former officers, and when Shane insisted on a partner for Daryl for the trip, he brought along Elias. The young ranger was less than a year out of training when everything fell, so he doesn't have the experience of the older game wardens. But he's eager to learn and Daryl trusts him at his back.

He exits the truck and settles his crossbow against his back, waiting a few minutes for Elias to exit and settle his own bow in place.

Shane leans out of the driver's window. "Gonna set a watch and keep the cops on standby for you."

He nods, assessing the area. There are six cottages on this side of the road, with a single across the way. According to the kids, their people only stayed in these, but stored supplies in the five cottages further down the road. It's not how Daryl would have chosen to set up a community, especially since no one seems to have managed a true fence around the location.

Elias is near silent behind him as they circle the first cabin. There's little sign of the occupants or attackers anywhere but the front, so Daryl rattles the closed screen door until nothing responds. He eases it open, dropping into the almost forgotten analytical mindset of his old job as he points out the signs of a struggle inside.

Whoever was inside the cottage didn't go easily, but they were killed outside, not in. It fits with the teenage boy's statement that the leader of the group was entertaining himself by terrifying his captives.

Finding nothing inside or out to particularly identify the attackers, he leads Elias back outside and signals Shane. The former deputy sends one of the officer pairs in to make their own assessment as Daryl and Elias move on to the next cottage.

The scene repeats for all six cottages. In the last one, the one where the children were hidden underneath, they find evidence outside that someone waylaid an attacker with a hot cast iron pan. Daryl hopes the man actually survived to endure the burns as long as possible.

The two older unwounded children had managed to drag their dead from where they fell to a clearing between two of the cabins. Too young to bury them, they covered each body with bedding from the cabins.

"Christ," Elias mutters as they carefully survey the bodies, with Daryl cataloging how each died and his guess on age. Seven children escaped, but they weren't the only children here.

"Those kids are barely older than my Abby," Daryl says softly. It's more nightmare fuel for the young. "However this goes down, this guy needs to suffer."

Elias agrees, his young face anguished. It's not the first encounter he's had with predators like this, since Quinton's group took down two bandit groups before coming to Homestead, and Elias took part in putting down the Wolves in Virginia. But shit like this doesn't become commonplace.

Because these dead didn't turn, they didn't decay as quickly as downed walkers do, but it's been long enough that they're mostly down to bone and inorganics like clothing.

He and Elias step aside to let Shane and Rick look over the bodies.

Rick takes longer than Shane, but Daryl expects that from Rick's gentler personality. He's going to memorize these people, whereas Shane is already thinking ahead and beyond this horrific moment.

"Any idea how many?" he asks Daryl, keeping an eye on Rick as the other man works carefully, tucking the sheet around each body as he finishes.

"Can't say for certain, since the men could have carried multiple weapons, but I've got at least eight different weapons used, mostly handguns. One bow." He flicks the fletching end of the arrow he broke off. He hopes the bastard keeps to a pattern on his arrows.

"I suppose we should be grateful that they don't put down the walkers they potentially create."

Two of the surviving children are alive simply because the attackers didn't bother. The dark side of that is that on the three people not killed by a headshot, the children themselves had to put down people they knew and loved.

"We should bury them," Rick says as he rejoins them, voice hoarse with emotion.

Shane thinks it over and shakes his head. "Not here. Take them back to Homestead."

It'll mean more to the kids to have them nearby, instead of a remote state park. It'll also leave less evidence of survivors in case anyone unfriendly comes back by the place. Missing bodies can be attributed to walkers or scavengers. Graves? That's human interaction.

The park's thirty miles north of Columbus and the children travelled a further sixty miles north in their search for supplies and safety. Still, no one wants to lay a trail back to Homestead if they can avoid it. The tracking difficulty due to vehicles and pavement that makes it hard to find these bastards also helps keep Homestead hidden.

Amanda and Abraham set their teams to carefully wrapping each body for transport in one of their trailers. Shane's team trails Daryl and Elias as they go to search the skeletal remains of the two fallen attackers.

What should have been a jackpot find - a map in one of the men's vests - is less helpful after months in the weather against a decaying body. It does give them a clue of other locations looted or attacked, if the marked off places that survive on the ratty map match up to locations like this.

"Think this asshole was counting kills," Daryl states unhappily. He passes a pocket notebook to Shane. It's survived more or less intact, although heavily stained.

He has to agree with the older man's prolific cursing as Shane and Rick match the notebook to the map.

"Wish the bastard kept a better diary, morbid as it seems," Shane says at last. "Be nice to know if it's one group we're tracking or more."

Once he's got everything he needs from the bodies, Daryl kicks the remains around, scattering them into the edge of the woods. Their own prints will be gone in the next good rain, and these men don't deserve to lie here undisturbed.

"Gonna check the cabins the kids indicated as theirs for keepsakes. Doubt they took everything trying to get out of here, not with a toddler and two wounded."

It's a testament to the will to survive that a sixteen-year-old girl with a bullet embedded in her leg drove the kids to safety. Now it's Daryl and the others' jobs to make sure the people that made that necessary pay for it.

~*~ SW ~*~

This close to Columbus, they opt to head southwest, even though the odds are low that the marauding group are near the fallen city. Considering how long other groups clung to Atlanta despite it being a major hot zone of walker activity, it's possible they'd risk the danger for larger caches of supplies.

The monsters didn't even clear out everything at the destroyed camp. While all the cottages showed signs they were searched messily, only half of the supplies from the storage cottages were taken. He guesses they didn't have enough vehicle space to take it all, but why leave it? Murdering fifteen people and leaving valuable supplies behind just doesn't make sense.

Rather than risk alerting anyone they were there, he gave the order to leave the remaining supplies untouched. They know where the camp is to return later, once the infestation is taken care of, and in the meantime, there could be other survivors needing them.

He glances to his watch as they make their way sedately down the highway toward Columbus. They've shifted drivers, with Danny and T-Dog taking the front and rotating him and Rick to join Daryl in the back. He registers the date for the first time and grimaces.

"There a problem?" Rick asks, catching the expression from his spot in the middle seat.

"It's May twenty-fourth."

So much has happened that his brother doesn't even comprehend the significance of the date. Even with the evidence that Rick survived right here beside him, warm and breathing, he suddenly feels like he can't breathe.

"Been a full year since you got shot."

"Oh." Rick reaches across and snags his forearm in a firm grip, his other hand covering the watch face. "I beat the odds, Shane. That's all that date needs to mean."

Another hand covers Rick's and he looks up as the panic attack passes and he gets a good breath. Daryl's expression is as steady as Rick's.

It's a reminder that his brother lived and he's gained even more family since.

~*~ SP ~*~

Sopha is halfway toward the house for a shower after her shift helping with the never ending job of fencing when she sees the new group of kids at one of the picnic tables near the sports field.

It's a hot day, and while part of her thinks voluntarily being outside is a bit wonky, these kids are probably just enjoying being outside and safe for the first time in a long time. They look isolated and a little lost. She dusts herself off as best she can and changes directions.

The looks from the older kids are curious, so she introduces herself and does her best to memorize their names. "They just kind of leave you to your own devices?"

Natalie shrugs. "Denise was needed for an appointment she couldn't reschedule."

Noticing the stuffed bunny one of the younger girls has, Sophia has an idea. "Want to see some real rabbits?"

It gets the younger kids interested, so she motions toward the big rabbit barn not far from the original barn. "Follow me."

The big fans give off a mechanical hum as they approach, and the massive sliding doors are open at either end to let air circulate. It doesn't entirely dissipate the scene of rabbit excrement, but Sophia is too used to animals by now to be bothered.

""That's a lot of bunnies," Toby, the only boy other than Jeff, says.

"We raise them here," she explains. The oldest kids understand without being told about why. But it isn't the big white meat bunnies she's bringing the younger kids to see.

She isn't surprised to see Jazz in the barn, despite it being his day off. He's making notes on a clipboard, so she assumes he's working his way through a vet check. When he sees her, he glances at his watch and hangs up the clipboard on a support post.

When he's close enough, she indicates her group. "Are the new babies big enough to handle yet?"

"One litter is. Follow me."

He leads the way to the right side of the barn, where all the angora rabbits are housed. Unlike the big New Zealand rabbits raised for meat and pelts, the Angoras are raised for fiber.

The excited squeals of the smallest kids as Jazz opens a cage and lifts out a small bunny makes her grin.

"It looks like a stuffed animal," Natalie says as Jazz helps one of the little girls tuck the rabbit in her arms and shows her how to gently stroke the fur.

"It's so soft." Tory sounds in awe as her fingers slide through the puffball's fur.

"These are Angora rabbits," Jazz explains. "They produce wool, sort of like a sheep, and we take the wool to spin into yarn."

Sophia actually has a scarf made of the material spun by the woman originally from the rabbit farm. It's so soft she actually wanted more colder weather to enjoy it.

"There are a lot of bunnies here. Are they all for yarn?"

Jazz shakes his head and crouches so he's on eye level with the girl. "You know meat comes from animals, right?"

She nods, eyes wide as she looks around her. "Like chicken and pigs. Farm animals."

"Exactly. Rabbits are farm animals too. Different types of animals are used for different things on a farm, and Homestead is a really big farm."

"So you eat the not-fluffy bunnies and get yarn from the fluffy ones?"

"That's correct. But all of the bunnies are special for the gardens too. We take all the bunny poop and use it to make plants grow stronger to grow food for us and the bunnies, too."

"That's kinda gross."

Jazz laughs. "Just be glad you don't have to get the poop out of the barn and down to the gardens for a few years yet."

Tory carefully passes the bunny to Toby, who holes it close enough for Claudia to guide the toddler to pet it as well.

"There are lots of animals here, aren't there?" Tory asks.

"Just about every type of farm animal you can think of."

"Any more babies?"

Jazz laughs. "Quite a few actually. Have you ever held a baby chick?"

Sophia catches Natalie's eye and grins, while the older girl actually laughs at Tory's enthusiastic response to the idea of other animal babies.

Jazz has a new devoted little duckling, she thinks.

~*~ LG ~*~

"You could just sleep on the couch," Lori tells Scout.

It didn't surprise her at all when Scout offered to stay over while Daryl was gone. The younger woman swung by her own cabin for clothes and toiletries for her and Anaya, showing up with a camp cot for herself.

Scout shrugs. "I've slept on far worse in the past. It's actually pretty comfortable."

Lori supposes as a Marine in the field, she likely has, and the cot's a nice one. Scout and Shane shared an air mattress here in the early days after Judith's birth. "I guess after months on an air mattress in camp, I'm still wary of camping equipment."

"Can't say I'd really want to crawl into a sleeping bag anytime soon."

"Girls are both in bed." They only managed to convince her of one extra chapter of the book Daryl's been reading with Abby. "Judith give you any trouble?"

The four-month-old is such a happy baby that Lori doubts it. Even in her crankiest moments of growth spurts, she's a good sleeper. She's got so much hands-on attention in the large blended family that Lori figures it's one of the key differences between her daughter and Carl at the same age.

With Rick slogging through his rookie year with the sheriff's department, she ended up on her own with the baby at night quite a bit. He and Shane weren't partnered yet, not until midway through their second year as deputies, but Shane had the crap shifts too.

"Nah, she dozed off almost before I could walk down the hall. The girls did a good job of tiring her out tonight."

Scout shuffles in her duffel for a jar of moisturizing cream and drops it on the cot as she sheds the compression sleeve off her left arm. Even after all this time, the scarred flesh makes Lori flinch just a little, and her stomach roil with old guilt of her initial selfish reaction to seeing the damage.

"Do you need help with that?" she asks.

It gets her a surprised look from Scout as she rubs a hand over the scarred shoulder and flexes it. "I can reach most of it. Just harder to do the massage."

"But it's easier with help, right?"

"Yeah. Let me grab a shower first." She rummages in the duffle to snag a change of clothing and disappears down the hallway.

Lori busies herself by first checking on Judith and calling up to Carl a reminder not to stay up too late just because tomorrow is an off day.

By the time she's repacked Judith's bag for tomorrow, Scout's back. She's wearing a pair of comic book boxers Lori recognizes from prior presents to Shane and a tank top, her damp hair loose.

"You know, I never realized your hair is curly," she remarks. It shouldn't surprise her, because Merle and Jazz both have curly hair. All of the girls keep their hair braided for the most part.

Scout makes a face. "I used to get frustrated and cut it short, but after it grew back after the hospital, I haven't felt the urge."

She twists the hair into a topknot and sits on the end of the cot, offering Lori the jar.

Lori's seen Shane and other family members massage or touch the scars before, so the logical part of her brain knows they don't hurt. The emotional reaction can't imagine how it doesn't.

"Will this actually reduce the scarring?"

"Not likely at this point, but my skin there can't moisturize itself there anymore. I lost the glands there since the burns were so deep. It's the same reason the worst parts didn't hurt as much as the lighter areas."

It's hard to imagine being burned so bad that there are no nerves to generate a pain signal. She opens the jar, catching a whiff of something citrusy. "Now I know what your perfume actually is."

Scout laughs as she edges the strap of her shirt out of Lori's way. "I'm not sure I remember the last time I wore makeup or perfume."

"Not even at the wedding?" Lori just assumed, since she was too busy trying to fade into the background.

Remembering what she's supposed to be doing, she slowly massages the cream into Scout's shoulder and arm. It's not really any different than what she's done in the past for Rick or Daryl with a pulled muscle. The texture is similar to stretch marks in many places.

"Not even then, much to Honey's displeasure. She thought she was going to get to play makeup artist."

"I still feel weird not wearing makeup all the time." No one really bothers, except for special events or the Friday dancing.

She caps the jar and hands it back to Scout.

"Remind me to dig some of my old stuff out of the attic. I should have Polaroids of Daryl in makeup. He was a sucker as a teenager for letting me and Cricket practice on him."

Lori giggles. "And how much did you actually need practice?"

Scout just grins. She steps away from the cot and stretches before dropping into a yoga pose. Lori watches curiously. She's taken the class one of the women offers, so she sort of recognizes the poses.

"Do you do the poses every night?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"Whatever other exercise is happening." The accompanying grin says she meant it as risque as it sounded.

Lori's lost all the baby weight and she's worked her way back into the same shape as before, but she's not an athlete.

"Scout? Would you be willing to train me?"

Her question is unexpected enough that Scout stills as she unfolds her limbs. Her expression is serious, reminding Lori that Scout does some of the self-defense classes, but not the beginners.

"Are you sure? I push my people through Marine training."

And it's almost brutal in how hard she pushes, but all of the people end up capable. Lori wants to be that capable. She knows she could ask Daryl or even Rick, but they'll hold back.

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Alright. We'll start tomorrow. See if Maggie or Carol can watch Judith."

"One on one?" She isn't sure if that's reassuring or intimidating.

"Best way to get started."

"Okay."

Scout pats the rug next to her. "C'mon. You know these poses, and they'll help you sleep when you're worried about Daryl being away, like they do for me."

It's the first time she thinks she's ever heard Scout hint to worrying about Shane when he's gone. As she mirrors the pose, she catches the blue eyes so similar to Daryl's and smiles softly.

They'll worry, but at least they aren't doing it alone.

~*~ Denise ~*~

Denise lays in her bunk near the door, pretending to read, but really just listening to the tone of the children's conversations as they get ready for bed.

Last night was a rough one for the kids. Natalie and Jeff were still to hyperaware to just lay down and sleep on a regular schedule. Their visible relief when she told them to just keep watch like they usually do is heartbreaking.

She tried to make their adjustment slow and gradual today, because she remembers how overwhelming the bustle of Homestead was at first to her. But they were still uneasy about their surroundings, Jeff and Natalie reaching for guns that are no longer there at any odd sound.

She hated having to leave them to work Gia through the panic attack, but it seems to have worked out for the best. Hearing the radio crackle out that Jazz and Sophia were taking them on a farm animal tour makes her wish she remembered Jazz had the day off.

Natalie thumps onto the bunk across from Denise. The other kids are all tucked into bunks, although they all share. She knows if last night's pattern holds, Natalie will wake Jeff halfway through and trade places with him in the bunk with six-year-old Toby.

"Did you all have a good afternoon with the Dixons?"

Considering they joined Jazz, Sophia, and others for supper, she already has her answer.

"Is he really already halfway to being a vet like Sophia says?"

"Probably, although I would have to ask Hershel about the timeline for his apprenticeship."

"That's why Carol says I could probably have my own place, isn't it? Because they let you decide earlier what you want to do."

"The general idea is to base it on individual maturity for those under eighteen, yes. Typically, they prefer the younger kids to take a while to explore before apprenticing, but one of the fourteen-year-olds is currently at another community learning to be a blacksmith."

"But you can wait to decide, too?"

"Of course. There's no deadline. If you still don't feel a need to apprentice by the time you're eighteen, you'll just be added to the job roster to see where you fit best."

"Jazz was armed today, more than Sophia. She just had a knife. Is that an age thing?"

"More of a personal choice. Sophia's qualified and permitted to carry weapons, but typically doesn't carry a gun except when she's outside this part of the property. She probably checked hers in at the armory when she returned."

Denise knows Jazz's preference is enhanced by Shane's focussed training on his young brother-in-law. The teenager isn't shy at all about meeting with her for counseling every other week. She agrees with Shane's assessment that Jazz's natural need to protect should be honed to reduce the youth's stress levels.

"I guess I need to figure out how to get officially qualified for my gun here, don't I?"

"They have a class on Saturday. Whoever is on duty for the class can get that done for you. But don't be discouraged if you have to have more training first."

The teenager nods. "I wouldn't mind lessons, actually. I'm going to join the self-defense classes too."

Denise is glad to see Natalie's proactive about moving forward. It'll make settling in easier and set an example for the younger kids.

The girl smiles and snags her own book, which Denise can see is one of the foraging guides. She reminds herself to introduce Natalie to Daryl when he returns, if that's where her interests lean, and returns to her own medical text.

Being trusted with responsibility for seven emotionally fragile children seems less intimidating tonight.


	88. Seek and Not Find

**June 2, 2011**

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane's snagging laundry off the lines when the search teams return. He looks down to where Judith's in the chest carrier gumming her teether. They've learned to attach it to her carrier with one of the pacifier clips.

"Nåna's back, baby girl." She responds by blowing a spit bubble at him and waving the drool-covered teether. "Best finish the laundry first though, or your mama will fire us off the laundry crew."

It doesn't take long to finish dropping the clothes into the basket. He drops the basket on the long table inside the laundromat door and the teenager on duty shoos him away while she starts folding. The delay means Anaya's beaten him to the vehicles, but that's to be expected since she always waits on the benches outside the school house when one of her parents is due back.

The frustration of the ongoing hunt lingers in Scout's expression even as she meets his eyes. He just wraps his arms around her and Anaya, watching some of it ease when Judith protests both being squished in the middle and not being able to see Scout.

"Missed you," she says, brushing a kiss across his lips as she pushes back enough to pluck Judith from the carrier. "Where's Lori?"

"Helping Jazz wrangle sheep." The help's probably not absolutely necessary, since Jazz doesn't lack for animal-crazy young helpers at the moment. But if Lori wanted to spend time with her nephew, he's more than happy to fill in with the laundry.

"Has the lambing started then?"

He shakes his head. "Moving the ones he's weaning to new paddocks."

Now that she's got the baby, he snags her duffel, but Anaya tugs it away and heads off toward the laundromat. "You have time to catch a shower before the team meeting."

She scoffs, but begins the trek toward their cabin. "Not much to report other than that damned map and notebook are hopefully a short ticket to hell for the man who made them."

"Damn. Still no solid leads?"

She shakes her head. "We went through the towns along 96 with a fine-tooth comb. Found two dead camps and a lot of gutted stores. Some asshole was a firebug in Junction City. Most of the town's a burned out husk."

Arsonists added to the mix is not something he wants to think about, but it fits the general lawlessness of some groups.

"Should finish the half of the remaining list from the map this week when my teams go out."

"Keep getting the uneasy feeling they're not in one of the larger towns."

"We aren't, so that makes sense. No community that has lasted is actually in a town."

Anything else is cut short as Anaya catches back up to them, taking Scout's free hand. She's coped with the alternating parents out on the search remarkably well after the first couple of weeks. Shane just hopes it ends soon. Everyone needs closure on this particular chapter of things.

~*~ GS ~*~

Gabriel woke up this morning to a pamphlet of instructions, the materials and tools for building raised beds on his balcony-porch, and a note to check in at Greenhouse Two for soil and plants when he was done. While some part of him wants to balk at the blatant guidance of his time, another feels grateful that once again, Carol Dixon's left him little time for idle hands despite his day off the farm crew.

He's dressed in his clerical attire, which he somehow has several changes of despite only coming to Homestead with the clothes on his back. Construction really merits less formal clothing, but with his sins weighing so heavily upon him, he needs the reminder of the man he's supposed to be, rather than the man he _is_.

After his morning trip to the nursing home, years of making minor repairs on the church make the project go quickly enough, although he ends up with beds for more than just his side of things. The other apartment's empty, so he supposes it'll all be his domain for now. He's managed to avoid the group meal for both breakfast and lunch thanks to the tiny kitchenette in the apartment.

No one in Homestead is unwelcoming of his presence here, but they've grown accustomed to Hershel Greene's spiritual leadership. They aren't really looking for a priest so off kilter he can barely manage his own faith most days. It leaves him adrift as to his purpose still, although Carol is right that the elderly are happy enough to have him visit daily.

Realizing there's no more avoiding people in general, he packs away the tools to return to Carol later and dusts off his clothes.

Greenhouse Two is one of a pair of large greenhouses inside the thicket walls. There are a half-dozen more greenhouses its size out on the Eldridge farm, but these two hearken to an ongoing policy of spreading resources out among the properties.

He doesn't see anyone inside the humid building, just rows and rows of seedling plants like he used to see in the plant nurseries each spring and summer. Several panels are open, allowing airflow as the day heats well into the nineties. Even the heat-loving plants would smother in here otherwise.

"Hello?" he calls out. There's a partitioned area near the far side of the greenhouse. If it's like the others he's been in to bring seedlings out to the fields, it's a makeshift office of sorts.

A woman with her blonde hair up in a long ponytail pops out of the office and blushes. He recognizes her as the single mother who lives in the downstairs apartment on the other side of his building. Jessie, he thinks her name is.

"Sorry. Was taking a break. Were you waiting long, Father Gabriel?"

"Not at all. Carol sent me by to pick up soil and plants for the balcony garden project?"

"Ah. Well, she's got a general list of what she wants people to grow, but the actual list is up to you."

"I assume tomatoes and peppers, due to the time of year?" He's grown both at the parsonage, along with a few other vegetables.

"Definitely." She wheels a wagon from it's spot near the door and stops in front of the tomato plants. "These are supposed to be as much for your personal use as turning any excess over to the kitchens, so do you have a favorite?"

"What would do best in the raised beds?"

"Cherry tomatoes, the smaller ones like Romas. The big slicers really need more room and get too spread out."

"Both then."

The easy agreement gets him a gentle smile from the woman, and she loads four plants of each type in the wagon. "Got a pepper preference?"

"Bell and banana. I'm not much of a fan of the jalapeno and hotter varieties."

Those get added in the same quantity as the tomatoes, and he does a mental estimate that he's covered half the beds with allowing for the supports the plants will need later.

"Let's see, what's good for the heat now? Cantaloupe might spread too much and take over the whole porch. Peas and green beans? Maybe crowders, if you like those. Butternut squash, with a good support. Oh! Eggplant."

She smiles and it takes him a minute to realize she's reached the end of her ideas.

"Eggplant, yes. And the crowder peas and green beans."

There's a lot of trellis building in his future, but he's seen the bamboo supports on other balcony gardens that were planted earlier.

She makes a happy sound and loads the selected plants in the wagon. "Do you cook?"

"When I have time, which I suspect I'll have more of here."

She plucks a few other small pots, and he recognizes the herbs more from the trend of them being sold fresh in the supermarket than from personal use. "Basil and mint near the tomatoes and peppers. Oregano wherever, and rosemary with the beans. Parsley goes with most, but not by the mint."

"Did you garden much before?" he asks, curious with the small tidbits she's tossing out about the herbs.

"Honestly? I never even had houseplants. My ex-husband wasn't fond of that sort of hobby. I've just been learning as much as I can since we came here in February. I was a hair stylist before, and I still do that a few days a week if there's need, but it's not in high demand. So I've learned the greenhouses and take a couple of watch relief shifts."

It fit with the information Carol's given him and that he's picked up in his admittedly limited conversations with other residents.

"I suppose this world is made for learning new skills." He gives her a weak smile. "Is there a general method for getting soil to the upper levels?"

"Teenage boys."

The answer's unexpected enough that he actually laughs, which makes her smile.

"Follow me." She tugs the wagon behind her outside the greenhouse. She uses her radio to summon assistance, which appears in the form of a trio of teenagers that she sets to filling buckets and loading onto more rugged wagons than the one his plants are on.

"Shall we go get these planted before Carol thinks you're shirking chores?" she asks. The teasing tone she uses gets him a narrow-eyed look from one of the teens and he tries to give the boy a reassuring smile. It's only partly effective, as he's eyed carefully as the boys finish the job they've been assigned and follow them to his apartment.

He is almost amused. If only the teenager realized just how damaged he is. There's no way he would return the minor flirtation even innocently, not now.

~*~ DD ~*~

Daryl refrains from laughing as his mud and worse spattered wife trudges toward the house. From the wet clothes, she's rinsed the worst of it off before heading to the cabin, but he's glad of the bin on the porch they use to discard work clothes.

"Did the sheep win today?" He can't help teasing just a little. Normally, he is the one covered in muck at the end of the day. Technically, he was, since he got roped into helping Eugene with a project, but he's had time to shower.

"Not one of those ornery little snots won today, despite all efforts otherwise," Lori declares as she flings her sodden T-shirt into the bin and follows it with her cargo pants and socks after kicking her work boots into their own bin.

"Y'all do the castration too?" It's the only thing he can think of to make the project take from lunch until supper time. Lambs are little terrors sometimes, but separating them from the ewes doesn't usually take hours.

She nods, padding into the cabin in her bra and panties. He idly notes that she's developing muscle tone in ways he suspects she's never had since she began her training routine with Scout. Even with Scout out of Homestead for four days, Lori's stuck to it faithfully enough to tire even him out.

"Need company?" he asks before she can make the turn into the bathroom.

"Where are the kids?"

"Abby hightailed it next door when she realized Scout was home and Carl was up at the sports field debating if they had time to swim before supper when I came down here."

She smiles over her shoulder. "Be a shame to get clean clothes wet, wouldn't it?"

He can take a hint.

~*~ Oscar ~*~

"Your lady's looking awfully proud of herself," Oscar says as Axel sits down with his tray. Both of his fellow former inmates are sitting with him tonight, probably because he's at the table nearest where they can make puppy eyes at their respective ladies working on the supper shift.

Axel isn't eyeing Angela like she's the last drink of water in the middle of the Sahara tonight, though. Oscar's used to Axel's ongoing surprise at Angela's continued interest. If he were a negative man, he'd even use the term 'whipped' at how much Axel follows Angela's lead. But that's not him, not anymore, and honestly, he envies the older redneck his relationship with the pretty Latina thirteen years his junior.

Axel doesn't answer right away, which is definitely odd for the chatterbox. Oscar nudges Tiny, hoping he might have a clue since Melina and Angela work so closely together, but the big man looks as puzzled as Oscar.

"Anybody home?" he asks, reaching out to rattle the tray in front of the older man.

That finally startles Axel out of his stupor. He blinks a few times and reaches in his shirt pocket to retrieve a small square of paper.

Oscar pulls the ultrasound in close, recognizing the tiny blobs well enough from his own children's early ultrasounds. "I don't know whether to congratulate you or wonder how fast you'll go bald, man."

"Twins?" Tiny says, leaning in to study the ultrasound photo.

"I did not expect Cricket to draw in Baby A and B on that screen," Axel manages at last. "Angela just decided to stop that shot of hers last month, and all those cautions about it could take months."

"Apparently, you're making up for lost time?" Oscar teases. "You are a bit on the elderly side for a first time father."

"Shut up about that, man. Was worried enough about the idea of being a father when she talked me 'round to it, and now there's two?" Axel runs his hand through his hair nervously.

"You act like you don't get along with the kids here at all," Tiny says. "When you been teaching the school kids how to work on small engines down there at the garage."

While several teenagers drift in and out of informal and formal lessons on the vehicles and larger farm equipment that Jim and Rosia host, it was Axel who had the idea to teach the younger interested kids how to work on the weed eaters and other small equipment used on property. Oscar is still impressed himself at watching an eleven-year-old disassemble and reassemble one of the boat motors used by the foraging teams.

"Babies are different. Kids can tell you what they need." Oscar's surprised to see an actual tremor in Axel's hands as he retrieves the ultrasound and tucks it back in his pocket. His friend ducks his head as he adds one last bit. "Ain't got no damn idea about babies."

"Seems like there's a pretty easy solution to that problem."

"What's that?"

"Offer to babysit." Oscar points to where Christian's escaped his high chair and is toddling between relatives at supper, begging bites and wandering to the next. "Betcha Cricket could use a break now and then."

Their youngest doctor may not look as pregnant as her counterparts, but Oscar can't imagine any woman edging toward her third trimester turning down babysitting. Christian's young enough to still be a baby, but old enough not to feel fragile to a man not used to babies.

"Think she'd be okay with that?"

Of the three of them, Axel seems to be the one with the most hangups about his former incarceration.

"Wouldn't suggest it if I thought she'd be offended, man."

Axel finally smiles, one hand held over the pocket with the ultrasound. "Damn, man. I'm gonna be a daddy to _twins_."

This time, his friends' amusement only makes the redneck grin even bigger.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

Maybe it's because they had spent so much time with Jazz sharing his music, but collecting his own copies has been the solace Jesus needs to keep the almost overwhelming quiet of his trailer at bay.

At least one benefit of the apocalypse is free access to all the CDs he likes. He doesn't dare listen while out on runs, not even with Oso's senses on guard, but the two trips he's taken outside the gates, he's brought back a handful of treasures. Some are new to him, with others being old favorites.

The knock at the door rouses him from his half drowsy state listening to the current CD. It's obviously not Enid, because the girl doesn't knock, and it's not Olivia, because she would knock only as a warning that she's coming in. He pads over to answer the door, surprised to see Aaron and Eric waiting.

"We had some mechanical issues coming back from an eastern run. Hilltop was closer," Aaron explains, smiling a little sheepishly. "Olivia thought we might crash here?"

Both men have hiking packs like Jesus uses on extended trips with their sleeping bags, so he nods and steps back to let them enter the tiny living room. He notes they can't resist looking around curiously, although he doesn't blame them. He was the same the first time in their home.

"Saint Saëns?" Eric remarks, tilting his head to listen to the music still playing as he eases his pack to the floor.

Jesus nods. The CD doesn't contain the oboe piece that was the reason Jazz had the composer on his list, but he likes the other works more than he expected. "A friend's recommendation. Classical wasn't really in my realm of knowledge before."

"Most people go for Mozart or Bach or similar to learn." Eric picks up the CD case. "This must have been interesting to find. Not exactly something that would be in a Best Buy."

Considering the date on the back of the CD is 1997, Jesus agrees. "Raided the band room at the local high school," he admits.

Eric laughs. "That's a resource we haven't tried, Aaron."

The other man just smiles. "I think you've got a large enough collection as it is."

Despite the words seeming to indicate a lack of interest, Jesus would bet his favorite knife that the couple will be following his example if Eric's really interested in finding more music.

"Do you play?" he asks. It always seems that most lovers of classical music are musicians themselves.

"As a hobby, yes. Regularly, not since college. Alexandria has many things, but a piano isn't one of them."

"And I can't see Deanna approving of the effort to haul one back," Aaron says.

Both men take a seat when Jesus indicates and he fills the kettle. They're both tea drinkers, although he doesn't know if it's by preference, or like him, a habit picked up out of necessity in the last year.

"If you ever get the chance to visit Homestead, they have one in the community center. One of their people was a band teacher before and still gives lessons. They can put together a tiny orchestra at this point."

He leans against the counter, waiting on the water to boil. "That might be a selling point to Deanna, you know. Music lessons for the kids. I'm sure Carol would be happy to explain her reasoning on why they do it."

Eric is tapping along unconsciously to the still playing music. "It helps relax you when you study, improves memory, and aids with math skills. Early training in music actually boosts brain development in kids. And that's just listening to music. Lessons increase the benefits, and adds in fine motor skill improvements."

That makes a vague connection in Jesus's brain stronger. Jazz did mention he started lessons young to improve coordination.

"Sounds like you've got most of the reasoning down already."

Aaron looks thoughtful. "He's right, and I'll bet you aren't the only one who can teach. Maybe we pitch it to Spencer instead of his mother though."

That catches Jesus's attention as he readies the tea. "Spencer? He's still stepping up now that his mother's up and about again?"

"Yeah. Even far enough to have butted heads with her a couple of times on changes that need to be made. We've got guards on the gates finally, and they're working on cameras now that we know what to look for," Aaron says.

"That's a huge improvement right there. You can't cover everything, and that gets worse the larger the property, but to not make the effort at all? I think I'm still amazed y'all got so lucky no one violent found you first."

"We would end up overrun, even now, if someone did." Aaron looks a little exasperated. "Deanna's still holding strong on not training everyone, just supply runners, so Spencer's opting for escape routes and safe houses to meet up in."

"Is that what you two were out doing?"

"Yeah. We don't want to just hand out the other community locations, since that's a security risk. But if we have a few safe havens, our people can flee and wait on reinforcements."

It was the sticking point of the alliance agreement. No one wanted to force any ally to essentially create a small militia if they weren't inclined to, but it's why he suspects Alexandria will continue to be the Achilles heel of the Virginia communities.

"I know of a few locations that might work well that we could get to quickly and defend. I'll ride out with y'all tomorrow and show you."

"That would be much appreciated."

Eric's doing more fiddling with his mug than drinking the tea. "Can we ask your honest opinion on something?"

He nods.

"Honey's less than diplomatic in reminding us we're welcome at Homestead, and the smaller group definitely appeared to be inclusive. Is that the reality there, or just a small segment of the population."

"I can't speak for everyone there, obviously, but I didn't see any signs of problems when I was there. Honey's older sister is married to a woman, and you've met Christopher and Tim. Denise might be a better advisor on it though, because she's lived there and not as a member of Clan Dixon."

He's honest enough with himself to know that his viewpoint could be a sheltered one.

"We've agreed to visit in the fall. Eric thinks there's more potential for us as a family there, although with Spencer stepping up, things may change at Alexandria."

Aaron's soft smile at his partner makes Jesus's loneliness flare up, just a little. He reminds himself of the potential in his future by a pat to the vest pocket where Jazz's letter is safely secured along with the Polaroid of him, Honey, and Logan.

Just like the couple before him is being patient with their future plans, he can be too. He just wishes they could get the radio-email project finished. He misses interaction with all of them.

Noticing that they've finished their tea, he collects the mugs. "It might be more comfortable for you two to take the bedroom," he suggests. "I can take the couch."

Eric glances to the well-worn couch. "I don't think it's fair to kick you out to that poor excuse for furniture. Can you even fit on it?"

He laughs. "The joys of being shorter than you two is that yes, I can fit on the couch, and we won't have to move things around for you to have space for your sleeping bags." Fitting just Jazz's in here, when he and Logan stayed with Jesus, was a tight fit all by itself.

"If you're sure." At his nod, Eric stands and reaches for his pack. "Would a shower be too much to hope for?"

"Help yourself."

He busies himself with washing the mugs after Eric disappears. Aaron sits pensively at the table, fiddling with the CD case. He's so quiet it startles Jesus when he does speak.

"He wants children. I don't want to get his hopes up and it end up a pipe dream even in Georgia."

"I can't speak for adoption availability, because that hinges on factors no one really wants to think about on orphaning a kid, but you wouldn't be excluded from consideration there. Seems to be really up to the kid more than any of the adults."

"Like Logan?"

"Yeah. There are a lot of adopted kids there, and it seems the kids decided where they wanted to be." He thinks about the other factor. "I don't know that anyone would offer to surrogate, but I can't say that it's an impossibility either in the right situation."

At his age, future children aren't really something he really thinks about, but he can see where Aaron and Eric have reached the point of it being a factor.

"I don't think Eric cares either way, on adoption versus biology."

"And you?"

"I always figured adoption would be on the table one day, once we weren't trailing through Africa."

The shower cuts off and Aaron shakes off his pensive mood. "So, when are you giving in to peer pressure and moving to Georgia?"

It makes him laugh. "Probably the day after Honey kidnaps me?"

Even if it's just for the night, he's glad to have friends close.


	89. Only a Matter of Time

**June 15, 2011**

~*~ CP ~*~

"After the twins last week, I'm half tempted to go with 'oh, look who's been hiding'," Cricket says, tone sassy as she grins at her father and stepmother. She's got the ultrasound gel on Carol's now rounded belly, but she's holding the wand up while teasing. "But I really don't want to do CPR on Daddy this afternoon."

Merle chuckles, brushing his thumb across Carol's knuckles where he's holding her hand. "You'd need Carol in on the prank to pull that off, missy, and I have seen a few ultrasounds over the years now."

More than a few, considering the past few months. While most of the pregnancies are intentional, their birth rate by fall is just mind boggling.

Carol pretends to reach for the wand with her free hand. "Pregnant lady with a full bladder here," she warns.

Cricket gives her a bashful smile and drops the wand to her belly. She glances to where the rest of the children, minus Scout, are gathered and takes in their happy expressions.

"Look at those little fingers. And that nose," the young doctor exclaims. "Waving at us, to boot. Must take after Daddy."

"Someone's full of sass today."

Entranced by the baby moving on the screen, Carol's only half-hearing the banter between father and daughter. The baby's waving hand changes directions and seems to bop itself in the face a few times before managing to suck its thumb.

Cricket takes the measurements quickly, knowing that babies don't always stay calm and cooperative once there's pressure on the belly. "All's good there. Let me see if I can get a good profile print of that thumb sucking. That's just adorable."

The machine hums with the printouts before Cricket looks over at them. "I'm going to hazard a guess that the current Dixon trend toward girls holds up. Any guesses?"

"I figure you're probably right." Merle grins at Carol after he agrees and looks toward the younger part of their brood.

"We're all thinking girl, except Honey, who has to be the oddball," Sophia says cheerfully.

Carol studies the baby for a second and smiles. "As novel as a baby boy would be for me, I think you're both right. And your little girl and Judith need a third musketeer."

Cricket's expression is happy as she begins to move the wand. "Where does that leave Michonne's little girl?"

"Organizing all the boys into her own private militia."

Maybe causing her doctor to laugh while running the ultrasound delays their answers, but it's worth it. It's a little sad that Andrea's baby boy won't be part of that militia, but Carol likes both of the potential fathers. The boy will thrive with either man.

"The three musketeers it is."

Carol squeezes Merle's hand. "Ready for daughter number five?"

"Absolutely."

He leans in for a tender kiss and she revels in the absolute joy on his face and the cheerful chaos from their children.

~*~ Scout ~*~

For a man whose military training all began in the past year, Scout sometimes thinks Christopher missed his calling. Between herself and Tim, she supposes she can't be surprised. Neither of them intend to put the nurse at risk.

He's almost eerily quiet as he follows along behind her. There's people in residence in a small RV park they're now in position to observe.

It's been weeks since the children's camp was inspected, and they eliminated all of the tagged towns. This week is a painful slog of the open area in between.

"Only males in the camp from this angle. Count three," Daryl says over the throat radio.

"Same here," Jamie adds.

"Four," Scout corrects. "There's a guy asleep inside one of the RVs."

"Watch guy is alert," Jamie adds.

"Watch guy looks familiar," Carlos says. "Permission to approach?"

"If you think it's safe." Scout glances to the next position in the ring around the camp. She can't see Carlos or Tanaka clearly from here.

"Pretty sure he's one of the Vatos that split in Atlanta. Other guys aren't at the right angle, but might be the others."

Five guys left back in Atlanta, so Carlos is likely right. "Be careful."

Carlos stands, calling out in Spanish. Scout holds herself tense with her finger on the trigger as every man in the camp turns toward him, guns aimed. Beside her, Christopher takes a deep breath, preparing to fire if this goes badly.

"Carlos?" The watch stander holsters his gun and the others follow suit at his signal. "You still alive after leaving with the military?"

Scout's surprised that the reply is in English, but not all the Vatos seem as fluent as others in Spanish. She knows little about the ones who left, other than that their Vatos deemed them unlikely to ever be a threat.

"Alive and doing better than you sitting in the middle of nowhere, Aarón."

Aarón laughs. "You do look well fed. You still running with the people who took the grandmas with them? They keep their promises?"

"Yeah. Got a nice setup for G and Felipe to take care of the old ones. My abuela died around New Years and they took good care of her all the way to her funeral."

"Damn. Sorry to hear about your abuela. She was a good woman." Aarón shifts, looking around. "Guess that means you're not out here by yourself."

"No, got my teams with me. We've been looking for the bastard who attacked in Atlanta."

"Not friendly for them to keep hidden."

Carlos makes a show of activating his throat radio and giving the all clear.

Scout follows it up with, "Rachel, your team stay out of sight." It isn't that she really thinks these men will attack, but their standard procedure by now is to always keep one team out of sight.

Tanaka is the first into view, stepping next to his partner, and Scout and Christopher step into the clearing. It takes a bit longer for Jamie's team, along with Daryl and Elias, to step into view, since they gather before entering the clearing. No point in revealing just how surrounded the camp was.

"So, the Angel still leads her men into battle," Aarón remarks, smiling broadly at Scout as she approaches.

She arches a brow. "I wasn't aware that anyone but G used that nickname." He actually still does.

"It is suiting, although I suspect you are far closer to the Archangel Michael that the soft guardians people seem to see angels as these days."

Rather than reply, she tugs her dog tags out of her collar, giving him the barest hint of a smile as she displays the St. Michael medallion. From her own Vatos, she knows these men are probably Catholic the same way she is - lapsed - but a shared background is always a step in the right direction.

Aarón simply grins. "You are looking for the Governor?"

"We have been searching this part of the state since we finally got our people safely secured. We've found evidence of areas he's destroyed, or that at least fit the pattern of Atlanta, but not his town yet."

"Perhaps there's validity in the saints after all, Angel. Because we know exactly where the man is."

There's a glint in the man's eyes, that steely expression she recognizes in her own. "You five left to go find him."

He nods, rubbing at his neatly trimmed beard. "We did much the same. Searching for the destruction his people leave in their wake. The information you were given in Atlanta is correct. He has a town."

"And you know where it is… what do we need to know to take the man down?"

That gets grins out of both of Aarón's men, the expressions more grim than they should be. But with revenge as their fuel, she understands. She feels the same. The man's hurt her people, even if they became her people after the fact.

"Right now? We're about forty-five minutes away. They rarely come this way anymore, choosing to expand their search further and further south. The town is called Woodbury."

"It sounds like we have a lot to discuss, my friend."

Aarón waves her to a seat with a smile that promises many dark things for their shared enemy.

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane sees the council members and team leaders who are on property filing into the meeting room from his vantage point in the watch room. Merle's at his side, also listening as Scout reports in. Nichelle's leaning against a wall, having given up her seat to the men, but Mandy's still keeping an eye on the cameras.

Scout signs off at last, leaving Shane to exchange a look with Merle that is both wary - and relieved. Their search is over.

He gathers the notes he's made and follows Merle into the other room.

"Calling team leaders and council. Scout's found something," he hears Glenn say quietly to Jacqui.

"Good. Those vermin have lasted too long."

Shane's not surprised at the venom in the older woman's voice. Jacqui's one of the Homesteaders working with the seven foundlings, all of whom respond well to her mentorship.

They slide into empty seats and Shane wishes Scout was here. Despite her insistence that council membership isn't a long-term ambition for her, they've always both been present.

"To answer the comments as we came in, yes, Scout's found a solid clue to the whereabouts of the Governor. Our Vatos that declined to come north started their search earlier than we did, and they located his home base," he tells everyone.

"Where's the bastard holed up?" Tyreese asks.

"Woodbury."

Hershel looks thoughtful. "That's not that far from my old farm. Next county over."

"What do you know about the town?"

"Small town, about a thousand people before. Just big enough they had their own police force, pretty much like Conns Creek."

"That close to Hershel's old place makes me glad we eliminated that group preying on folks there. Last thing anyone would need is more monsters for him to recruit," Ryan says.

It's not something Shane's considered, and yes, he's equally glad that Scout's people encountered that group first. There's no guarantee the Governor would have taken them in, as their information indicates the man's careful about introducing threats to his own power. But the thought that he might have nearly two dozen rapists? That's nightmare stuff.

"He's got a large enough force as it is." Large enough that Shane's grateful they've not considered anyone truly a civilian here at Homestead. Even Mandy, wheelchair bound as she is, receives adapted training.

"How many?" Amanda Shepherd's tactical mind is already spinning, Shane can tell.

"In his able-bodied militia, about fifty. If he pulls up able civilians, he could double that number."

Expressions of concern wash over everyone's faces. Homestead has forty-four officially on run teams, with a half-dozen or so that regularly serve as substitutes.

But the other teams regularly at Homestead are ready and able as well. Merle's building crew easily adds another twenty to their own ranks, and those folks can't be considered civilians. Hell, Shane wouldn't even consider their cooking staff to be civilians at this point.

But those less trained for fighting will be the defenders left behind. No plan they can make will leave Homestead undefended, not with their vulnerable elderly and school children.

"How certain are we on those numbers?" Carol asks. She doesn't look alarmed, merely calculating.

"Very confident. Scout's teams located our wayward Vatos that left in Atlanta, and those crafty assholes actually got a man on the inside."

"That's good news. How did they manage that?" Carol's tapping her pen against her cheek, and Shane wonders what idea she's got percolating.

"The man recognized one of the Governor's men as the older brother of his former cellmate. He took the risk that they wouldn't kill him on sight and got recruited in. He's been feeding information back to the four left outside ever since."

He looks down to his notes before continuing. "The Governor allows small-scale recruiting of useful fighters like that. With civilians, it's not exactly random on who they destroy and who they bring in, but they've got an overall population of about a hundred and seventy-five."

"So about seventy-five too old, young, or inexperienced to fight?" Carol asks. "How much does the populace know of what their town does?"

That's the big question. Razing the whole town to the ground makes them monsters just like the man leading it.

"Daniel, their man on the inside, thinks the public is largely ignorant of the destruction being ordered. They bring in just enough of the vulnerable to keep up the illusion that they're a sanctuary. Any group large enough to be a threat, especially one with men, is usually eliminated."

Carol turns to Hershel, still tapping that pen against her cheek. "Is there a way to safely drug the populace? Even the untrained will fight back if they think they're being invaded."

"We'll need to research it, considering the danger to anyone with pre-existing conditions we can't fully allow for." The veterinarian is definitely mulling it over. "But we have access to several substances that would incapacitate on a large scale if we can get access to the food or water supply."

From his time with the sheriff's department, Shane can think of a few too, especially if Hershel's the one thinking it over. Ketamine alone would probably do the trick, but it would be extremely dangerous to the young or elderly.

"Do you think Daniel would consider sabotage?" she asks Shane.

"From Scout's description, the man already would have if they had the knowledge and supplies, and enough manpower to finish the job."

"Will we be eliminating all of the militia there or going on a case-by-case basis?" Amanda asks.

It reminds Shane of the spectre of the Grady executions that remains between himself and Amanda. She's never made an issue of it, and he suspects she's probably loyal to a fault at this point, but that knowledge remains.

"I would suggest that it depends on how we have to take them on. As a fighting force, we'll have to consider that some might survive and surrender," he replies.

"And that if we are able to incapacitate, we'll have to review all of them," Merle says.

Scout eliminated the group near Hershel's farm down to the last man, without mercy or consideration. It's one of the reasons she doesn't want to be left as the sole leadership of their own security. After Grady, and the survivors there advocating on the part of some of their captors' tarnished innocence, no one really wants wholesale execution.

"Like Grady?" Amanda asks.

"Like Grady. Although it sounds like we'll be relying more on interviews just among the militia members. If Daniel's correct that the public there is largely ignorant of their methods, their testimony won't be worth as much as the Grady civilians'."

"And what do we do with the civilians?" Tyreese is looking concerned. "We could absorb that many, if we had to, but it would mean utilizing the abandoned houses in the expansion."

"We'll have to consider that when we get to it. They may not trust us enough to immigrate. They've got a safe place now, and if the able but untrained step up, they should still have enough to protect the town even if we eliminate their entire militia."

Merle turns to Carol as he finishes that assessment. "We should plan on immigrants. Even if the majority want to hold their town, some may not want to stay once the ugly underbelly is exposed."

"I'll divert who I can to ready a few of the houses, starting with the ones with fencing."

They've added layers upon layers to the defenses now, but not all the housing areas have secondary fencing yet. Shane's seen the supplies being gathered near his cabin to enclose the whole mini-neighborhood with a six-foot high fence… just in case. They've already built one around the community center and nursing home.

"For internal security, we need to formalize teams here in Homestead," he says. "Make sure everyone has a place in the defense and knows it."

Merle looks to Karen. "You and Carol meet up and set up the leaders for that."

The two women exchange a look and nod. It's an advantage of sorts, having Karen stepping back from the field due to her pregnancy. It makes him glad they have a handful of former military and law enforcement who aren't on run teams in addition to women like Karen and Michonne.

Above all else, Homestead can't be left vulnerable.

"What sort of timeline are we looking at?" Abraham asks. The burly man isn't seated, choosing instead to prop against the wall near the exterior door.

"Scout's teams are gathering all the information they can, confirming Daniel's intel." His wife is serious enough about it that she may not be returning on schedule tomorrow. "At least two weeks, since we've got to get word to Daniel and that's on a certain schedule."

It's a security vulnerability any large community shares. Not all walls can be monitored at all times of the day.

"Alright. If it's okay with the council, I'm going to step up my training classes. Offer them every other night instead of just on Saturday mornings."

Considering Abraham's popularity in teaching brawling techniques of self-defense to the women and teens of Homestead, none of the council raise any objections to that.

"We'll keep everyone apprised as new reports come in, but for now, at least we've got the end goal in sight." Merle stands, effectively ending the meeting.

The others disperse, leaving the council standing near their seats. The team leaders will spread the word of the success of the scouting team, Shane has no doubt.

Patricia looks thoughtful. "I'm going to institute weather drills for the children and elderly," she says at last.

"We don't have any evidence they're aware of us or our location," Merle notes. "But better safe than sorry."

Shane nods. "I'm going to take my team over to Terminus in the morning and get them updated."

"We'll sub that for the weekly trip then, so check in with Lenore about the produce delivery," Carol says. "Their gardens are doing well, but they don't have everything we have here yet."

Merle laughs. "And less for your people to can and freeze?"

That gets everyone smiling. The bounty of June fruit crops isn't just from Homestead's orchards and blueberry bushes. Glenn's been leading more teams on harvesting orchards and berry farms gone wild than on gathering supplies from old stores lately.

There are dozens of bushel baskets of peaches and nectarines waiting to be processed, on top of the last of the strawberry harvests and the beginnings of the blueberry and blackberry crops. Neither community will lack for nutritional variety.

Carol tucks her notebook away with a smile. "I'm going to go find Karen and get started. Patricia? Since you're wanting to do drills, might as well sit in."

The two women trail out with Hershel and Tyreese following. Shane takes the time to look over his notes one more time before realizing Merle's still in the room.

"Something wrong?" he asks. He knows the ultrasound went well today, because that news spread so fast across Homestead he heard it from a non-Dixon before a Dixon.

"Just an uneasy feeling, about like I had when this all started."

"Patricia seems worried about our own security. We can step it up a few notches without scaring the children, I think."

"Maybe we should spread the armory supplies out a little more. A few more gun safes like we have at mine and yours."

Shane thinks about the stashes that do exist in a few places, mostly the law enforcement and military households. "Yeah, better to be paranoid than underprepared. We can route a few teams to collect a few more gun safes for the smaller locations, if you can build in ones like yours."

And his own. They have an under-the-floor cache in his own cabin that would have made him think drug or arms dealer back in his deputy days.

Now? It's just insurance, the same way he began working with Anaya at the range after one of her tenth birthday presents was a Mossberg Mini. The fact that the youth shotgun is a scaled down version of the weapon he favored on duty amuses Rick, but Shane hasn't missed that Carl's handgun of choice is a damned revolver either.

He hopes to God that neither kid experiences turning a gun on a human being the way Jazz has had to, or the kid rescued so recently, but he'll be damned if they aren't prepared.

~*~ DD ~*~

Daryl can't help but admire Scout's almost silent trek through the woods. It's so close to dusk it's unlikely anyone from Woodbury will be out of their walled town, and lighting too dim to be spotted. They left their usual partners behind, since Scout felt Daryl the best partner for a night spent among the trees to observe.

From Aarón's information, the militia may be made up of former military personnel, but Daryl's guessing no one of real leadership capability. They've collected weapons and ammo, but neglected to put anything like night vision goggles to use.

They're so confident that the town only needs to be protected from mindless walkers that they've left themselves vulnerable. It makes him glad Homestead's run by the slightly paranoid.

The area of the wall they're approaching now is a complete blind spot, according to Aarón. They have gates on the north and south sides of town, and for some insane reason, no patrols on the eastern or western walls despite there being housing and commercial buildings in the area.

"Not the spot I would have picked," he mutters quietly to Scout as they reach a perch on top of a building abandoned long before the world ended. The trees behind it have branches over reaching the roof, providing them with extra cover and allowing them a safer surface than a tree branch to spy from.

"Where we are?" she pauses in getting her night vision gear out, obviously concerned about him objecting.

"Nah. The town. We passed better areas for it. They're right here in the downtown, right on the highway."

She thinks it over and nodded. "The elementary school and market area would have been better."

"They're trying too hard for normal, I guess."

He assesses the enclosed area, guessing it's only about twenty acres. How in the hell the man thinks it'll support the population he has, Daryl doesn't know. If nothing else, he should have expanded the walls by now. Took in the neighborhood to the east for cropland.

He can see gardens, but nothing on the scale needed to truly feed a community this size. Relying on scavenging and raids is dangerously short-term. With no more factories producing goods for the grocery stores, any community that doesn't adapt is set up to fail once the canned goods run out.

"I'm guessing the Governor doesn't actually have the skills for the logistics needed. Easy enough to look competent if you bring in supplies, and the people are probably too afraid of the outside to think about the fact that gasoline and grocery store raids won't last forever."

Daryl sighs. "Part of me is hoping the civilians want to stay put."

That gets him an amused look from Scout. "You realize that if we wipe out their militia and leave them here, we still have to teach them to protect themselves. Otherwise, they're another Terminus waiting to happen."

"Don't remind me." Not that Terminus didn't learn from their mistakes. A large group, like the militia here, could maybe overrun the prison, but those people would take most of them down with them. He sure as hell wouldn't recommend Terminus as any kind of soft target.

"End's in sight," she says softly. "You'll be back to your hunting and fishing expeditions soon."

He takes comfort from her easy confidence, like he always has. She's right. Now that they've found the bastard, it's only a matter of time and planning.

_A/N: _

_Woodbury notes: For the purposes of the AU, I completely threw out the show's location (since it was filmed in Senoia) and used the geography of actual Woodbury. That's the lovely part of an AU and not having a filming budget. :) So, if the geography/etc seems off, that's why. If you like a visual helper, just peek on Google maps for Woodbury and assess the area south of Highway 109, east of Dromeday St, north of Folk Ave, and west of Willow St. Woodbury's population is larger than ever officially stated in the show, partly to make it an actual danger to Homestead, which as of June 2011, has a population of 250._


	90. Fall of the Governor, Part 1

**June 30, 2011**

~*~ EP ~*~

Eugene lies in the darkened bedroom, glad he fell asleep before unplugging the fairy lights that decorate the wall above their bed in the cabin loft. They've only been moved in for three weeks, but the space is uniquely theirs in a way he's never known. The glow of the lights makes Honey seem ethereally beautiful where she's using him as her pillow.

"Did you sleep at all?"

Honey raises up on one elbow, smiling sleepily down at him. Her long, dark hair cascades over her shoulder and onto his chest, luring him to curl the ends around his fingers.

"Approximately three hours, sometime after midnight."

His dreams are unsettled in a way they haven't been since arriving at Homestead, and he doesn't need any expert to interpret them. Waking in a cold sweat and having to verify that Honey's okay tells him everything. He's spent the last half hour just watching her sleep.

"It'll all be alright," she assures him.

The trip to Virginia showed him he was ready to be outside the walls. He's killed enough walkers now that anyone with a lesser memory probably wouldn't bother to keep count, but each one is proof to him that he's not the coward he was a year ago.

"While I comprehend the logic of me staying behind at Homestead, I dearly wish I were going along on your mission today."

He's a good shot with a rifle, better than many going today, but he's not better than anyone on Honey's team. He's also honest enough to admit that if it came to hand-to-hand combat, he prefers the ex-Army Ranger at her back instead of himself. Tim loves Honey, in his unique, erratic way, and the rest of her team is family.

"I'm glad you aren't, to be honest." She brushes a kiss against his pulse in his throat. "Walkers are one thing. I hope you never have to kill a person."

That's a count that she has that he doesn't. Each of them weighs on her, a tarnish to her bright soul that he's not sure anyone's seen but him. Abraham assures him that none of the Wolves deserved to live.

Eugene wishes they could die all over again, just for the tears Honey has shed. He doesn't think those monsters' lives would weigh on his soul the way they do hers.

"You have to get ready soon," he says, avoiding making the admission that he has far less conscience than his girlfriend.

She tilts her head to peer at the clock. "Not just yet."

That's all the warning he gets before she's kissing him and hooking her leg to roll him atop her. He returns the kiss with all the pent up worry and love he's felt through the night.

If she wants to forget what today's mission is all about for a little while longer, that is certainly within his realm of capability.

~*~ SW ~*~

It takes over two weeks of careful surveillance and communication with their man on the inside before it's time to make their move on Woodbury.

The Governor is not a tactician. It becomes obvious very early on, since his teams leave Woodbury like clockwork. They leave and return by the same paths.

Shane knows their own system isn't foolproof, but no team takes the same route to or from Homestead two runs in a row. It sometimes means wasting fuel to circle around and back, but until the Governor is dealt with, everyone allows for the cautious paranoia.

Based on the pattern, today at least ten men will leave Woodbury and go on a supply run to the fringes of Columbus. It's a dangerous but fruitful expedition that brings supplies back to show off to the unsuspecting public.

"You ready for this?" he asks Scout, pitching his voice as low as possible. She's rechecking supplies, one last time, brow furrowed.

When she looks up, he can already see that disconnected state she hit before Terminus and Grady settling in. But she blinks and nods, taking a step close to hug him. It's a little unexpected, so he takes comfort from it. They won't be at each other's sides today.

"Be careful. The girls and I need you," she says, and it takes his brain a minute to pull the English from the Chamorro. "Love you."

"Just as much as we need you," he replies. "I love you, too." He worries sometimes about her sense of self-preservation. He knows she'd die to protect her team… any of the teams really.

She smiles a little wanly, going back to the supplies and a quiet conversation with Jamie and Danny. Despite all the others trained around them, the trio of Marines seems to need the closeness in the pre-dawn light.

They're putting twenty teams of four into the field today. Eighty men and women, all of whom have killed walkers and few who have killed people. By nightfall? He mourns how that number will likely have changed.

Rick's standing with Lori and a sleepy Carl, making Shane wonder where their other halves are. They woke the girls and took them all up to the main house just after four a.m. He doesn't think much work other than feeding people will happen today.

He accepts the hug from Carl when he approaches. "You gonna keep an eye out for your mama and sisters today?"

The teenager grumbles. "Pretty sure Mama can take care of herself, but sure."

Rick and Lori laugh, but Shane just grins. Lori's trained hard in the five weeks since she asked Scout to work with her. Marine boot camp is thirteen weeks, and he thinks Scout's compressed it down to about six.

"You're right there, buddy. Definitely wouldn't say no to your mama at my back today."

It says a lot for how their relationship changed in a year that it's both an honest statement and that Lori believes him.

With leaving barely more than forty defense capable adults behind at Homestead, he's glad so many of their people took the lessons of Grady and Terminus seriously.

Three of today's field teams are composed entirely of Grady survivors. Terminus will put two more teams in the field to join them at a midpoint.

The Governor will create no more victims like the children he found.

Daryl appears from whatever errand he needed, and Rick and Shane step away as the younger man envelops Carl and Lori into a bear hug.

"Where's Rosita?"

"Probably terrifying her team through one more drill."

With nine of today's teams barely formed just for today's mission, Shane supposes he can't blame Rosita. He has the advantage that he, Rick, and T-Dog have been in the field together for nearly a year.

Danny could have led his own team again, but he decided to stay with them. T-Dog's old partner Maria is the badass leading one of the Grady teams, so he isn't surprised to see the man in a serious conversation with her near one of the Humvees.

"Has Dixie stopped looking at Rosita like she's going to propose?" The Terminus survivor, one of four adults who stayed at Homestead, is anxious to do everything right.

Rick laughs and shrugs. "I think most of the hero worship has passed."

Shane finds his elbow captured and sees Cricket grinning softly. "You two are going to keep each other safe today, right? No foolish heroics."

"Of course." He and Rick both get a lingering hug from his sister-in-law, complete with the baby greeting them with big thumps as well.

"Good." She waggles a finger at Rick. "Remember, you aren't a cat with nine lives."

"Why do you lecture me and not Shane?"

"Because he's less likely to think he's Superman in a firefight."

She's probably right. If it meant exposure to save someone, his partner wouldn't even hesitate to see if there's a safer angle.

"I'm going to go finish helping Tara with her body armor plates." She jabs at both of them, nodding happily when she encounters resistance from the body armor, and kisses their cheeks before leaving.

He levels a serious look at Rick. "Don't take any unnecessary chances out there today, brother."

Hopefully the hug Rick answers him with is making a promise instead of avoiding one.

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle stands still as Carol carefully goes over his gear, humoring her nerves. She checked everything last night, but she can't seem to settle. It's probably the pregnancy making her so flustered about him leaving, since he's been on this sort of mission before.

Then again, neither of the others had this kind of warning to spawn worry beforehand. It's not just him gripping her with worry. Most of their family will be in the field today. It makes him glad that Jazz, competent and trained as he is, didn't argue for joining a field team like some of the older teenagers did.

As her fingers still at last, he reaches out and cups her face in his hands. "At the risk of quoting my unlamented father, nothing kills a Dixon but a Dixon."

The silliness makes her smile, even if it's not up to her normal standards. "If you don't take care of yourself today, I may test that theory."

"Wouldn't that defeat the purpose, Mama?" Sophia chirrups, looking far too awake for the early hour. She's got an arm around Logan's shoulders and thrusts the younger boy forward into a squishy group hug as soon as Carol gives her room.

He holds their two youngest close, meeting Jazz's eyes where he stands just behind Carol. His son responds to the unspoken question by laying a hand on Carol's shoulder, which makes her smile up at him.

"Group hug!" Honey flings herself into the embrace, grinning like a lunatic.

He's just grateful that she's capable of such joyful levity. Unlike many going out today, Honey does know what taking a human life is like.

Any more farewells are interrupted by Scout honking the horn of her Humvee. Honey brushes a kiss across Carol's cheek and hugs her hard enough to lift her off her feet before dragging her brother into the hug. For once, Jazz leans into the unexpected contact.

His "I love you guys" is returned in chorus.

"Dad?"

Logan's voice stops him as he starts to follow Honey once she answers the summons to join her team.

"Yeah, son?"

"You aren't fighting walkers today, right?"

The irony of the world, where the poor boy is more terrified of the walking dead than the infinitely more dangerous human monsters they'll hunt today.

"Probably not. Just finding the bad people who hurt the kids Shane brought home."

"Good."

Whether the 'good' is for not fighting walkers or for hunting bad guys, he doesn't ask. He just hugs Logan one more time before gently passing him to Carol and stealing one last kiss from his wife.

Today will make them all safer, he swears to it.

~*~ Tim ~*~

Tim's never faced a combat scenario with so much reason to come home safely. Hunting the Wolves in Virginia, Christopher was at least by his side. Today, though, his lover will be at Scout's side, while he's partnered with Honey.

Daryl's leading a quartet of teams - Daryl's own, Glenn's, Jacqui's, and Rosita's - to pursue the supply team that makes the Columbus run. They'll outnumber and outgun the Woodbury militia members, so he is confident in his part for today.

But Christopher won't be anywhere as protected as on the safe side of a rifle scope. Scout's team is one of four who will infiltrate Woodbury at a weak point in the eastern wall. Shane will lead a similar number in through the west.

With any luck, Woodbury is as stupid as they've appeared on all the surveilance he's helped do in the past fifteen days.

"Stay alert today. I know, stupid thing to tell you of all people, but Columbus is dangerous."

"We probably won't have to go that far." While the general agreement is they'll take surrender from those who merit it, the team that usually does the Columbus run from Woodbury contains no innocents by Daniel's report.

"Just in case. Best laid plans and all that. Be careful."

He doesn't have the words for this, but Christopher doesn't seem to mind his feelings being demonstrated with a kiss instead. He buries his fingers in blond locks bleached bright by the sun from their normal honey brown shade.

They're probably pushing the boundaries of public affection, but at just after four a.m., there are few small ones around. He finally drops his hands and gives Christopher an answering smile as the nurse captures his left hand and fumbles a bit.

As the silicone ring finally slides onto his ring finger, he grips the other man's hand tight. "Pretty sure there's supposed to be a proposal before the wedding band. And some words in front of Hershel."

"Probably. But I didn't man up in time, and it's a promise we'll do that on Saturday."

"I don't have a ring for you."

It's not that he hasn't thought about it. Hell, he's even gone so far as to discuss it with Rachel, who endorsed the idea wholeheartedly. But his courage has failed him so far on bringing it up.

"I know." Christopher's smile is bright and affectionate. "I'm sure you can fix that by Saturday."

Scout's summons sounds out and Tim's not sure if he's relieved or frustrated. "I love you," he settles for instead.

"I love you, too."

He watches in mute wonder as Christopher heads off to Scout's Humvee, only to find his hand being taken once again. Honey laces her fingers with his, bringing their hands up to look at the cream colored band, which has an opalescent sheen to it that's different from the silicone bands he's seen others wear.

"Pretty. Do I get to fight Rachel for the best man spot?"

The levity in her voice and her impish smile are exactly what he needs. He squeezes her hand before she lets go and opens the passenger door of the Humvee assigned to their team and Jacqui's.

"I call shotgun!"

No one else comments other than passing smiles when he loads up in the back, sitting behind Honey's seat and just staring at his hand.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol startles, just a little, at the warm hand at the small of her back. Cricket's smile is barely there as she leans into Carol, watching the caravan of vehicles pulling out of the first gate. Carol wraps an arm around her daughter's waist and feels rather than sees Lori doing the same on Cricket's other side.

Jazz leads the other kids away, enlisting them as helpers for the morning. She already knows he's got distractions planned. She's happy to see he's recruited Eugene as well.

Lori pats Cricket's belly, which still falls in what Carol dubs the 'cutely pregnant' stage even at nearly twenty-nine weeks. "Let's go take over the kitchens and give the breakfast crew a break."

It sounds like a good plan to Carol, having a distraction on that scale. "The kids would love cinnamon rolls."

And the sticky treats will hopefully distract the children from worrying about loved ones going out the gate. The younger ones don't entirely understand the gravity of today's mission. But the older ones do. Logan crawling into bed between her and Merle at midnight certainly proves that.

She's not going to worry until she has to, or so she tells herself, but as she meets Lori's own carefully calm expression, she wishes she had the practice the other woman has. There's always danger for any of the teams outside the walls, but the possibility versus the absolute makes her stomach want to crawl right up her throat.

As Cricket moves away from them into the pantry to pull ingredients, Carol notices Lori's hand is almost absently on the gun holstered at her thigh. "You okay?" she asks.

Lori frowns. "I don't know. Remember that old saying 'a goose walked over my grave'?"

"Yeah."

"I've been feeling that way since I woke up this morning. I keep telling myself it's just the usual worry and I should be used to it after over a decade as a cop's wife, but it's just lingering."

Carol thinks about the far away look Merle's gotten several times in the past few weeks and wonders if it's the same. He's brushed off the odd blips of mood with jokes or affection, but something about it feels the same.

"They'll be okay. They have the element of surprise."

The brunette nods at last, but her hand doesn't leave the edge of her holster until she needs both hands for the biscuit prep Carol slides her way while she does the cinnamon rolls.

~*~ DD ~*~

Daryl slides out of the driver seat of the Humvee and stretches to lessen some of his tension. They're on Highway 54 just north of Sharpsburg, stopping to review the day's plan one last time now that Terminus's teams have caught up.

The sky is just beginning to brighten enough they don't need lights to see as the team leaders hold their meeting. Conns Creek to Woodbury is a bit over a hundred miles, a trip that would take two hours at old world speeds.

With the risk of running into walkers or loose livestock far greater now, they're reduced to a max speed of forty-five, so the main mass of their fighters won't be in position for another hour or more.

Scout's looking around, doing a headcount. "This is where we split up. Daryl's people will overshoot to wait on the route their supply teams take. Take them out on the outbound trip if at all possible."

He nods acknowledgement, along with Glenn, Jacqui, and Rosita. "Gonna do our best to set up ambush at Shiloh. They're in regular vehicles, so no armor."

That's in contrast to the Humvees they're all in today.

"Good. Set up and switch frequency to send comms through Homestead."

"Alright." He doesn't like being cut off from the main group, but he understands the need to reduce airway clutter.

At least his people won't be having to carry a mobile unit in a backpack, like Danny's doing for Shane's division and Tanaka for Scout's.

"Shane's four teams are going to the west wall, so everyone will be in place before they are. Abraham will wait at the south gate for Amanda's team to disable the guards and open them. Maria, Rachel's team will be your access point."

The indicated pairs of team leads nod.

"Disable obvious civilians and use force only when necessary. We're lucky that the fighters tend to segregate together in housing, but we'll be arriving after their supply run goes out. They're going to be alert."

Daryl understands why they discarded the options to disable via food or water due to too many at-risk civilians, but damned if it wouldn't make things easier.

Scout continues with location assignments within Woodbury, sending teams to secure the infirmary, school, and stores. Keeping the children safely inside the building used for classrooms is key to keeping civilians safe.

When he gets to meet Daniel Navarro, he's gonna shake that kid's hand. The map and information he smuggled out is going to make this much less risky.

"Everyone clear?"

At the assent from everyone, she dismisses them to their vehicles. He hesitates and leans in to hug her.

"You're no longer sworn to die for your country, che'lu. Keep that in mind today."

She just gives him that odd, assessing gaze that reminds him of their last farewell before the desert nearly killed her. "No, it's my family I swear that to now."

"No. For family, you swear to _live_."

It gains him a smile that chases away the ghosts, for now, at least.

He climbs into the driver's seat, shaking his head at Rosita's questioning look. He looks back over the rest of their teams in the back of the Humvee and tries to settle his mind into the task ahead.

Two miles down the road, he splits off to keep following 54 with Glenn behind him, while Scout leads the rest down 16 toward Woodbury.

Today's the day of reckoning for Woodbury's leader.

~*~ LG ~*~

The usual breakfast ladies are happy enough to just cover cleanup, so Lori takes her time nursing Judith and chatting with Carol, Patricia, and Cricket. There's never an end to laundry, but she's in no hurry today.

Patricia finally rises with a sigh. "Gonna take Matty up to the house for his nap and start up some of the canning with the unending baskets of peaches."

Cricket snags Christian, who is more awake than Matty, but not by much. "I'll join you."

As they wander off, Isabelle following with Andre, Lori debates another cup of tea versus Judith needing a nap too.

"I can take her to nap, if you want."

She looks up to see Beth smiling sweetly at her. "If you don't mind. There's baklava on the counter if you want it."

Judith will sleep happily in a playpen in the laundromat, but she'll sleep longer at home.

"I don't mind at all. I'm off duty today."

"Can we go too?" Abby and Anaya give their best puppy eyes to both Beth and Lori.

"I want to show Beth my carvings," Abby adds.

Lori hands Judith over. "There's no school today, so that's up to Beth."

The blonde teenager agrees cheerfully and heads off with a sleepy baby and two chattering girls.

Carol grins. "We ever get a daycare open, I'm praying she'll work a day or two a week. She's got a magic touch with babies."

"I'm sure she will, even with training with her dad."

"Need an extra hand with laundry?"

"Have you ever heard me decline laundry help?"

Carol's subdued laugh reminds Lori of why they both need a distraction by working. She checks her watch. Almost seven. Within the hour, their people will move on Woodbury.

"Want to check in with watch first?"

"Yeah. I know they'll alert us in an emergency, but I wouldn't mind an update."

As they step out into the already warm morning air, Lori feels that sensation of ice crawling along her spine again. God, she hopes it's just a silly attack of nerves.

~*~ HG ~*~

Hershel pauses in handing the harvest bags out to Lenore's crew to watch as Jazz's Polaris turns right to go over to the horse farm. He catches a glint of long, loose blonde hair in the back, but he isn't sure if it's Beth or Sophia. Could be either, both, or even one of the other girls.

"Holding up the line, Daddy."

Maggie's grinning at him, one hand out for the equipment he's holding.

"Are you really in that much of a hurry to pick peas?" he asks, settling the straps over her head so that the gather bags rest on either hip.

"Yep. Picking peas is way better than getting roped into Patricia's canning crew. I'm sick of peeling peaches."

She steps aside, filling her water bottle from the cooler on the table and waiting on Michonne to do the same. Normally, Andre is with them, but the little boy's been dealing with an ear infection the last few days.

"Fresh air is good for the baby," he says almost automatically. It's still hard to believe he's going to be a grandfather in the fall.

"Lord knows we've been getting plenty of it," Michonne remarks.

The two women head into the field, beginning their daily challenge of the most obnoxious baby name suggestion. He really hopes none of the ones he's heard make the cut for any baby here.

Once he's handed out the last of the harvest bags, he loads the mostly empty water coolers onto the wagon.

"I'm going for refills," he calls out to Lenore. She waves before going back to teaching some of the smaller children how to pick the purple hull peas. He's looking forward to the later lessons when the kids learn how to shell them, too.

As he makes his way to the Eldridge farmhouse, he does a quick headcount and realizes maybe half of the school children are down here. It's such a peaceful scene that he can't help but walk slowly and enjoy it.

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane eyes his watch, seeing the time creep closer to 7:30. The supply team left shortly after seven, and they want them far enough away to fall into Daryl's ambush.

The seconds tick by.

As soon as Scout's order sounds in his ear, he tosses the grapple hook, hearing a series of echoing small thumps as his team all engage the wall.

Showtime.


	91. Fall of the Governor, Part 2

_A/N: Due to the cliffhangers in these chapters, they post with less than 24 hours between them, so check to see if you've missed a prior chapter. Enjoy!_

**June 30, 2011**

~*~ SW ~*~

It's been over an hour since they went over the walls in Woodbury, and it's eerie how little resistance they've met. Only the gate guards even attempted to fight so far, and they went down easily and quietly with the tazers brought along just for that purpose. This place is so flawed security wise that it makes him flinch. Who the hell puts the school children in a building right by the community wall?

Shane's teams are working the western side, sending any stray civilians to the school building where Maria's and Natha's teams are standing guard. The fact that there's only one male amidst the two teams, and that one barely adult, seems to comfort the Woodbury folks.

He sent the suggestion out to drop the shemaghs within the first twenty minutes. Covered faces make the civilians think terrorists, not rescuers. Seeing the mixed genders seems to reassure folks as much as the badges they've been flashing.

They've reached the infirmary, which is set up in a converted Methodist church. The doctor and nurse on duty react in fear, like many do. The nurse moves to place herself between them and the two occupied hospital beds. He wonders how creatively vicious she could get, despite appearing to be unarmed and at least in her sixties.

He lets Rick take the lead, as his partner pulls out his credentials to show the doctor. Even though he's kept himself to old departmental regs on hair and shaving, compared to most of his fellow ex-officers, Rick still gives off a guy-next-door-vibe. Even with the beard, he looks like the neighbor who loans you his lawnmower and shares his Budweiser over the backyard fence.

"I'm Dr. Stevens. We were told there's no government left," the doctor says after studying the badge, ID, and Rick's face for a moment. "No military, no cops."

Rick gives her his kindest smile. "Well, ma'am, while there's nothing being run from the federal or state level, there are a good number of police and military at our community." He points out Danny as a Marine and Shane as his partner.

"And your fourth man?"

T-Dog gives her his best bashful smile. "Worked in a community center coaching kids, ma'am. Played ball before that. But after things fell apart, Deputy Walsh found me. Figured the best thing I could do was learn the skills to protect our community."

Shane knows the moment she chooses to believe them, because her shoulders relax just a fraction. She's good at controlling her body language, probably from years in her profession requiring her to be careful with patients, but it's still there.

"The man who runs Woodbury? He is not a good man," she admits softly.

"We know. We've been finding his victims for months now." Rick accepts his credentials back, tucking them back inside his vest.

"Does that mean you're aware of what the man's doing outside the walls?" Shane asks.

She nods. "Not everything, I'm sure, but from what I do know, he is a vile human being, but there was no alternative. There are _experiments_ here."

"Experiments?" Shane sure as hell doesn't like the sound of that.

"There's a scientist here, who says he is researching a cure. The Governor provides him with supplies, lab equipment, and captured walkers."

"And is the scientist a good man or a bad one?" Rick asks.

The doctor exchanges a long look with the nurse, who is the one who eventually answers. "I think it's less of a question of good or bad than one of old world loyalty and fear."

Shane absorbs that analysis. "Can your patients be moved safely?"

Dr. Stevens nods. "Mr. Jacobson is recovering from a bout of pneumonia, but I was going to release him tomorrow morning anyway. And Noah had an asthma attack this morning, so he's here so he doesn't forget doctor's orders and run about in the heat today."

"We'll need you four to gather at the school building. All the civilians are being gathered there."

The nurse pushes a wheelchair over to the male patient, and he grumbles a bit but swings his legs out of the bed and takes a seat. Dr. Stevens makes sure Noah has his inhaler and they both fall into step behind the nurse with the wheelchair.

Before they get too far away, Shane calls out to the doctor. "Where do we find the scientist?"

She points the opposite way from the school. "He's set up in the old parsonage. Name's Milton."

~*~ DD ~*~

It's been over an hour since Homestead relayed the message that the supply runners left Woodbury. His Humvee is hidden in the shadows of a small house, while Glenn's is across the highway using the treeline for cover. Each pair of teams has their gunmen in sheltered positions, with just two staying behind - driver and shotgun.

Daryl shifts uneasily in the driver's seat. Even at the slowest crawl, it doesn't take that long to travel sixteen miles.

"You think maybe they went another way for once? Maybe down past Manchester and bypassing Shiloh entirely?" Brady asks.

That's not the variable Daryl wants happening. Daniel swears they don't vary routes, and he knows the route is clear. "Maybe encountered walkers."

Woodbury keeps their region as scrupulously clear of the dead as Homestead does, so he doesn't think that's the reason, not really.

He reaches for the radio and calls out for Homestead. Dale answers, his Chamorro still a bit choppy, but impressive for the first foreign language the man ever learned.

"Any news from the teams in Woodbury?"

"Tanaka radioed in that everything's going smoothly so far. The people are surrendering easily."

"Alright. Make a note that we still haven't seen the supply team come through here."

The older man agrees and signs off. Daryl taps his fingers on the steering wheel for a moment, watching as Brady keeps his Barrett M82 aimed at the highway.

"Another half hour, then we go looking."

That's about all the inaction he thinks any of them can manage.

~*~ AF ~*~

Abraham's team approaches the big building they know houses Woodbury's militia's supplies, at least the ones they admit to the civilians. Daniel reported several other locations outside of Woodbury for caches, and the Vato is fairly sure that's not everything.

Amanda's team spreads out to protect the exit, letting his breach the door. Merle holds his team ready to follow after Abraham's.

The Governor relies on the honesty of his people, because Abraham and Licari don't even have to ram it all that hard with the piece of railroad tie they liberated from a flower bed border. It's old, not reinforced, and buckles off the frame easily.

"Next time, we remember bolt cutters," Licari remarks.

If there's anyone inside, they're remarkably patient. Their intel says there could be up to a dozen militia members inside, drinking and playing cards since they aren't needed elsewhere. But there's no reaction to the godawful racket they just made, so Abraham ventures to shove the door wreckage out of the way.

The building is dimly lit, but the alarming part is the fact that neither the MTVR or Humvee they have possession of are in the vehicle bay area. There's not a soul in sight either, despite there being stacks of cards and poker chips on the two folding tables at the back.

"Spread out and search the damn place." He activates his radio, alerting Scout and Shane that something is very, _very_ wrong here.

When Merle passes him with that cheery little female Guardsmen turned nursing assistant as his partner, the older man's expression tells Abraham he shares every one of his misgivings.

~*~ EF ~*~

Something's tickling at the edge of Eugene's senses. He can't quite place what it is yet, but it's got him too worked up to ignore. Just when he thinks maybe he's going crazy, he realizes Jazz has stopped to listen as well.

Carl keeps shoveling manure into the trailer they'll hook to the back of the Polaris to take to the farm compost fields. He looks at them curiously, while Sophia and Logan keep trying to tease the newest mama cat and kittens out from behind the feed bins just inside the barn.

He looks toward the fenceline, easily half a mile away from where they're working today. The fencing that encloses the horse farm on this side of the Etowah is meant for a prison or other high security installation, and there's a weird visual shimmer caused by the woven mesh.

It makes him think he's seeing an optical illusion at first, like the movies always show for desert mirages, but then the sound finally registers.

He snatches his radio off his belt and keys for the watch room. "Check the cameras off the horse farm gate, _now_."

They can't wait for confirmation of what he's seeing. If that gate is breached, these children are in a level of danger as bad as anything this world can throw at them.

"Kids, get in the Polaris. Fucking run for it."

They respond in a way he wishes his students back in Texas would have to authority. Jazz's identified the same danger, and the teenager abandons any pretense of safe driving as they all pile into the UTV.

Eugene's never wished for them to have switched Jazz's work vehicle to an actual truck more in his life. The Polaris Ranger Crew at max speed tops out at forty-five, meant to be a work vehicle, not a speedster. He twists in his seat, getting to his knees and holding the roll bars to keep an eye behind them.

He gets a brief glimpse of the children's anxious faces where they're strapped into the back seat as Jazz presses his little vehicle as hard as it can go. He's going off-road now, skipping the winding gravel road that will take them to the bridge that fords the Etowah. That'll gain them some time, going cross-country.

Their radios all begin to wail, the recorded alert pattern one for the tornado drills. He guesses it works well enough, since they've never designated an alert for being fucking invaded.

Ten seconds after the alert, the big military vehicle smashes the gate at the far end of the property as if it were made of popsicle sticks. Eugene feels like throwing up, feeling like Jeff Goldblum in Jurassic Park.

Only the nightmare he's watching invade their home is not a T-Rex.

"It's a Bradley, isn't it?" Jazz is concentrating on dodging shrubbery and even a fallen tree as they dodge into the uncleared land close to the Etowah. Eugene grips the rollbar even tighter to stay in the vehicle.

"Yes." It's all he can reply, trying to keep watch on the next best thing to a damned tank eat up ground because it can go nearly twice as fast as they can.

He can't even feel grateful with the Bradley slows as it nears the barn they just fled, because the turret swings as whoever's inside takes aim.

The barn they just spent the morning in explodes in a shower of debris from the impact of the TOW missile. It's meant to target tanks, so the fifty-year-old wooden structure stands no chance.

Eugene can only be grateful they targeted the barn and not the Polaris. The missile had the range for it.

"Won't we have to double back to the bridge?" Sophia asks. She's holding Logan close, not looking back over her shoulder like Carl is. The boy's looking up at Eugene, and he knows Carl's making the same connections they are.

"We can't. That'll bring us back out in the open."

The river bank isn't fenced here, relying on a system of strategic mesh to prevent walkers or unwanted humans from floating the river to them.

"We're going to swim the river, aren't we?" he says, feeling the Polaris lurch to a halt. Jazz's pulled it close to the bank.

"River's down enough right now we can wade it, most of us. I'll piggyback Logan. There's a supply cache by the lakeside."

"There can't be anything that can stop that in there," Carl says.

As they ready to cross the river, which is down from its more normal levels due to a month of little rain, Eugene sees an odd look cross the oldest teenager's face. What does Jazz know about the cache that they don't?

"Put your handguns and radios in this." Jazz thrusts a bag Eugene assumes to be waterproof at them, his own Glock already inside. He cinches the bag closed and hooks the loops over his neck like an oddball necklace.

He decides to invest the same faith in Jazz that he would in Honey or any of the older Dixons and follows him into the river. Logan clings to his back. They all hold their rifles over their heads as they wade, and Eugene keeps a close eye on the water levels for Sophia and Carl. It's hitting their chins as they hit the lowest spot, but both teenagers make it safely.

Everyone flinches as the Bradley fires another missile, from the sound of the explosion behind them. There's no way to know what else is being destroyed, with several buildings on the property. If there's any truth to a higher power, the bastards are sticking to the buildings and not the animals in the pastures. At least he hasn't heard the chain gun so far, or the machine gun.

Jazz returns the handguns and radios and they run behind him as he sets a brutal pace toward the lake. Eugene worries for Logan, but the boy keeps up, his young face pale and worried.

They're almost there when the property sirens go off. But the signal isn't the usual tornado siren they've tested only twice before. Whoever is at the controls is using one of the alternate signals, and the alternating wail makes Eugene shudder.

And then the electronic voice. "Homestead under attack. Take cover."

It repeats, alternating with the wailing signal. Not everyone has a radio, so he understands the need to set it off. But then as they reach what looks like a rickety equipment shed on the shore of the lake in the expansion, he remembers the destroyed gate and flinches.

He starts to radio in, but then there's another explosion. This one doesn't come from across the river. Instead, it's from somewhere to the north and west.

"Eugene?" Sophia sounds young and terrified from where she's holding Logan close. Her blonde hair is hanging limply, the latter two inches wet from their trip through the river.

"Yeah?"

"Can one of those things cross the river?"

"Maybe. It depends on how old it is, and whether it has extra armor." The original Bradleys had an amphibious option, with the 'skirts' installed, but the current ones removed it in favor of better armor. Even without that, if they've found a stash of military vehicles, they may have found the means for temporary bridges to ford the river as well.

Jazz is tossing fishing gear aside in the shed, steadily clearing an area near the right side wall. He snags an almost hidden recess and lifts a large section of flooring up, revealing a door that looks similar to the one Eugene saw installed for the storm shelter by the nursing home.

But unlike that one, this one has a coded entry lock. Jazz jabs the code and jerks the door open, revealing stairs downward.

"Everyone down here."

The three younger ones scramble down the stairs as directed and Jazz follows, with Eugene right behind him. "Don't close the door yet," he tells Eugene. "Carl, radio in that we're in the lake bunker."

While the three settle on a cot in the corner of the cramped space that's smaller than his old container apartment, Jazz goes for the crates along one wall. While he looks for whatever he needs, Eugene notices that there are three of the body armor vests hung from a hook.

Something tells him that Jazz isn't staying in the bunker, and he's not letting the teenager go back to the surface alone. He tugs one on, saving what seems to be the largest for Jazz.

"Got it." He's holding two olive green metal tubes, each with a bell flare on one end.

"Holy shit, Jazz. Are those AT4s?"

"Yeah." Jazz notes the armored vest he's wearing and hands him one of them. "There's only two. These are the ones without the back blast, but if I miss, or something happens, do you think you can fire it?"

"Walk me through it." He spares a glance toward the other kids, who are watching in a bit of terrified fascination as Jazz goes through each step. He wonders if Jazz has actually fired one before, and considering he's disappeared off property a few times with Shane and Scout, Eugene wouldn't be surprised if he has.

The fifteen-year-old settles his own vest in place. "I'm going to pull the door closed and hide it when we leave. You three stay here."

"We can help," Carl begins, but Jazz cuts him off.

"Not against that, Carl. You gotta stay here and help Sophia keep Logan safe for me. Promise me."

The younger boy nods reluctantly.

There are no farewells, because like Eugene, Jazz knows their window of opportunity is limited. It takes them a few precious extra minutes to hide the trap door, but it's a risk they have to take.

He follows Jazz at a run back into the cover of the trees, praying this is a gamble that pays off for them both. If something happens to Jazz, he might as well turn the damned anti-tank weapon on himself rather than the invader.

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle lets Miriam clear the door to the small room at the very back of the series of interconnected old buildings the Governor uses for his quasi-military storage. They've found nothing but almost random military supplies and dust until now.

"Oh, God, that poor boy," Miriam says, voice anguished, as Merle steps in behind her.

He's seen things between the Marines, prison, and the end of the world that will turn the strongest man's stomach, but this? It shows the unredeemable monstrosity of the man who runs this place.

It takes the Vato gang tattoo still visible among the ruins of the man's chest to identify him as Daniel Navarro. Among the other signs of torture, his skin's been branded, spelling out 'TRAITOR'. The smell of burnt flesh nearly overwhelms Merle, pitching him back to the hospital burn ward with Scout for a split second.

"He's still breathing." The second Miriam makes that connection, she's moving, fumbling for her medic kit.

He hits his radio. "We need Christopher and that goddamned Woodbury doctor now. They've tortured Daniel."

As Miriam touches Daniel's hair gently, the man rouses to consciousness. It would amaze Merle, except he knows exactly how hard the mind can battle to stay aware even if the body is failing.

He's trying to speak, bloodshot eyes focussing on Merle. "They know."

"Daniel? What do they know?" He wishes the smaller medkits contained narcotics as the man, barely out of his teens, struggles for words and breath. He can't even take Daniel's hand, because most, if not all, of the Vato's fingers are broken.

"Where the Angel lives."

Merle didn't think anything would ever top that bone chilling call from the Marines that Scout was being airlifted from Germany to San Antonio. But this? It does exactly that.

"They know where Homestead is?"

"Yes. But two places."

Terminus. He's got to mean the Governor's aware of the prison too. How he knows where either place is, Merle doesn't know yet, but it wasn't from this poor tortured kid. Daniel has no idea where the northern communities are.

"Stay with him until Christopher and the doctor arrive," he orders Miriam.

He leaves the room, but before he can key his mike to have one of the radiomen alert Homestead, Danny's voice in his ear tells him the people back home don't need the alert.

"Homestead is under attack."

~*~ BG ~*~

Beth stretches out on the soft rug in the middle of the Walsh living room. Judith woke from her nap ten minutes ago, and the girls wanted to take Abby's carvings next door to see if Anaya's calligraphy inks would work to stain the pale wood. She can hear the chatter as the girls experiment at the work table in Anaya's bedroom.

"Judy, Judy Moody, where are you, Judy booty," she singsongs as she hides her face and then peeks out at the five-month-old. "There she is!"

Judith cackles, rolling from her belly to her back and grabbing her feet. Beth snags the edge of her tiny sundress and blows a raspberry against silky baby skin. It earns her more baby laughter, enough so that both the older girls peer out into the living room, grinning.

She's about to get up to see if there's something to snack on here, knowing that Scout and Shane keep a variety of small items for the kids when her radio starts sounding the warning pattern for bad weather. She pushes to her feet, looking out the windows, but she doesn't see any signs of a storm.

"Might be just another drill Patricia's running," she tells the girls, "but we'll be cleaning toilets for a week if we don't get to the shelter."

They nod agreement. No sensible kid at Homestead risks defying Patricia on anything. Beth's pseudo-aunt is only outranked by Carol in the 'just how grounded do you want to be' factor. She might be seventeen, but as much as she's seen most of the younger adults, even including Scout herself, hop to when one of those ladies make a request, she's not going to buck the system.

Abby grabs Judith's diaper bag and Anaya slips on the carrier, holding out her arms for the baby. Beth's just fetching her gun from where she took it off to play on the floor with the baby when the big sirens start. The recorded announcement makes her realize the danger they're possibly in.

The nearest shelter is the one in the basement in the main house, and they're easily a quarter-mile. The little Dixon village is empty of everyone but them, all the residents either out on the Woodbury raid or somewhere else on property.

"Tåta's gun safe."

"What?"

"You just have your little gun. We need to get in Tåta's gun safe." Anaya runs into the adults' bedroom, pushing a plush little armchair aside with ease. She hooks her fingers into a crevice and lifts out the panel, revealing the big safe sunk below the floor.

"Do you know the combination?" Beth asks. The need to run, to get the girls to safety, is nearly overwhelming, but Anaya's right. Her small Walther pistol holds only thirteen rounds, and she doesn't have any extra ammo.

"Yeah." Beth pushes aside the old world outrage of a ten-year-old with access to a gun safe as Anaya spins the lock. There's a pop as she opens the heavy door. She's obviously familiar with the contents, because she hands Beth a Glock and two magazines of ammo already in a holster.

Another magazine follows, obviously meant for the gun itself, so Beth slides it into the gun with a metallic click. The gun's bigger than her own and feels unfamiliar, but the blonde slides the holstered gun into her waistband above her regular thigh holster.

Anaya's dipping back into the safe, handing a shotgun to Abby and taking a smaller, youth version for herself. She passes an ammo pouch to the other girl. Beth wonders just how much training the girls are having at the range.

Judith babbles from her place strapped safely to Anaya's back.

Beth starts to take Judith, but despite Anaya's familiarity with the youth shotgun, she knows she's more experienced than her young charge. When a rifle appears for her, she lays it down on the bed even as she takes the ammo pouch.

She's spotted a spare body armor vest hanging in the closet next to Scout's uniforms. She dashes across the room to snag the tan-colored item. With a little finangling, she manages to fit it over Judith and Anaya both. It looks ridiculous, meant for an adult far larger than Anaya, but it's all the extra she can do.

They edge out onto the front porch. The Walsh cabin is at the end of the little village farthest from the main Dixon house, closest to the thicket wall that edges the river that can be heard beyond.

"Stay right with me," she orders. "When we get to the end of the cabins, wait for my signal, and then we run like hell. Got it?"

The girls nod solemnly. Judith's quiet, not even fussing with the heavy metal plates resting against her tiny frame. Babies sense moods and danger, just like adults.

They're almost ready to run when Beth hears something loud, like an explosion. She looks up in the distance, beyond the bulk of her home. The thicket wall that so faithfully protects them from anything crossing the river is breached by an immense military vehicle, bigger than anything Beth's seen before.

It knocks through the thorn trees damaged by the explosion and rolls over the concertina wire like it's sewing thread. Armed men jump out of the back, but they're dragging something big and flat and shoving it toward the river.

Leaving the shelter of the cabin they're hiding behind means these men are likely going to see them, but Beth has to hope for the best.

She cups Anaya's face between her hands. "I want you to run. Don't look back. Don't wait for me and Abby. Just run until you hit the front porch and get downstairs as fast as you can. Promise me."

The little girl nods, her grip on her little shotgun turning white knuckled. "Protect Judy. I will."

"Abby, same. Don't wait for me. Run like the wind."

The girl's pigtails bob as she also nods.

Beth assesses the invaders one last time. "Run, girls. Run!"

She paces so she doesn't outrun either of them, trying to keep her larger frame between them and any potential sightings. At the garage, she lets the girls pull ahead. "Get inside!"

They keep their promises and never look back to see that she didn't follow.

Instead, she scrambles up the stairs to Cricket's apartment. These monsters are invading her home, and that's a bridge to bring more. She pounds through the apartment, shoving open Christian's window.

Surrounded by the pastel wonderland of a baby's room, Beth aims her rifle.

_A/N: I hate to pad the word count, but some things need to be put out there._

_This story arc will be at least 5 action chapters and 3 aftermath chapters. While normally I do not write blood/gore/death the way the show or comics do, there will be character death, major injury, and all the requisite warnings of the psychopathic Governor plot._

_For those not privvy to my notes on Ao3: At normal travel speeds, pre-ZA, Woodbury is 115 miles away from Homestead - around 2 hours - and those Humvees? They top out at 70mph._

_If you aren't familiar with the Bradley Fighting Vehicle, give it a google. They aren't quite the same as the tank from the show (but that one was an anachronism of an antique). How Daryl killed the tank in the show... Not Really Possible without a lot of insane coincidence. My invasion is going to be a little more logical (aside from the fact that a teenager is now loose with the equivalent of a one-time-use rocket launcher), but because of that, it's probably even more dangerous for our beloved characters._


	92. Fall of the Governor, Part 3

June 30, 2011

~*~ CD ~*~

"I know that come winter, I'll be glad we canned all these peaches, but I'm about to the point of never wanting to see another one," Cricket grumbles as she slices what feels like her thousandth peach of the day.

Patricia just laughs as she works at the stove, scalding the skins off even more peaches. Al's taking the peach slices and putting them into the anti-browning solution. The teenager ate slices as he worked earlier in the morning, but even his appetite has waned.

"Want to trade off?" Amy asks. She's in the living room, keeping an eye on Matty, Christian, and Andre with Isabelle's help.

"If you're offering." Cricket lays down her knife and goes to wash her hands. Amy wiggles her way to her feet and passes Cricket on their way to switching.

"I don't think anyone would guess you're due before me," her sister-in-law comments.

Cricket assesses their bellies and laughs. None of the women due together look like they're precisely the same point along. Michonne and Cricket are noticeably pregnant, but not where people would guess third trimester. If you judged by belly size, Amy and Maggie look much further along.

"The real interesting part will be who delivers first. Michonne will probably beat us all, being her second baby."

Amy laughs, but whatever she's about to say gets cut off by multiple radios sounding for a tornado.

It's Patricia's puzzled look that makes Cricket pause. The older woman is in charge of drills, so if she's caught off guard, this isn't one.

Everyone looks toward the clear blue sky outside the wall of windows. "There's no sign," Patricia begins, but the warning ends as Patricia's individual radio gets the tone preceding a council message.

"Unfriendlies incoming at the horse farm gate. One large military vehicle on tracks, a smaller truck, a Humvee, and a semi-truck with a trailer have accessed the property. Four other vehicles are moving into areas I can't see, but north and east." Dale sounds frightened, and the older man is normally unflappable.

"Bunker room, now. All of you." Patricia's tone brooks no arguments, although Al tries.

"I can stay with you and help, Mama. I've been training."

Patricia draws the boy into a tight embrace. "I know you have, Al, which is why I need you down there with the ladies and babies."

He doesn't quite believe her, but he picks up Andre and follows Cricket, Amy, and Isabelle. Patricia heads in the opposite direction, toward Cricket's parents room, likely to raid the gun safe in the office.

Cricket's glad of how close the stairs on the garage end of the house are to the bunker. Its presence isn't really hidden from anyone who comes in the basement. The electronic lock disengages at Cricket's code and she ushers everyone inside before reconsidering.

"Al, do you know the code to Jazz's gun safe?"

He nods, already moving toward it in anticipation.

"Get a rifle and a handgun, then come guard the bunker door. It needs to stay open as long as possible for people to evacuate to."

There are only three underground shelters on this part of Homestead. The basement bunker, a large one between and slightly behind the community center and nursing home, and one for the upper village where most of the non-Dixon cabins are built.

Cricket hopes no one's down in the Dixon village today, because their only shelter is to run here.

She moves past the rows and rows of shelving and food with Christian in her arms. Activating the backup watch center down here is high priority so that Dale and Amalia can take shelter or join in defending Homestead.

When they reach the back where the bank of monitors is, she flips everything on one handed before Amy finally plucks the baby away and settles him with the teenagers and Matty in a couple of camp chairs. Andre has his little backpack, so he settles at their feet to play with a couple of toys.

"Dale, I'm activating the backup. What's the status?"

He still sounds rattled, but his report is smooth. "The tracked vehicle crashed the horse farm gate. I've gotten glimpses of the others, but I can't confirm anything but big and likely military. Hershel's ordered me to use the sirens."

"Get that done then. I should have everything up and running within ten minutes."

He signs off and she taps the table impatiently, wondering if they've alerted the team at Woodbury yet. They're too far away for immediate help, but if they can just hold their ground, the others will come.

When Abby and Anaya come running in, terrified, she helps them get Judith free, feeling infinitely frustrated that she doesn't know more.

~*~ LG ~*~

Lori's glad of Carol's help today. There's always laundry and even though it's one of the cleanest chores available, it's somehow one of the least favorite.

Seeing Carol hanging clothes means that despite the teens being left to their own devices today, four are here helping hang laundry. There used to be a similar effect when Lori was still pregnant.

"You have a list of names yet?" Lori asks. As soon as she knew Judith was a girl, she had about twenty.

Carol clips the shirt she's holding to the line and shakes her head. "Not really. I thought about a group list, like you did, but that's a lot of opinions."

"No kidding." If Carol includes every official Dixon kid, plus the unofficial ones, and the spouses, and their children… The mental image makes her laugh.

"So you see what I mean?" Carol's laughing too. As it passes, she shrugs, bending for another shirt. "I do have an idea, but I'm not sharing it just yet. I keep calling her that in my head to see if it fits."

"Is that how you named Sophia?". Lori can't imagine Ed with an opinion on naming a girl.

"More or less. She missed out in being a Junior by being a girl."

Their radios start blaring the tornado drill signal. They exchange puzzled looks. Outside like they are, there's no mistaking there's no storm in sight.

Then Carol's radio clarifies, and Lori feels her blood run cold.

Carol's eyes are icy when she looks at Lori. "Go. Get to the girls. Take Ronnie. I'll take Diane, Ana, and the kids to get the elderly into the shelter."

She doesn't have to voice the other half of her worry, because Carol's expression softens. "Carl's well trained, Lori. They'll know what to do."

Lori takes comfort in the reminder, since Carol's right. If she can remain so outwardly calm with three of her own children out with Carl, Lori can do the same.

The former Guardsman falls into step beside her as they begin their run toward the cabins, while Carol leads the others toward the nursing home.

They haven't even reached the main house when an explosion draws their attention to the thicket wall beyond the house, nearer to the sports fields. They both stop to stare in horror.

"Jesus Christ." Ronnie looks pale. "That's an MTVR."

It's a massive vehicle, which Lori isn't sure how got across the river until she remembers a passing mention that it's running lower due to a lack of rain. As high off the ground as it is, it could keep the engine clear.

"They're trying to bridge the river," Ronnie notes, but Lori's attention is on something else.

Running as if aspiring to Olympic gold, Anaya, Abby, and Beth have broken cover to flee the cabins toward the main house.

Lori grabs Ronnie's arm and begins to run.

~*~ Beth ~*~

If they survive today, Bath swears she's going to imitate Lori and ask Scout to train her personally. She's a decent shot, but not on moving targets.

Her first shots were so unexpected by her targets that she dropped two of the eight before most scattered for cover behind the big truck.

She's too late to stop them from bridging the river, though. Their truck is nearly blocking the passage, but it doesn't stop what looks like a tank from pushing its way across. The huge military truck is shoved forward, uncovering another invader.

Beth takes aim, cursing as the impact is more shoulder than center mass.

Then the turret on the latest invading vehicle is turning, orienting on the garage apartment she's currently in.

Her rifle can't damage that machine, and she can't fathom the apartment surviving anything a tank can fire.

She flees.

~*~ Axel ~*~

"Now that little bolt right there. What size socket you think you need?" Axel asks.

Jada stares at the bolt in the little dirt bike's engine. "Eight millimeter?". She smiles brightly as he nods, and reaches for the appropriate socket to attach to her tool.

As she works the bolt loose, he observes the boy sitting on an overturned bucket nearby. "Sure you don't want to give it a try too, Jeff?"

The teenager shakes his head and Jada scoffs a little. Her tone is fond as she speaks, though. "Jeff doesn't trust you yet."

For a ten-year-old, she's remarkably observant, but then again, both kids survived with the five others with no adults for months. The evidence of what she's overcome is on the twisted, ugly scarring on her right arm from the gunshot she survived.

"Is it just me, or everybody here?"

Jeff shrugs. "Denova's cool."

Considering Denova's far enough advanced in her pregnancy to trigger just about everyone's protective instincts, he understands. It doesn't stop her from working, using the more limber and flexible teenagers for the grunt work in the garage while she teaches them.

She's not soft and sweet like his Angela, but that's what makes the teenagers fall in line for her. They know she'll bust their chops and respect her for it.

"Good judge of character, kid."

Jada's cry of triumph as she frees the cover from the engine brings his attention back to the lesson.

The radios startle everyone.

"What the hell? There ain't no storm," he mutters.

"Maybe Patricia's testing us again." Jim's matter of fact tone settles everyone. "Grab a rag and clean off, then get moving."

Everyone's doing as he directs when the big sirens go off. As the message goes to repeat, Axel hears a whimper next to him. Jada's shaking, and he catches the whiff of urine.

"You gotta carry her, please."

Jeff's tugging at his arm. Axel knows he's right. The little girl is frozen in her terror, caught in a flashback, most likely. The teenager isn't really big enough for the task, not to get her to the shelter.

He lifts her into his arms, ignoring her wet jeans. He understands the sort of rage that grips men into beating someone to death with their fists as he sees her crying silently.

"Axel, you take the kids to the shelter. Jeff and Anthony can provide cover. Jim and I need to get to the armory," Denova orders.

Oscar's older son protests. "I can help. You shouldn't go."

Everyone eyes her distended belly.

Denova shakes her head. "Even if I give you the codes, none of you knows where everything is. But you can come. Ron? Can you help cover Axel and the kids?"

There are three of the younger kids in the garage besides Jada, Axel realizes. Jim's girls, Brandy and Jocelyn, along with another girl that's one of the Grady kids.

The other teenager nods as Jim passes rifles and ammo out of the gun safe in the office. "I've been training with Honey, just like Anthony."

"Good." Denova loads her rifle, and Axel spares a second to wonder if shooting is even safe for a pregnant woman. He figures she's ex-military, so she knows if it is better than him.

Jim leads them to the door of the garage just as an explosion roars through the warm summer air.

"Wall's breached," the bearded man tells them. Denova steps to the door to look and frowns.

"Not safe to get to the main shelter now," she declares. She studies the vehicles in the garage. "There's a big root cellar at the greenhouse closest to the gate."

"I know where it is," Ron says.

"Take the Chevy. Get the kids underground."

Jim tosses the keys to Jeff, who catches them and scrambles for the driver seat. Jim's sliding into the Jeep. As Axel and the girls pile into the truck, Jeff is already putting it into gear. His Angela was helping with canning today, so she'll be in the shelter by now.

In the rearview mirror, as they race toward the gate, he sees the Jeep tear out in a different direction. It angles west, toward the armory and he prays they make it.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol gives all the silent thanks she can for Patricia's impulse to run tornado drills. She's informed Dale that she's supervising the nursing home evacuation, and he's shared that the alert was originally sounded by Eugene. He knows the Polaris fled in time, but nothing more yet.

She pushes down the clawing sense of terror that there are four children and Eugene so close to that level of danger. They're all trained, even Logan, and none of them would understand if she abandoned the more vulnerable to come to them.

"Father Gabriel! I need you to help carry the ones who can't walk. Start with anyone on oxygen. Leave the tanks. The shelter has them. Follow Ana."

The cleric nods, lifting the elderly woman next to him in the Bible lesson group after gently removing her nasal cannula. He follows Ana, who has her arms full of an extra medical kit. It isn't just her pregnancy that keeps Ana from helping evacuate, but the twisted, badly healed leg they can't fix.

Two of the teenagers are big enough to carry the elders, so Carol sets them to work before turning to their caretaker.

"Who's in their rooms, G?" Of the twenty-one elders, only fifteen are in the common room.

He doesn't answer with names. "Four in A, two in B. All will need assistance."

It makes sense. A wing is for those in the most delicate health. "You and Felipe start on those. I'll keep things going here."

He nods and sets off at a run towards B wing. She assumes Felipe's already at work, since it's around the time the nurse does rounds with one of the doctors.

It's an assumption proves right when Felipe and Caleb emerge from A wing, each with one of the bedridden in his arms. The Indian doctor gives her a grim look as he passes her with Mr. Salcedo.

The seventy-six year old is their most delicate resident, in the end stages of a recurrence of a cancer they can't treat. He isn't expected to survive the next month.

She focuses on what she can control, damning these invaders to the depths of hell, and directs G's CNA, Robyn, and the other two smaller teenagers to push wheelchairs. A few of the more spry women, like the feisty woman everyone simply calls Abuelita, are joining the effort to push those who can't walk.

By the time, Gabriel returns for a third trip, there are no more elderly for him to take. Lilly and Meghan have made it to the nursing home, and she orders the nurse to the shelter. Felipe and Caleb will need the extra help.

"You should go too, Mrs. Dixon."

She turns her best glare on Father Gabriel. To his credit, he doesn't flinch away. But he accepts that she's not going down into that shelter.

"I will not let you go out there alone."

She accepts the declaration. "We need to make it to my office."

At the door, they both watch in horror as the garage at the Dixon house explodes into a flaming mass of debris.

~*~ Jazz ~*~

"Should we try to get across the bridge?" Jazz asks.

Eugene looks a little startled, and Jazz realizes he's not asked for any input until now. As soon as he saw the Bradley, his mind just dropped into the training and the need to get the younger ones to safety.

He isn't sure he can sustain that, now that it's just him and Eugene.

The older man assesses the situation, though. "There's enough cover near the bridge to stay hidden and still get a view of the road. Let's get closer and decide."

He nods and leads the way, hearing the crunch of leaves and sticks behind him as Eugene follows. When this is over, he's teaching the man to hunt and move more easily in the woods.

There's the noise of an approaching vehicle from the other side of the river, and they both drop into the kneeling position best for firing the AT4.

He looks at Eugene, feeling more frightened than ever in his life. This isn't just about his own safety. That Bradley can't get access to the more vulnerable parts of the property.

Before it comes into view, there's another explosion from the north and he flinches. He feels a hand in his shoulder.

Eugene's expression is as serious as he's ever seen him. "They're all as trained as you are, Jasper. We concentrate on protecting their backs."

He takes a deep breath as the Bradley comes into view. The bridge groans, not meant for the weight, but holds, unfortunately.

He takes aim and fires as soon as it's clear of the bridge. The impact flips the Bradley onto its side, twisting the metal and tearing it nearly in two.

"It didn't have the extra armor," Eugene says beside him. "It's an older model."

"Probably from a Guard depot. They get the discards from the Army."

Jazz tosses the now-useless metal tube and gets to his feet. Nothing seems to be following the Bradley yet.

"There could be survivors inside it," he says and Eugene agrees.

Eugene follows him silently as they approach the wreckage. "And if there are?"

He's asking if they eliminate them, possibly shooting injured men or women that can no longer defend themselves.

"I don't know."

In the end, it's not left for him or Eugene to decide. Even as they tug on the twisted and warped rear door, they can hear the cries of survivors inside. But the two of them can't pry it open.

They duck behind the wreckage when they hear a vehicle. It's not coming from the other side of the river, but he isn't considering any area secure right now.

"Holy shit."

When he hears Tyreese's voice, he relaxes a fraction before calling out. "It's me and Eugene!"

As they come out to meet the half of the building crew that remained behind today, he feels an immense sense of relief. Whether the invaders trapped inside the Bradley live or die is no longer his or Eugene's decision.

~*~ DH ~*~

Dale scribbles down the latest report from the radios and stuffs the small notebook in his pocket.

"Go, Amalia. You've got to go now. I can finish the shutdown."

His watch partner works on the switchover, turning all of watch over to the Dixon bunker. She's as stubborn as every other woman in his life.

"It's a two person job and you know it."

He sighs and radios Amy, confirming she has all the radio running. As soon as she replies, he flips the final switch. Andrea's with Tyreese's crew, and he'll get her to safety. Amy's in the bunker he would normally try to run for, but he doesn't want to draw any more attention now that the house has been targeted.

"Done. You got all visuals, Cricket?" Amalia checks in.

"Yeah. Lost everything for the garage." The young doctor sounds shaken. That's her personal home gone, so he understands.

"Based on where that thing was moving, we can't make either shelter. We're going for the armory. The garage crew is meeting us there."

Dale doesn't object when Amalia looks his way. They've got body armor on, and weapons, but none of the smaller caches have anything capable of stopping the Bradley advancing on the central core of their settlement.

"Stay safe."

He follows the petite Latina out of the watch building, only to be grabbed and shoved back inside.

"They saw me. Run for the other door, Dale."

His boots barely hit the ground before he hears a roar and explosion behind him.

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane's been terrified a few times in his life, such as when he knelt on that roadside trying to keep Rick from bleeding out. But now? Nearly two hours away from his children, he knows that terror had nothing on what he feels now.

His Humvee isn't the true lead, mainly because while the Homesteaders who infiltrated Woodbury were running to their vehicles hidden nearly a mile away, Daryl and Glenn blew by them.

There's only twelve of them in those two Humvees, but Shane's hoping the ten minute head start buys time. Those teams do contain their deadliest shots.

Only seven vehicles are underway with him. Maria's team volunteered to work with Aarón's Vatos to load and transport Daniel. Christopher stayed behind as their best medical personnel.

They stay off the radio, waiting for the reports.

It's Cricket's voice now instead of Dale, and she sounds like she's crying.

"The thicket wall is down, halfway between the house and the sports fields. We've got a Bradley inside the walls in two locations. Heavy damage on the horse farm from missiles."

The deep breath she takes is audible before she continues. "We have damage to the house on the garage end. And the watch building is gone. I don't know if Dale and Amalia got out in time."

Apparently, there's levels of terrified he hasn't reached yet. Beside him in the passenger seat, Rick looks equally at a loss.

Scout's voice is eerily calm as she queries her sister about who's made it to shelter. He's selfishly relieved to hear who is with Cricket and prays Beth is safe. She's sacrificed her own best protection as a fighter to protect his daughters.

"The other shelters are still getting incoming and taking roll. Hershel's certain everyone vulnerable working the crops today is in the Eldridge shelter, but they've got a lot of extra kids. Someone accessed the lakeside bunker, so others may have taken shelter there."

In the background, they can hear Amy, faintly. Shane imagines she's running the internal radio system from what he can glean.

"We're coming as fast as we can," Scout promises.

"I know." There's a racket that sounds like new voices. "We've got six more in our bunker, all kids. They're reporting seeing several of our people armed and fighting back."

Shane recalls the population of Woodbury versus the headcount they got before leaving. Ninety people are missing. Ten of that ninety left after seven, before disappearing. There's no telling yet how many are at Homestead versus targeting Terminus.

"Someone's got to get to the armory and get something to take out the Bradley."

"The garage crew is trying."

Shane hopes to God that doesn't include the eight months pregnant Denova Brady, but she's military. It probably does.

Cricket signs off and Mary from Terminus reports they're on alert. No signs of attackers there yet.

He tries not to think of who wasn't on Cricket's list as under shelter. Carol, Lori, Jazz… they'll be fighting, he suspects. He prays Carl and Sophia aren't.

There's no more pedal to give as the Humvee races along at seventy miles per hour.


	93. Fall of the Governor, Part 4

**June 30, 2011**

~*~ LG ~*~

The girls run so fast that they're inside the house before Lori and Ronnie reach the porch. They dash inside, but Patricia calls out to them.

Deciding the girls are safe in the bunker, they reroute.

The older woman passes them both rifles and ammo to supplement the handguns they carry. "We need to draw them away from the house, if we can. No matter how secure the bunker is, no one wants to have to dig it out later."

It goes unsaid that maybe more of the non-fighters can seek safety.

There's a booming explosion and Lori realizes with horror that part of Patricia's prediction has come true. The house rocks with the force of it and they run to where they can see the damaged interior garage door showing rubble through what fragments remain.

The sprinkler system on that end of the house activates, making Lori wonder how hot things are out there to cause that.

"Back to the mission. Ideas?"

Admiring Patricia's resolve to panic later, Lori nods. They can see another vehicle edging onto the property from here, a Humvee like their people use, although the paint job is different.

"We need to get to the equipment barn."

She can see when the idea connects for the others. The construction equipment parked in or around the barn is weaponry in its own way.

Even better, it's a route almost entirely out of sight of the invaders. They set out at a run.

~*~ Beth ~*~

Beth groans. The force of the explosion sent her sprawling in the upstairs hallway, and she's fairly sure that her left arm is broken. She's soaking wet from the sprinklers.

She prays they won't fire on the house itself next and crawls into the bathroom to see how she can rig the arm. The joy of living in a house once home to several student athletes is leftover medical gear, like the splint from Honey's arm surgery years ago.

She gets the splint strapped on and swallows a couple of Aleve. She's not calling this quits until she has to.

Her radio is damaged in the fall, so she tosses the inoperable unit in the floor. There's probably an extra in the office, so she gathers her rifle and makes her way downstairs.

The gun safe has been accessed, because half the guns are gone. She adds to her ammo bag and takes one of the two radios. At the last minute, she takes a well-worn hunting knife. Her own belt knife is serviceable, but having two is never a bad thing.

Another explosion booms outside. She can only pray no one is hurt.

It's time to find another sniper's nest that doesn't draw fire on one of their bunker locations.

~*~ CP ~*~

When the watch building also explodes, Carol and Gabriel are at the right angle to see that Amalia and Dale were attempting to flee. Amalia is flung out of the danger zone by the force of the blast, but Carol can't see Dale.

With Gabriel carrying the big backpack medkit from her office so she can carry the weaponry he has so far refused to learn to use, they use the cover of the wreckage itself to creep forward.

Amalia is rousing as they reach her. "Don't move just yet," Carol cautions as she begins an examination.

"Where's Dale?"

Carol looks toward the building. Dale made it out, but he's half under mangled sheet metal from the destroyed container building. Gabriel leaves her the medkit and crawls forward to take Dale's wrist, fingers on the pulse.

"He's alive."

That speeds up Carol's exam. The other woman isn't having any major bleeding, just small scrapes and cuts and one hell of a road rash along her face and right arm. "Can you sit up?"

With Carol's help, Amalia makes it up, groaning. "Broken ribs, I think. But I can walk. Go help Dale."

The older man is breathing shallowly, and Carol helps Gabriel ease the sheet metal off Dale.

"Sweet Jesus," she murmurs. Beside her, Gabriel begins to pray softly. She works quickly, getting an improvised splint on the leg with the compound fracture and applying pressure bandages to the larger wounds.

"He needs the operating room," she says as she covers Dale with a shock blanket from her kit after activating two ice packs to tape near the fracture to ease swelling. "Try to find something flat we can put him on."

Gabriel stays low, but manages to drag a mostly intact door out of the rubble. Praying there's no spinal damage, they get Dale onto the makeshift stretcher by careful sliding and lifting. She knows her participation alarms Gabriel, but what lifting she's doing is within safe limits.

But there's the ultimate problem. Amalia has broken ribs and Carol shouldn't lift over fifty pounds.

"Can we tie him down?" Gabriel asks. "Then I can drag him like a travois?"

There's nothing in her kit sturdy enough, but a scramble of the debris field lets them improvise. Once she has Dale strapped down, she radios in.

"I've got Dale and Amalia. Is there any safe route to the infirmary?"

The nursing home and community center both block the infirmary from the last position she saw the Bradley, but there's been gun fire since, including a heavier sound she assumes is some sort of heavy machine gun.

"Directly, no. You'd be exposed. But Patricia's got a team at the equipment barn. They could use something to cover you from anything but another missile."

"We'll start toward the laundromat. Have someone meet us there."

That'll give them distance and more cover, even if the laundromat is another flimsy container building.

"I'll relay. They're working on taking that thing out. The one to the south is destroyed. Jazz and Eugene. Stay safe, Carol."

Carol feels a combined surge of pride and fear, but signs off with Amy.

They edge toward the meeting point, Carol alert for anyone coming on them from behind.

~*~ EP ~*~

Tyreese stops only long enough to help free the two survivors from the wreckage and to ensure the other nine don't rise. The bridge isn't accessible by the work truck due to the wreckage, so the big man says he'll leave it with Jazz and Eugene.

"Hershel's taking a team up to the main property. They've got another of these monsters up there. Lenore's bringing another here. You two get them to the infirmary."

"They came to invade us. Why are we saving them?" one of the young women objects.

"Because we need information." Tyreese meets Eugene's gaze evenly. "Do you understand that, Eugene?"

He keeps from shuddering by some miracle at the venom in the normally kindly man's voice. "Yes, I understand exactly what is necessary."

Tyreese studies him for a minute and nods. When he turns and runs across the bridge, his seven heavily armed crew members follow.

Jazz has the more injured survivor ready as best he can with the EMT kit from the work truck. They lift the man into the back of the truck. The man screams, his legs mangled probably beyond saving.

The woman Jazz manages to lift solo, but she's at least unconscious, either from a head injury or the pain of her burns. Eugene knows the teenager heard Tyreese's order when he zip ties the woman's wrist to the severely injured man.

"In case she's faking being unconscious." He closes the tailgate.

Eugene slides into the driver's seat, knowing Jazz can work the gates faster.

They're almost to the Eldridge gate when he realizes just how pale Jazz is and that he's breathing a little shallowly. It could be the fact settling in that Jazz just killed nine people, or it could be the orders for information. He gambles on it being the latter.

"Jasper." Eugene waits for the young man to look at him. "What Tyreese ordered, that's not for you to do. It's my task, not yours."

The relieved smile as Jazz slides out of the truck to get the gate confirms his guess.

He feels no qualms at questioning monsters like those in the back of the truck. But he'll spare the teenager that much at least.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol and Amalia are standing guard while Gabriel takes Dale's pulse again. "Holding steady," he says.

The equipment barn doors are open now. Even as two people run for equipment too large to park inside, one of the smaller front end loaders emerges from the barn, chugging their way at high speed.

Carol's only a little surprised to see Lori at the controls. She fumbles a little and drops the bucket to the ground.

"Redneck ambulance." She jumps down to help Gabriel get Dale loaded into the bucket.

Amalia climbs into the driver's seat. She's more experienced with such equipment and lifting the bucket goes more smoothly. As Lori darts forward to see if it's safe to venture into the open area, there's a massive explosion.

"Someone got the tank thing. It's in multiple pieces," Lori reports.

As they use the front end loader as cover in case any fighters have advanced beyond the invading vehicles, Carol hears the rumbling growl of more heavy equipment underway.

She looks back to see a bulldozer and an excavator moving as fast as their tracks allow toward the invaders. With the Bradley gone, all hell's about to break loose on those bastards.

~*~ DC ~*~

Denise is supposed to be a doctor. Do no harm. But she reminds herself firmly that that oath was never meant to apply to a situation like this.

She could have stayed in the Eldridge shelter to guard and look after the children. But she's able bodied and trained, and even if she can't manage to make herself fire on a living human, her medical skills may be needed.

She tries to remember all the lessons she's been given for defense as the truck Hershel's driving pulls through the gate.

There's rifle fire in erratic pops and the scarier repetitive sound of automatic weapons.

Whether or not she'll be able to take a life is rendered a moot point as Hershel angles the truck toward the infirmary. It rattles to a stop and everyone piles out.

"Denise and I are needed to operate. The rest of you see about what can be done to help those fighting."

Operate? Dear God, she hopes it isn't critical. She doesn't voice the thought and is grateful she didn't as they shed their weaponry to scrub in.

Beyond the tiny scrub room, she can see Carol setting up an IV for Dale. The older man lays unnaturally still as she works, only the slow rise of his chest revealing he's alive.

"Status?" Hershel calls out as he enters the operating room with Denise right behind him.

"Double compound leg fracture on the left leg. I applied pressure to stop the bleeding and ice to ease swelling to get him here. I haven't had time to X-ray his ribs too, but I suspect broken ribs. Breath sounds are clear and pulse point in his left ankle strong."

Denise moves to verify the pulse, even as Hershel performs his own exam, staring at the films Carol has displayed of the leg fracture. He quietly orders morphine and propofol doses for the IV.

"Have you done something this complex before?" she asks as she meets him to examine the bones where they've torn through flesh.

His blue gaze is reassuring as always, even with his face half hidden behind a surgical mask. "Did you know that the long bones of dogs and cats are similar to people? This sort of injury is common enough when a dog is hit by a car."

Reassured, she lets him guide her through the surgery even as Carol's dismissed to help with more patient arrivals.

~*~ MD ~*~

"How are you not losing your damned mind?"

Merle startles a little when Abraham speaks suddenly.

"Oh, I'm so far gone I can barely think." He sighs, reminding himself once again to not grip the steering wheel so tight it hurts. "But losing it completely right now won't help anyone."

All the gratitude he felt this morning that half his family was staying behind is sitting like poison in his belly now. His home is under attack and while the most vulnerable members of the family are safe, the others aren't.

Cricket's voice is a little steadier when the radio activates this time. "Both Bradleys have been destroyed. Nine confirmed dead in the southern Bradley, two taken prisoner on Tyreese's orders."

As with all communications, Scout replies. "Who has charge of the prisoners?"

"Eugene and Jazz. They're the ones who took out the Bradley."

Merle snags the radio mike, breaking the comms pattern because he's not entirely sure Scout will make the same call. "Jasper is not to be part of any questioning."

Cricket's reply comes quickly. "He's with Mama now at the infirmary. Neither prisoner is able to answer questions yet. They got pretty mangled by the blast."

That makes Merle relax. Carol would never allow Jazz to be involved in any interrogation.

"And the other Bradley?"

"They took advantage of a distraction provided by Patricia and Ronnie charging in with construction equipment. Whatever Jim fired probably didn't leave any survivors."

There's no way to know how many were inside the other Bradley. Different configurations change the troop capacity. He's hoping it was set up like the other one. That'll reduce the danger to the Homesteaders.

"Any update on roll calls?"

"All children are now accounted for in shelters. Axel had to take several into a root cellar before the Bradley was disabled. Dale and Amalia survived. Dale's in surgery."

He might not always get along with the old man, but he's damned glad he's still alive.

"And the teens?"

"That's a mixed list. Most of the older ones are out on teams with adults."

"Damn. Do you have any counts on the enemy yet?"

With nine dead, two incapacitated, and an unknown number in the second Bradley, they can only account for eleven for certain, and anywhere from three to thirteen more.

"At least forty loose up here. Tyreese thinks thirty on the horse farm when they arrived. They exited the vehicles when his people and Lenore's attacked."

Jesus Christ, that's not enough of their people.

"Patricia scattered a lot with the bulldozer and I can see at least two bodies in her wake. She's making the turn to try again. Ronnie's using the excavator to beat the hell out of the big military truck they used to breach the walls."

Abraham whistles. "Woman's hell on wheels. You know it was her idea."

"Tell her to be careful. If they've got Bradleys, they could have heavy ordinance. The dozer won't survive anti-tank measures," Scout replies. "We're an hour out. Hang in there."

The radio goes silent and Merle takes a deep breath. Their people are outnumbered and were surprised, but they're fighting back.

He grabs his radio. "Daryl. Once we hit Cherokee County, start off-roading where you can."

"Hell yeah."

That'll shave some time and the Humvees can handle it.

He takes a deep breath and hooks the radio back. Abraham's hands shake as he lights a cigar.

One more hour.

~*~ Gareth ~*~

"Those assholes think they can take us down with just ten people?" Cynthia's tone is disbelieving.

"If they've spied, they probably saw a place with mostly women and thought we were soft," his mother remarks.

Gareth looks at the people gathering in the big corridor they've adapted into a lovely greenhouse. His people are suited up in body armor with enough weaponry to take down three times the number currently breaking in their gates with bolt cutters.

"Let's go educate them about their poor decision making," he says.

None of the answering grins are pleasant.

Neither will be the endings of these predatory monsters.

~*~ Jazz ~*~

Jazz finishes covering the burn wounds on the still unconscious woman. Behind him, the male prisoner is under the care of Dr. S and Patrick. The older teen passed his nursing exams three weeks ago, and today he's assisting on a double amputation. With Dale in the sole operating room, they're essentially performing field surgery in the hospital ward.

He rechecks the woman's restraints before approaching his mother at the nurse's desk. She's on the radio with the surgeon at Hilltop. He doesn't know if the consult is for all their patients or just Dale, and he doesn't really care.

"Hold on a minute, Emmett." She manages some sort of smile. "Do you need me?"

"Can we give her something to keep her asleep right now?" It's not entirely kindness, although he knows from Scout's burns that getting anything coherent from the woman would be unusual. He just doesn't want her awake to disturb anyone working.

Carol reaches for a vial on her desk and draws up a dose. "You've done IV meds with Hershel, right?"

He nods and takes the syringe. "What about antibiotics?"

"I'll ask Emmett for his recommendation and bring something in a minute."

They could be wasting medication for someone who'll be sentenced to die anyway, but as long as it's an unknown, this is how it goes.

He's startled to see his patient is awake as he steps up to the IV.

"Hurts."

He looks to where Eugene is helping Lilly with a gunshot wound on one of their people and hesitates.

He holds up the syringe. "Morphine. Did your leader come today?"

She sucks in a shaking breath. "Not where I did."

"But he's here?"

"Yeah."

He slowly injects the morphine into port on her IV and watches as it takes almost immediate effect.

She's blinking heavily and he takes her pulse as she relaxes. He almost doesn't hear her speak.

"He said the women were prisoners here."

She's let her head loll to watch his mother at the desk.

"They aren't. That's my mother. She's in charge here."

He can't resist a gentle squeeze of her hand. It draws her eyes back to him. She's studying his face and seems to believe him.

"He lied." Tears start rolling down her face.

"Don't worry. He'll pay for that."

She's drifting off under the morphine, so he returns to Carol with the information he's gleaned.

~*~ EP ~*~

"Eugene."

He's cleaning his hands from helping the pretty nurse with the thankfully minor bullet wound that one of the meal staff ladies came in to have treated. He recognizes her as the young woman tortured at Terminus, but today she's in body armor with a rifle at her side.

He suspects she'll be right back in the fray as soon as Lilly finishes her bandaging.

But it's Jazz calling his name. The teenagers expression is serious as he speaks. "Don't question the prisoners."

"Jasper, please tell me you didn't."

"Not on purpose. She just started talking when I was working." It might not be the entire truth, Eugene thinks, but whatever he did isn't bothering Jazz.

"And?"

"Some of them may be here under false pretenses. It's garbled, but she thought she was saving imprisoned women."

"That complete and utter bastard."

"Yeah. They don't need me here right now. Will you go with me back out there?"

Eugene reaches for the body armor he shed while helping Lilly. He gives Jazz a grim smile. "Let's go reeducate the heathens then."

~*~ LG ~*~

Scout once tried to explain the sort of numbness that settles in to allow you to survive a battle. It offsets the lifelong conditioning not to take human life, replacing it with the drive to protect and survive.

It's hard to tell the exact number she's killed, weaving among buildings and debris, keeping moving to add to the chaos. She's not the only one out there.

Patricia's ongoing attack with the dozer has the people on the field running into the line of fire. Few even attempt to fire at the dozer, and none of those manage to hit the cab.

Ronnie's smashed their vehicles and removed their ability to escape. He uses the excavator bucket to flip the trailer attached to a military style semi truck. She thinks he's attempting to use the trailer to block the hole in the wall.

That's when the horror begins, because once the trailer flips, its horrific cargo is revealed.

"They brought walkers," she all but yells into her radio.

There's no reply, but the big warning sirens go off to spread the terrible news over voice broadcast.

She's searching for a perch, anywhere high like she's been taught, when she sees one of the bastards has ahold of sixteen-year-old Jenny. The girl's fighting with every ounce of her training, but he's trapped her by her long braid, and outweighs her by at least a hundred pounds.

Lori takes aim, but then the man's attacked with a shout. It takes her a minute to recognize Jazz.

Her nephew's furious attack gets Jenny freed, and she scrambles to Lori. She's sobbing, her face bloody, and Lori shoves her behind her.

She can't take a shot, because it risks shooting Jazz instead. The invader isn't as big as Jazz, but he manages to get the butt of his gun up and smash it into the boy's face. Jazz drops like a stone.

She fires, but it's not the head shot she wanted.

Her target turns and fires at her.

There's an impact that burns like nothing she's ever felt, and she can't get her breath. The world spins as she wonders how she ended up on her knees.

~*~ EP ~*~

Eugene feels like his heart is going to stop when Jazz hits the ground. The blooming wound on the man's shoulder gets his attention off Jazz, but him shooting Lori is just as horrifying.

His own shot isn't as steady as it should be, but it drops the man to his knees. Before Eugene can fire again, Jazz is back upright and has the attacker in a chokehold. There's blood all over one side of his face, reminding Eugene of his own after the fight with Abraham.

The teenager forces the wounded man to his feet. Just when Eugene thinks Jazz is trying to send the man unconscious, Jazz braces his body and makes a wrenching jerk with his arms.

It's probably all in his head, but he swears he hears the attacker's neck snap from here.

Jazz drops the man into a crumpled pile and dives for Lori, crying out her name.

The pause Eugene takes to put a bullet in the dead man's head is what saves him from being hit by rifle fire from somewhere up high.

Jazz isn't so lucky. He throws his bulk across Lori on the ground as first one round and then a second impacts the body armor plates in his vest.

It's Gabriel, crouched near the rabbit barn, who points toward the main barn. Eugene spots the sniper in the hayloft as he fires again.

The priest is leaning out into the open, hooking his fingers around the strap of Jazz's rifle, which spun away when he dove to cover his aunt. Eugene prays the man has some clue on how to fire the weapon, especially since it's customized for Jazz being left handed.

Gabriel's shot goes wide, embedding beside the hayloft, but it's enough to give Eugene an opening.

He runs for the barn with everything he has.

~*~ LG ~*~

"I got you, Tiha."

Lori can barely breathe through the pain. She wonders randomly if this is how Rick felt, bleeding on that roadside. Did Shane cry over him as he used his hands to keep him from bleeding to death.

Jazz isn't hiding the tears at all, his face damp as he curls around and over her. She can feel the tears track into her skin.

It takes longer to realize her nephew is literally using his own body to protect her from being shot again.

There's shouting and Jazz levers upright with a grunt of pain. There's the sound of Velcro being ripped open and then more pain, more pressure.

"Just getting the pressure bandage on before I lift you. Hold on, Tiha." His face is bloody and damaged, but he gives her a shaky smile when she reaches for his jaw, trying to see how badly he's hurt.

"We gotta fix you first," he insists.

Gabriel's at her other side, helping Jazz roll her to repeat the process at her back.

Then she's being lifted, not by Jazz, but by the priest, because the teenager is stumbling as he rises.

"Run, Father Gabriel, please, just run."

Pain rockets through her like none she's ever felt and she gives in to the darkness waiting.


	94. Fall of the Governor, Part 5

**June 30, 2011**

~*~ DD ~*~

"Terminus is secure. We are on our way to reinforce Homestead."

"Take the west entrance and reinforce Tyreese's people there. Daryl's group will hit the south gate. How many are with you?" Scout asks.

"All of us."

Gareth's matter-of-fact tone delivers some of the best news Daryl's heard all day. That's twenty-nine fighters, excluding Gareth's pregnant wife.

"We need Edwards at the infirmary as soon as they arrive." It's not Cricket this time, and it's in English.

"Glynnis? Where's Cricket?" Scout asks.

"We've got multiple wounded and needed her on duty."

"How bad is it?"

"Most aren't critical, but there's three surgeries underway and we only have so many doctors."

"Who?"

"Dale's surgery is nearly done. Caleb was doing a double amputation on one of the prisoners Jazz and Eugene brought in." Glynnis pauses, and Daryl urges her to finish the damned report.

"Glynnis?" Even Scout sounds alarmed.

"Lori. I don't know the details yet, but Hershel and Caleb pulled off their surgeries. A sniper accessed the hayloft until Eugene took him out. Eugene's holding the position to cover our people and prevent a repeat."

Daryl draws on every iota of his law enforcement training and of being at Scout's bedside in Texas to not lose his damned mind. It won't help his wife.

He feels a heavy hand on his shoulder and glances over to verify it's Brady.

That centers him. The man's eight months pregnant wife didn't take shelter and they don't know her status.

If his partner can manage to hold onto his shit, so can Daryl. They're maybe twenty minutes from home and Lori's in Hershel's hands. He saved Merle from sunstroke that should have killed him. He won't fail Lori.

~*~ Beth ~*~

The advantage Beth has that the invaders don't is that this is her home. She knows it almost as well as she knows the farm she grew up on.

She doesn't want the barns targeted any more than the residences, so she improvises. The massive oak just beyond the pastures is in rifle range. A tug of the pulley drops the rope ladder.

Once she's ascended to the platform hidden among the branches, she pulls up the pulley rope and ladder. No one can surprise her up here.

She stretches out on the smooth wood floor of the semi-treehouse and angles her rifle through the railing. When the Bradley explodes into a twisted hulk, she smiles grimly and begins to fire even as Patricia makes her first charge with the dozer.

The moving targets are even harder now, but she pushes away the guilt as she puts a bullet in the back of a man who scrambled behind the biggest truck for cover.

The destroyed trailer pouring forth walkers makes her shudder. She's safe up here, but there are easily a dozen of her people, from teenagers to adults, who aren't. All she can do is continue to shoot until she runs out of ammo.

Staying in the tree is no longer an option if she's not helping. She's got boots on the ground and her borrowed Glock in her hand when she gets snagged unexpectedly as she nears the rabbit barn.

"Holy shit, Beth, it's me." Alex spits blood from the split lip and bloody nose that result from her using the Glock as a blunt object.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry!"

He shakes off the apology, holding a bandana to his nose. "One of their men went in the back of the barn. I think he's going after Eugene."

So that's who is in the hayloft. "Then let's stop him."

"I'm out of ammo." He flourishes a bloody knife.

She's still got an extra magazine and his Glock matches Shane's, so she hands it over. "Gotta make it count."

He nods, dropping the bloody bandana as they make a run for the other barn.

There's the sound of ferocious growling and rapid gunfire. The pained yelp makes Beth run faster, wondering which of the dogs encountered the intruder.

The man scrambling to his feet from under Augustus's still form is badly mauled on one arm. Before he shot him, the huge catahoula ripped the forearm to shreds. In lieu of Honey to protect, Augustus chose Eugene.

Beth can't mourn the brave animal yet. She ducks into a stall to avoid the panicked firing he turns on them. Alex dives into the opposite.

They can't just wait. With the dog badly injured or dead, they've got to have Eugene's back.

There's a click of the gun running out of ammo, and Alex springs into action. It's a moment too soon, because rather than reload, the man's got a second gun. Alex drops, rolling and trailing blood.

She fires a little randomly herself, trying to appear the bigger danger than her wounded friend. It works, and she creeps forward when the man runs out of ammo again. Her own Glock is empty and she drops it to draw her Walther instead.

The man hesitates in reloading his gun when she steps into full view.

"Penny? You shouldn't have that gun, baby. Guns are dangerous."

He must be delusional. The concerned parent voice is scarier than the gun he holds.

"Governor! Look out!" Beth didn't see the wounded woman until she shouts and she has to duck back into a stall as she's fired on.

"You shot at my daughter."

Multiple shots ring out.

When Beth looks again, the woman's bleeding out on the barn floor. Eugene's at the door to the tack room, where the stairs are hidden, ejecting the magazine from his gun to reload and coming up with nothing from his holster.

More importantly, the Governor is wounded again, bleeding from his shoulder. But he's not dead yet, instead holding a gun on Eugene with an increasingly shaking hand.

"Hey, asshole. You the type of testosterone ridden neanderthal that can only shoot women and girls?" Eugene taunts.

She edges forward, praying if the man fires, he'll hit Eugene's body armor. The Walther jams, failing to fire, but she can't fail the faith Eugene's placing in her. Remembering the big hunting knife, she unsheathes it and creeps forward.

The Governor fires twice just as she reaches him. She digs into the muscle memory of every lesson with Abraham and Scout and drives the blade into his unprotected lower back, shoving it upward.

The look of betrayal as he turns, gun dropping to the barn floor, is satisfying.

Then she's knocked down, and the terrifying sound of a walker is all she can hear. She can't help screaming.

The weight is gone as fast as it hit her and she scrambles away, hearing a brawl behind her but unable to do anything but vomit from sheer terror.

She gathers her wits finally and takes note of her surroundings. The walker lays dead, head caved in beyond recognition by Alex's assault with a shovel. From the clothing, it's the woman who warned the Governor.

She crawls to Eugene, breathing a sigh of relief as the man sits up with a groan. From the damage to his vest, he took at least two rounds to the chest.

"Feels like being kicked by a big Texas mule," he mutters.

He gets to his feet with a groan, going to inspect the man bleeding on the floor. Amazingly, he's not dead yet. Eugene doesn't go for the man's dropped gun, but instead pulls out zip ties and hogties him.

"He can either bleed to death right there or he won't, and he'll face justice."

Beth likes the idea of the man continuing to suffer. She might even patch him up for it to last longer, if she had time.

Remembering Alex is wounded, she drops to her knees beside him. He's cradling his arm as he sits with his back against a stall door.

"Is that where you got shot?" she asks, reaching for his arm.

He resists at first. "It's not a gunshot, Beth. Nothing you can do for me but find where my gun went."

Her tugging pays off even as his words register. On his forearm is the distinct wound left by a walker's tearing teeth. In saving her, he's sacrificed himself.

No. She refuses to just assume it's a death sentence. "Help me get him to his feet, Eugene."

"Beth, it's no use."

"There's always something we can try."

Eugene moves to help her force Alex to his feet. "Listen to her, Alex. There's some theories on how to stop the spread."

"How?" He doesn't sound believing, but he isn't resisting.

"We amputate the arm."

She puts all the confidence she can into those words, even as she begins to pray with all her being that the theory is right.

Better losing the arm than dying.

A whimper draws her attention back to Augustus. The big dog's breathing is labored, but he's still breathing.

"Get him to the infirmary, Eugene."

He hands her the Governor's gun even as he takes Alex's, going back to retrieve the other man where he's leaning on a stall door.

"Watch your back, Beth."

She nods and begins examining Augustus. If the catahoula can just hang on, maybe she can save him.

~*~ Jazz ~*~

Jazz can feel fatigue setting in as he helps Patrick finish sewing the patchwork of skin and muscle over the stumps of the prisoner. His body throbs in multiple places, and he knows the numbness in his cheek is a bad sign.

The jagged wound on his face is held together with steri strips for now, and he's taken no painkillers. His leg does remind him repeatedly that he should be sitting.

Caleb's in the makeshift operating room where Hershel had them take Lori. It's supposed to be an MRI room, but lacking the massive machine, it's private space for the doctors and Carol to concentrate.

Lilly's treating minor wounded, and Felipe is helping Denise finish Dale's surgery. Cricket's in X-ray, trying to see just how dangerous the lack of an exit wound is for Percy from the watch team. The elder man didn't go to the shelter. Instead, he's been out fighting despite being nearly seventy.

Cricket's shouting for Lilly and a surgical kit.

"Dammit. Percy's a good man," Patrick says. He's pale and sweaty, nearly two hours into this complex amputation and now left by the actual doctor to finish on his own.

When Eugene hits the hospital ward, half-dragging a bleeding Alex with him, Jazz knows things are about to get even worse.

At the sign of the bitten forearm, he knows what Eugene wants before the man even speaks. Patrick looks panicky as he hears the request.

Eugene looks around. "Father Gabriel! Come be Patrick's extra hands."

The priest finishes the bandage he's placing with an excess of tape, stepping in as Jazz steps back.

"You've done an amputation with Hershel, right?"

"That was on a dog, Eugene." He makes the protest, even as he rotates Alex's arm, noting the tendons and remembering Hershel's lessons. He watched the first of the leg amputations earlier, and an arm should be easier than a leg.

"He saved Beth."

"Go grab the morphine off the nurse's desk."

"This isn't safe," Alex says as Eugene dashes away. "I could die and turn."

Jazz shoves him gently down on the bed that's about to serve as an operating table. "Eugene will strap you down. We'll have to do that anyway. I don't know the dose for humans for easier anesthetics, so I'm about to hit you with ketamine."

He goes to raid the supplies from Patrick's patient, knowing there's vials of ketamine. Caleb put his patient under with the drug, and there's leftover vials. It'll affect Alex's memory and maybe cause him to hallucinate, but he thinks maybe the man won't mind losing any of this.

Eugene returns with the morphine, syringes, a clean set of scalpels, and an IV kit.

He draws up the ketamine, remembering the dosage from earlier. He jabs Alex to release the dose, not waiting from the IV.

Eugene's improvised restraints as Jazz grabs the bonesaw from the earlier amputation. He starts the IV, yelling for Jenny to help him sterilize the bonesaw. Her face is already bruising from the broken nose, but she moves to help.

Alex is unconscious now. He tests the ketamine's effectiveness by drawing his scalpel down the crease of the elbow. When there's no reaction, he begins work in earnest.

~*~ CP ~*~

The last time Carol assisted in a surgery this complex, it was Hershel and Edwards fighting to save Joanne from Terminus after she was shot protecting Cynthia. Even Edwards admitted Joanne surviving was as much miracle as medical skill.

She pushes all the fear for her sister-in-law to the back of her mind, using the same techniques she used to survive Ed. They have to save Lori, not just for her children or Daryl's sake, but for everyone who loves the woman.

The only saving grace of the gunshot wound is that it missed both her intestines and her lungs, but the damage it's done to her liver is massive. Her gallbladder's beyond saving, and the bullet shattered ribs on entrance and exit.

"Bleeding's not responding to packing, Hershel. We're going to have to resect the liver." Caleb's voice displays the anxiety Carol feels at his words.

The veterinarian nods, glancing at Carol across the gurney-turned-operating-table. "We're going to need blood, and a lot of it, Carol. Can you find donors?"

She glances to the nearly depleted bag of O positive that Father Gabriel donated when they used all of the blood stored in the infirmary fridge between Dale and the double amputee. Amalia donated blood for her fellow watchman to push their supply this far.

Carol makes a dash for the hospital ward, frantically searching her memory as she catalogs who is in the ward and their blood type. With Lori being O positive, it reduces the possibilities far more than it would for Dale being A positive.

Several present would work, but they're working on patients, like Jazz, Eugene, and Patrick. She tries not to think about the fact that her son's battered face is literally patched together with steri strips as he works frantically over a patient. There's a flash of red hair and she sees Carl's young girlfriend Audrey. The girl's pale and blood spattered, but it's from helping Lilly and not being wounded herself.

"Audrey! I need you to donate blood." In a perfect world, she would not be asking a fourteen-year-old girl to donate blood, but their world hasn't been perfect for a very long time now.

The redhead nods, finishing the splint she's in the middle of with efficient movements. "Maybe some of the ones in the shelter can donate? The older kids."

May God forgive her, but that's exactly what Carol's about to ask them to do.

~*~ Beth ~*~

Beth needs more supplies than she has to even begin to save Augustus. She's already ripped off her own overshirt, as well as some of the dead woman-turned-walker's clothing to make makeshift bandages. The catahoula whines feebly as she works.

She spies one of the heavy-duty wagons just inside the tack room and grabs it, lifting the dog that weighs nearly as much as she does onto the wagon. The man responsible for Augustus's wounds groans, begging feebly for Penny to help him.

"Hang in there, Augie. I'm going to fix you. You just gotta hang on, boy."

She drapes a horse blanket over him and pulls the wagon to the door of the barn, wondering why they've never thought to have an emergency veterinary kit stored here. She'll make sure that changes later.

Peeking out shows her the most welcome sight she's ever seen. It's not all their people, but there's a pair of Humvees roaring across the property toward the fighting. A smaller truck all but slides to a stop in front of the infirmary and Edwards bails out of the passenger seat, already running.

She takes advantage of the distraction of the arriving reinforcements and runs toward the infirmary herself.

~*~ MD ~*~

The closer they got to Homestead, the more the poisonous feeling of guilt and fear settles in Merle's gut. By the time he's throwing the Humvee into park, it's like someone's setting him aflame from the inside out.

Daryl's teams and Terminus beat them by ten minutes or so, but Scout's split their remaining forces. She sent three teams to the horse farm, two to the south gate Daryl's teams already accessed, and two to breached thicket wall to the north.

His teams have to leave their Humvees to cross the river. The battered and overturned fifty-three-foot trailer makes using the improvised bridge impossible for a vehicle. They squeeze by the wreckage, hearing the growl of at least some trapped walkers within the structure.

"Russell, Xavier. See if you can access that thing to kill them. We don't want them finding an escape hatch and surprising anyone." The former Guardsman and forester peel off to do as ordered, leaving him with just Miriam and the three other teams.

The scene before them is pure chaos. There are too many people and walkers to safely use their guns. The gap between the pasture fences and the nursing home is teaming with movement. He can see bodies all the way to the bleachers and prays they're either walkers or invaders.

"Looks like we're doing this the hard way," Abraham says.

"Keep with your partners and let's take these bastards down," Merle orders.

The reinforcements wade into the fray.

~*~ MG ~*~

"I need to go help."

Maggie expects an argument out of Michonne. There aren't any other trained adult fighters in the storm shelter by the Eldridge farmhouse. Her father took everyone over the age of fifteen when he left, sending half with Lenore to reinforce Tyreese and taking the rest with him.

Even Karen and Andrea left, their pregnancies still not so advanced as to make them more of a hindrance than a help.

"I'm not letting you out of here to fight, Maggie Rhee. The line of people to stomp my ass would be ten people deep." Michonne's tone brooks no arguments.

Maggie shakes her head, looking at the faces of the frightened children. Twenty-six of them were enjoying their day off school by helping in the fields.

"Not to fight. To the infirmary. I may just be a vet tech, but I can help." It's not a skill she's utilized much since coming to Homestead, except when her father needs more hands than he has. She and Patricia both have left that work to Hershel's apprentices, for the most part.

Michonne looks around the shelter, taking note of the four teens left behind for being too young. "You kids think you can keep everyone on lockdown here?" she asks.

"I don't have to have an escort, Michonne."

The glare she gets would make someone less determined wet themselves, Maggie thinks.

"If you think I'm letting you go out there without a trained gun at your side, you're delusional."

Katherine's daughter Valerie stands from where she's been sitting on a bunk, comforting the smallest kids. The determined look on her young face reminds Maggie so much of her mother, presumed among the fighters defending the northern property. It reminds her that the fourteen-year-old survived months in the hellhole that was Grady.

"We'll keep them safe. Lots of the kids know how to fight, too, not just us."

With any luck, none of the invaders will find the storm shelter or access it since it locks from inside, but Maggie realizes that they've got a good number of the Grady kids in here. Even Katherine's ten-year-old has been on the range, training with Honey.

"Lock the door and don't open it for anyone you don't personally know," she orders.

Valerie nods, patting her radio.

Maggie follows Michonne out into the open air, waiting just long enough to hear the locking mechanisms of the storm shelter door being rotated into place.

"We gonna make a run for it?" Michonne asks.

"Nope. We're gonna ride."

The other woman laughs, the sound more dangerous than joyful, and runs behind Maggie as they run for the tractor.

~*~ SW ~*~

Shane's fighting with the wickedly sharp machete he was given back at the quarry, Rick at his back like they've done for so many years. There's too much chance of friendly fire as they help regain control of Homestead.

He can barely spare the time to pray Scout's teams at the horse farm are dealing with fewer numbers, but he doubts it. The gate's completely down there, and there was a report from Tyreese that the big property sirens and other battle noise were drawing walkers from outside as well as those dumped on both fronts by the semi-trucks.

His arm is aching. He uses the machete to decapitate a walker that's got a woman pinned to the ground. She's fighting with everything she has to keep the beast off her.

He doesn't recognize her, but suddenly he can't trust his memory to remember all of their people on sight.

"Rick!"

His partner turns and stares. "Holy shit, she's been mauled."

"Not by the dead," the woman begs. "A big dog. Please… he said we were saving people here."

Scout reluctantly accepted the order Carol put out to take prisoners if they surrendered, and Shane realizes he doesn't have it in him to risk just executing the unarmed and mangled woman.

"We'll take her."

Danny and T-Dog are already kneeling, T-Dog dragging the emergency blanket from his vest supplies to use as an improvised stretcher.

He uses the brief respite to assess the field, realizing the numbers of people upright have dwindled. There's only their own people and a few staggering figures that are the remnants of the special hell the Governor unleashed on them.

"Anybody know if we got the leader yet?"

He waits for the radio reply. Amy's voice is calm and collected. She's been running the property radio system all day, the one they repurposed from local law enforcement, leaving first Cricket and then Glynnis to run the ham radio that accesses outside the property.

"Eugene says he was left restrained and bleeding in the main barn."

"Rick and I will verify that. Eugene sure of the identity?"

"It's based on one of the Woodbury people's ID, so as much as we can be."

"Alright." He looks at Rick. "Let's go check out the monster, brother."

For once, Rick's expression bears not one ounce of the kindly white knight.

~*~ MG ~*~

Maggie considers driving the tractor right up to the infirmary itself, but she can't risk blocking access like that. Michonne already had to disable an intruder that somehow made it past the bulk of the buildings to the gate into the Eldridge farm.

The young man, barely more than a teenager, fell to his knees, pleading for his life when Michonne took aim. He's restrained and in the bucket on the front of the tractor. They leave him there and run for the infirmary.

The scene is organized chaos, but Maggie's called back from the ward by Beth's frantic, "Maggie, help me, please!"

Her sister is in the small room set up as a tiny dental office, kneeling on the floor. Her clothing is covered in blood, her blonde hair escaping its tight braids.

"Beth, are you hurt?"

"Not me." Beth bites back a sob, and Maggie finally notices her sister's patient. She's got the big dog intubated and unconscious, but he's bleeding from multiple gunshot wounds. "Please help me, Maggie. He was fighting too."

She lowers herself to her knees too. "Let's get him fixed, Bethie, just like Daddy taught us."

Her baby sister nods, taking a deep breath and going back to work now that she's got a second set of hands.

~*~ Scout ~*~

Scout considers dropping the gore-covered shillelagh at her own feet in exhaustion as her gaze assesses they've turned the tide completely on the horse farm. Tyreese limps forward, a makeshift bandage tied around one thigh.

"Gather anyone wounded and take them to the infirmary," she orders. "I'll regroup the rest and sweep the property for strays or stragglers."

"What about the prisoners?" Her fellow council member disagrees with the order to accept surrenders at this stage, she knows. Scout agrees, but that's also the reason why she isn't solely in charge of such decisions by her own choice.

If Carol has evidence that some of these people were deceived into this attack, she's going to withhold judgement until she knows otherwise. They've taken six prisoners here, four who actively surrendered and two too wounded to fight back. At least one looks like he's barely older than Jazz or Sophia.

"We'll secure them and transport them once we've got the gate better secured. Take the two wounded with you."

Right now, they stopped the influx of even more walkers drawn by the noise of battle and sirens by plugging the gap where the gate once was with debris from the destroyed farmhouse that once housed the Dixon neighbors on this side of the river. Scout's grateful that they keep the front-end loaders on all the property tractors for carrying manure and compost, because it allowed them to use the tractor as a bulldozer.

But it's not a perfect fix, and she isn't risking that the dead can shove debris aside in enough numbers, even if the bridge is mostly blocked to cross the river. Tyreese is going to have to undo that block to get the wounded to medical help.

He gives the order, pausing as those able-bodied move to help those who aren't into the back of one of the Humvees. The military vehicle is big enough he can probably use it to push the remains of the Bradley out of the path of the bridge. "That going to leave you with enough people?"

"We've cleared worse situations with less, remember?"

He gives her a tired, lackluster smile. Yeah, he remembers, just like she does, of those terrible, horrifying first weeks getting out of Florida and into southern Georgia.

"Be safe, Marine."

"You too, Ty."

As soon as the Humvee trundles off, she surveys those remaining. "Everyone, partner up. We've got to make this place safe."

She's partnerless herself, Christopher hopefully making his way here even now. That final Humvee didn't fly along the roads in a desperate attempt for arrival.

"You need someone to cover your back, Staff Sergeant."

Gareth's gore-spattered and soaked with sweat, just like she is.

"Let's get this done."

The Governor thought he could take their people by surprise, and maybe he did, attacking with the bulk of their fighters gone. But he's learned the hard way that appearances can be deceiving. Amy's reporting the fighting to the north is ended too, and the Governor fallen to his own hubris.

Homestead has survived.

_A/N: _

_From the time I conceived the plot that the Governor would attack Homestead while they were vulnerable, it was always Beth who would take him down. Many reviewers on Ao3 suggested Carol or Scout, but I think a man like this, who destroys instead of saves, needed to fall at the hands of someone barely more than a child. (Besides, I had to make up for the idiotic end they gave Beth on the show.)_

_Not all questions are answered yet, I know. There's at least three Aftermath chapters to come, but this is the point where the action dials back. _


	95. Aftermath, Part 1

**June 30, 2011**

~*~ MD ~*~

The need to go to check on the kids and Carol, to find out how Lori's doing, is damn near overwhelming, but with the Governor defeated, someone has to organize the cleanup. He's the only currently available council member to take charge. Carol, Hershel, and Patricia are working to save the wounded, Tyreese is wounded himself, and Scout's still on the horse farm doing the same duty as he is.

And Shane? He's got ahold of the bastard behind all this terror. The Governor has somehow survived being shot, stabbed, and mauled, and as much as the thought of wasting medical supplies and time on the man galls Merle, he isn't arguing with Shane not just executing him on the spot.

There are different kinds of closure, and the psychopath's days are numbered either way.

"Merle!"

Morgan's got a nearly wild-eyed look as he pops up from behind the mangled Bradley. It's enough to make him run, assuming Miriam will keep up. Morgan's one of the most unflappable men Merle knows, and if he's looking terrified, there's good reason.

"Oh, Jesus Christ, son." He drops to his knees, trying to assess the mess as Morgan and Ryan move back from Sam. "Ryan? Find Zach and Sasha." He knows both the medic and the firefighter were on teams that were fighting here, and they've more skill and training in the medical field than poor Miriam.

She's a valiant little gal though, dropping down and sliding her medkit off her shoulders. It's not meant for repairing this level of damage, no more than it was for dealing with the tortured spy at Woodbury, but she's trying.

He pulls his radio, reaching out to take Sam's hand. The young man's only twenty-five, with a baby on the way. Merle's seen some gruesome wounds, both in the service and since the dead rose, but this poor kid will rank among his top nightmares.

"Amy, we need one of the doctors to the Bradley right now. I don't care who, but they need a full kit and the strongest painkillers they can bring. And someone please get Ana out of the shelter and get her here as fast as you can."

"Oh, God, not Sam. I'm on it."

Merle's thankful for Amy's nerves of steel today. It's hard to picture the girl from the quarry being in charge of coordinating the chaos of today's battle to save Homestead, but she's excelled.

"Thank you."

He looks down, knowing the bright red blood appearing as Sam speaks those words isn't a good sign. But he's grateful the boy can speak even that much.

"Just hang in there. I got your wife coming." Merle turns to Morgan. "Go get the plasma cutter from the equipment barn." The man gives a quick jerk of a nod and runs off as if the hounds of hell are after him.

The knowledge that no matter who they bring out to fix him isn't going to be enough is already in Sam's eyes. The man's a hunter. He knows a fatal injury better than most.

But he's also a fighter, so going quietly isn't part of his plan. "Merle. Tell her. Don't make baby Junior."

Merle isn't entirely sure he understands why that's important, but he can relay the message. "I will. But she's coming, so you'll tell her yourself."

He looks at Miriam, who is easing a pressure bandage between Sam's hand and the femoral artery he's been holding closed with one hand. As deadly as that injury is, it's the least of them.

Zach and Sasha arrive, the paramedic dropping his kit and setting his young features in that carefully bland way that tells Merle Zach knows what he knows. But he reaches into the big EMT kit and brings out an IV kit and goes to work after handing Miriam a blood pressure cuff.

Sasha assesses the wreckage that Sam's impaled upon. "Merle, even before…"

He nods, glad Sam's nominally watching Zach instead.

Denise is flushed and breathing hard as she skids to a halt. She's not as good with the impassive face as Zach, and Merle watches her take two deep breaths to center.

"Hey doc."

"Hey, Sam." Denise's smile is a little wobbly. "Can you answer a few questions for me? Don't try to talk, just use Merle here for a translator. Squeeze his hand once for yes, twice for no. Can you do that?"

"Yeah." He squeezes Merle's hand as well, so Merle echoes it.

"What's his blood pressure?" Denise asks, holding two vials in her hand.

"Systolic's at eighty," Zach replies.

"Well, Sam, you're gonna get the fun stuff then." Denise drops one vial back into the bag she brought and draws up a dose of the other before passing the syringe and vial to Zach. "Give him half a mil now, another in fifteen minutes."

Merle isn't sure they'll need that second dose of ketamine. Part of holding Sam's hand the way he is lets him feel the pulse in the palm, and it's fading.

"I clamped the femoral artery," Miriam tells Denise.

The doctor leans in to lift the pressure bandage and nods. "Good work. Can you get his pulse in both ankles?"

While Miriam moves to carefully take off Sam's boots with Ryan's assistance, Denise nudges Sasha out of the way to examine what she can see of Sam's back where he's impaled on the wreckage. "Sam? Can you feel what Miriam and Ryan are doing?"

Two squeezes of Merle's hand. "He can't."

"Ana's coming," Ryan alerts. Miriam snatches on Ryan's vest, ripping open the velcro of a pouch to pull out the silver emergency blanket. As soon as he realizes what she's doing, Ryan helps her spread it over Sam to the lower chest.

Ana isn't alone, thank God, because Michonne's with her. Considering Sam was Michonne's supply run partner for months, he understands. He hears her ask about Noris, and that's when he realizes he hasn't seen the fourth team member anywhere.

"Ana, I'm going to let you take my spot right here," Merle tells the young woman. She nods and takes Sam's hand as Merle passes on Denise's yes/no procedure.

He mouths, "Noris?" at Ryan as he passes. The team leader shakes his head, looking grief-stricken. Dammit, the man's got a teenage son down clearing the horse farm with Scout.

Merle joins Sasha and Denise to study the jagged shaft of metal from the Bradley that Sam's impaled upon. "We could cut it, but if he can't roll onto his stomach, we'd just be making it move around."

He understands the question about whether Sam could feel his feet now. The tactical vest saved Sam from the gunshot wound to the chest, but the fall backward into the wreckage shoved the vest out of the way. The shaft of metal first severed his spinal column before moving into soft tissue and causing the horrific damage on his stomach they just hid from his young wife.

"If we can get him cut free, what are the odds?" he asks Denise as quietly as possible.

"Ten, maybe fifteen percent, before. Now?" She shrugs helplessly.

He sees one of the work trucks dodging bodies in the field. Morgan's brought more than the equipment needed to cut the metal. He tosses a backboard to Ryan, reminding Merle they had the damn thing in the work truck in case of fall injuries.

"I brought welding aprons to protect his skin." Morgan passes one to Merle, who edges it behind Sam closest to the vehicle. Morgan drapes the second over Sam's other shoulder, sliding a helmet on as he reaches down to hold the trailing edge in place as close as he can to the entrance wound.

Merle slides his own helmet on and gets the plasma cutter ready to work.

~*~ GR ~*~

"Glenn? How the hell did we manage this?"

Glenn's glad that Tara's at least amused. "Apparently we needed to be gimp buddies?"

"Both of you need to just stick a sock in it," Honey grumbles. The field is clear, but even now, as he and Tara lean against the pasture fence and their teammate plays medic, Tim's standing guard.

"Not the one you just got off my foot, I hope."

"Blood, foot fungus, and all."

"She's kidding, isn't she, Tara?"

"Do you want to risk that?" Tara's already bandaged as best as can be done in the field, her left leg splinted around the pressure bandage on the entry wound in her calf.

He looks at Honey's mulish expression and decides that he wants to make her laugh, not push it too far. He snags the end of her braid and tugs just enough to make her look at him.

"It's fixable, Hannah Banana." Maybe using Jazz's nickname for her will help her settle down.

His left foot feels exactly like you'd think it should if you've been shot in the damn foot, throbbing even as Honey wraps it securely. The steel toe of his boot deflected some of the damage and it's not even bleeding all that much.

Honey sniffles just a little, and he knows she's hitting the adrenaline crash stage already. Glenn and Tara crack jokes, Tim drinks and binge-watches cartoons, and Honey? She cries her stress away.

She does look up finally to respond, face damp with tear tracks.

"Tim's gotta carry Tara, so you're getting a piggyback ride," she tells him.

Normally, a woman saying that would make him laugh, but Honey's three inches taller and at least twenty pounds heavier, with the heavy muscle of a lifelong athlete. If she thinks she can piggyback him all the way to the infirmary, it's going to happen.

"Then I'm really glad cell phone video is a thing of the past," he teases softly.

Tim slides his rifle to his back and kneels to lift Tara. "Oh, be sure, dear leader. The story of your piggyback ride will be spread far and near by the time I'm done." The former ranger grins as he stands, with Tara throwing her arms around his neck.

Knowing Tara really does need to get the leg looked at with what Honey thinks is a fracture, he lets himself be dragged upwards and into position. He can see that she's starting to cry in earnest, so he snags her braid again.

"Yah, mule. That's how it goes, right?"

It makes her giggle, which makes him sorta forget that it feels like his foot is one giant mass of pain. They survived today, their entire team, and he knows Maggie's safe.

Now to find out about the rest.

~*~ DD ~*~

"Daryl. You and Brady, go. It's just clean up now," Antonio says.

He's exhausted and half covered in gore. They had to resort to blades to take down the walkers, with no one wanting to risk shooting another Homesteader. There's no way in hell he's going into the infirmary like this, or that they'd allow it.

But he nods anyway and grabs his radio. "Amy, where's Denova?" He can do that much for his partner.

"Helping in the infirmary now. Jim got shot and she and one of the kids transported him."

"Me and Brady are on our way there. Gonna clean up on the way. Tell the girls I'll come see them first, but they gotta stay with you."

She acknowledges it and he and Brady trudge toward the main house. The garage wreckage burned at some point, but it didn't access the house. He teased Merle, just a bit, about being paranoid with the sprinkler system, but now he's damned grateful. Digging the bunker out from under a burned out house would make this day more of a hell than it already is.

He shoves open the exterior door to Merle's fancy bathroom after kicking his bloody boots off on the deck and watching Brady follow suit. "Hit the shower. I'll grab something of Merle's for both of us."

Merle's clothes will probably swallow them both, but it's better than detouring to their own homes, which are further away from their destination.

Brady's shower shows both his time in basic training and his urgent need to get to his wife. The man's already wrapping a towel around his waist when Daryl gets back. Daryl chucks the pile of clothes on one of the sinks and strips down himself.

By the time he's done with his equally short shower, Brady's gone, as are the ratty sneakers Merle keeps near the bathroom door. His skin is more damp than dry as he shoves himself into the borrowed jeans and T-shirt. Replacement shoes have to come from the closet, and at least the shoe size is close enough.

He grabs his belt, holster, and gun from his gear and straps everything back on. He looks at the gory knife and leaves it there. He needs more ammo anyway, and Merle's bound to have another knife in the gun safe.

He has to cross the kitchen to get to the basement stairs to keep his promise to the girls, but the sight of bottles and sippy cups in the drain rack makes him pause. He looks at the clock above the stove and shudders. Has it really been only three and a half hours since word came that Homestead was under attack?

And three and a half hours means that Judy's probably starving.

His hands shake as he pilfers a bag of frozen breastmilk out of the fridge. He's not sure if it's Patricia's or Lori's, could be either, but it doesn't really matter. He leans on the kitchen sink as the hot water runs over the flimsy bag in his hands, barely feeling the burn as his entire body shakes.

He pushes his mind through the steps. Feed Judy. Hold the girls, Abby _and_ Anaya, because Scout and Shane are still out in the field. Find out where the hell Carl is. Then he can go to Lori and wait. This gripping terror he doesn't have time for. Not now.

Judy. Girls. Carl. Lori.

He just keeps that mantra on repeat.

~*~ CP ~*~

At this point, with more wounded coming in, Carol's taking blood from everyone possible. She can only pray they have no need for donors in the next six to eight weeks, because she isn't going to leave any stones unturned. She's got donors crammed in the area behind the nurse's station and here, in the room meant for staff to sleep or relax on duty.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" she asks, placing the cotton ball over the needle and applying pressure as she pulls the needle from Carl's arm and sticks medical tape over the cotton. Her nephew is pale, but looks alert and determined.

Tyreese brought the three children back with his team, deciding he wasn't leaving them alone and remote in the lakeside bunker when he was headed to Carol anyway. Her fellow council member's wound was thankfully a through and through that just needed stitches and antibiotics. He refused painkillers, limping around to help with incoming patients.

"I'm fine. Did you get enough?" Carl's already opening the bottle of Gatorade, remembering the instructions from before that he has to drink the whole thing before leaving the room.

"Yes, honey, you gave plenty. In fact, I'm going to take this right to Alex." It's a statement meant to comfort Carl, who wanted to donate blood for his mother, but isn't compatible.

Sophia is standing next to Carl, looking a little dejected, but she passes him a packet of trail mix she just tore open. She's been pressed into donor assistance, because her blood type is so damned rare none of the other Homesteaders will need it.

"Sophia? Keep an eye on everyone for me?"

Her daughter nods, squaring her shoulders and scanning the room, which has four other donors. Three are the most healthy elders from the nursing home, while the last is Jenny. One of the doctors declared the blood loss from the broken nose minimal, and that the teenager could donate if she wanted. All four are the precious, desperately needed O positive.

"Carol?" Carl's voice stops her at the door. "Mom's going to be okay, isn't she?"

She owes him an honest answer. "Hershel and Dr. Edwards are doing everything they possibly can, Carl, and your mother is one of the strongest women I know. But I won't lie to you. It's as dangerous as what happened to your dad."

Maybe even more dangerous, because when Carol took the last pint of blood into the makeshift operation room, Hershel updated her that they've removed half of Lori's liver and her gallbladder. Carol's not entirely sure how to compare the two situations medically.

He takes a deep breath and shudders, but nods. "Thank you."

Torn between work and comforting the boy, she's saved from the decision as Abuelita pushes herself upright, dragging her chair closer and reaching out with her free arm to pull the boy to her.

Carol's glad Logan's in the community center with the other children brought up from the bunker. It's bad enough for Carl and Sophia to see her so rattled. She takes a deep breath of her own, closing her eyes for a brief, precious second, and then gets back to work.

~*~ CD ~*~

Cricket rips off her glove and throws it to the floor, reaching out to close Percy's eyes. She's as gentle as she can be with the man as she lifts his head and uses the same scalpel that failed to save his life to make sure he doesn't turn.

She sways a little with exhaustion, and her back aches like it never has before. She and Lilly battled for an hour to keep Percy alive, using poor little Audrey as a supply runner.

The once pristine and never really used ultrasound room is spattered with blood. They never use the actual room, although they stocked it after raiding one of the really good ultrasound rooms on a raid down at Emory. All their ultrasound needs have been met by the smaller portable unit on the hospital ward so far.

But the damage from the gunshot was too much, splintering the old man's ribs and shredding his left lung. He could have lived with one, but his body just didn't have the reserves to survive the trauma.

"You need to take a rest, Cricket," Lilly says. "Get something to drink and something to eat. I don't care who the next patient through the door is."

She opens her eyes to see the nurse is carefully draping one of the paper 'blankets' from the room's supply closet over Percy's body.

She sheds the other glove and looks at her bloody clothes. There hadn't been time to put on full protective gear. Hell, Audrey tied on their surgical masks even as they worked.

"Alright. I'll change in the staff room and see what's in the kitchenette."

"Fifteen minutes, no less. If I see you working with a patient before that, I'll tie you to a bed and shove an IV in your arm to hydrate you."

Cricket nods and heads for the hall, shaking the stiffness out of her limbs. She's pretty damned sure her sister-in-law means every last word.

~*~ Christopher ~*~

All the way home, the ride slower than he wanted, Christopher knew they were driving into something out of his nightmares. Those have been persistent for the past year, rotating usually between having to put a hunting knife in his sister-turned-walker's temple (or worse, his ten-year-old nephew's) and everything the people of Terminus endured.

Sometimes, for shits and giggles, his nightmares pitch him a curve ball, like remembering Scout scream, voice gone as they debrided the burns, or they make up something entirely, like Audrey or Tim as a walker.

They've never thrown this one at him, not really. Two of the Vatos unload Daniel out of the back of the Humvee as if he were made of spun glass, supporting him on the stretcher. They follow him inside, where the calm, orderly infirmary is a cacophony of sounds, smells, and visuals that make him remember Saturday nights on emergency room duty in Atlanta.

It's why he quit to go to pediatrics. But that's irrelevant today, because they don't need the pediatric nurse, and they don't need the supply run medic. They need the trauma nurse he tried to leave behind, just like they did after Terminus.

He helps them shift Daniel as slowly and easily as possible into one of the few empty beds. He hooks the IV bag to the hook on the pole, wondering who thought to drag the computerized IVs out from the store room. It's a blessing, because he can now hook Daniel up to a steady dosage to keep him sedated instead of careful injections at timed intervals.

"Stay with him while I change and get meds and more saline," he cautions. Aarón nods, as does the younger man with him.

He's toed off his boots and shed his bloody vest and shirt before he even realizes the staff room is occupied. It's Sophia's giggle that tells him he's not alone, and that tugging off a shirt as he walks is more than a bit careless.

"Oh, don't mind us, Kit." That's Cricket, slumped on the bunk and drinking a bottle of Ensure through a straw. She's in one of the sets of spare scrubs that are why he came in here and looks as exhausted as he feels.

He looks around the room, noticing three of the four seated residents have their arms taped like they've donated blood, with a fourth still actively hooked up and donating. Sophia's hovering near them, but politely turns to face the wall when he motions at her. He doesn't mind stripping to his boxer briefs in front of the elderly, Carl, or Cricket, but he draws the line at the thirteen-year-old girl.

"It's that bad?" he asks. If they're taking blood donations from the teens and elderly, maybe it is. Then again, most of their usual donors are probably in the field still.

He all but hops into the scrub pants, turning on the water at the little sink and scrubbing less than gently at his hands after splashing his face.

"Yeah. They've blown through six pints with Lori and she's still in surgery. Dale took two, and we've had two amputations that took even more." There's something off in Cricket's voice, even as she alerts Sophia she can turn around.

He doesn't stop his scrubbing. Even with gloves on, blood always gets everywhere else it can. "I've got a patient but he's stable as soon as I set his IV drip to keep him sedated. Where do you want me?"

Cricket looks at her watch. "Have Carl give you his chair. You're A neg, right?"

"Yeah." He dries his hands and pulls on a scrub shirt. "Let me do the meds first and I'll be right back. Finish that damned drink."

He makes the med delivery in record time, and asks the two Vatos their blood type while he's there. Neither of them know, and it's a long shot anyway. They don't really have time to test the two men's blood for the other potential issues, and they haven't had the health workups yet that all Homesteaders receive.

Cricket's on her feet and holding a packet from the box sitting on the counter. She shoves a bottle of water at him. "Not the only one who probably needs to hydrate."

He knows she's right, because he emptied the water bladder in his CamelBak by the time they arrived and still doesn't need to pee. He empties the bottle even as she preps him for the donation.

He doesn't like the slow way she's moving, one hand going to her back as she grimaces. The base instinct that served him well for years in the emergency room is rousing an alert. But he doesn't want to scare her, so he hedges as he looks at his watch.

"Chrissy?"

She looks up from where she's knelt to guide the needle. "Yeah?"

"Who died?" He knows she's right when she blinks away tears.

"Percy."

"I'm sorry." Sophia takes the empty water bottle when he waves it at her and he reaches out to pull Cricket in for a tight hug after she lays the tape on his arm to hold the needle and tubing in place.

They're both needed, probably their skills even more than the blood he's giving right now, but he keeps her on his lap with his free arm around her while she cries. It's not the downtime she needs, but it gives him the chance to lay his hand against the side of her belly.

He counts the baby's movements, feeling relieved with each strong little flutter and thump that protests the 'intrusion' into the tiny girl's territory.

Carol enters the room, looking alarmed at first. She's trained enough as a midwife to recognize the stealthy checkup he's doing. He gives her what he hopes is a reassuring smile and motions for her stethoscope.

She passes it over and he finds the baby's heartbeat. It's strong and steady, so he removes the earpieces and tucks them in Cricket's ears, letting her soothe to the sound.

Sophia pulls her mother aside to explain, looking worriedly at Carol's own rounded belly. Carol reaches for the stethoscope Cricket left behind and does her own check, passing the earpieces to her daughter.

But he feels what he's looking for just as Carol tilts her head in question at him again. Nine minutes since Cricket hooked him up to donate blood and clutched at her back. The rigid rippling movement isn't a typical contraction, but he's taking no chances.

"Carol, I need a bed, an IV, and a dose of salbutamol."

Despite the fleeting expression that tells him Carol feels the same horror he does, she's out of the room so fast she leaves the donated pint she just handled in the donor's lap.

Cricket stiffens at his words, moving back enough to stare at him and not liking the dawning knowledge any more than he does.

"Don't move, dammit," he orders her, keeping his free arm tightly against her. "Sophia, can you grab me the medical tape and the cotton balls?"

The girl scrambles for them and without being asked, presses the little wad of fluff over the needle as he withdraws it. She rips off the tape and finishes the job, taking the donated blood carefully and capping the needle.

He's headed for the hospital ward with Cricket in his arms when he hears the girl firmly order, "Carl, chase him with that Gatorade and make sure he drinks it."

"Kit?"

"We'll stop it, Chrissy. We'll stop it."

He prays he's telling the truth.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

Jesus listens to Emmett as he speaks on the radio, hoping the signal stays steady. There's a reason they usually stop to broadcast, to reduce chances of interference. Or in this case, breaking the damned antenna that Harlan is literally holding outside the window of the Humvee while Jesus speeds along.

Behind him, there are two more Humvees. Both the Kingdom and Solomon's Island sent medical staff and supplies.

They left Hilltop within an hour of the first alert that Homestead had been attacked. Jesus and the two Carson doctors fully intended to go alone, but they barely had the Humvee loaded when the others rolled up to Hilltop's gates.

It's a twenty hour non-stop trip at speeds deemed best for today's world of roaming walkers and loose livestock. It was twelve at general highway speeds before the world ended, by the complicated route they have cleared to miss the big hot spots. They'll have to stop to refuel at least once, emptying the supplies Jesus is pulling in the portable tank he took from the same military depot he got the Humvee.

He intends they make it in eleven.


	96. Aftermath, Part 2

**June 30, 2011**

~*~ Beth ~*~

"Here. Let's make him as comfortable as we can."

Beth looks up at Maggie's voice from where she's carefully sponging all the blood off Augustus that she can around the bandages. He hasn't roused from the sedative, but he's still alive and that's half the battle with a dog injured this badly.

Noah is in the doorway of the dental office, a big comforter in his arms. He's got a split lip and a bandage taped on his forehead, but seems otherwise okay. "Maggie sent me to get a blanket when I helped Tyreese bring in our wounded."

"Put the blanket on the other side of the dental chair where it's clean," Maggie directs and Noah settles the fluffy thing there.

"Who all got hurt?" In this tiny room, trying to fix all that's wrong with the brave, brave dog, Beth's brain barely registered the activity up and down the main corridor other than to note it was happening.

"Tyreese, Nichelle, and Keenan. None serious, but enough that Scout sent them here to be patched up." His expression clouds. "One of the people Shane brought in from Villa Rica died that I know of, but they were still searching the property, and the teams got spread out chasing the walkers."

Beth isn't as familiar with their newer residents from that survivor group, since none of them aligned with her work duties. There's only one teenager among them. "Was it Shawn's aunt?"

Noah shakes his head. "No, one of the younger men. He and his dad work on the building crew. His mom's on the watch crew."

"That's Harry," Maggie says softly. She moves away to let Noah kneel to help Beth move Augustus. "He's younger than I am."

That makes Beth's heart ache, because it could have so easily been Maggie out there, if she weren't pregnant. And Glenn is out there, along with so many of their loved ones. She's selfishly glad that her father's medical skills led him away from the fighting.

Maggie sighs softly. "I'm going to go wash up and see where Carol needs me." She's gone without waiting for acknowledgement.

"Will he make it?" Noah asks, stroking his fingers through the big dog's multi-colored fur.

"I don't know. I fixed everything I could. It's up to him now."

"He's the first dog I saw after everything, you know. He was with the teams that rescued me and my dad."

"Yeah. He was one of the dogs with Scout's people when they came to our old farm." Beth eyes the door, knowing she needs to clean up and go help with the wounded people too. "Can you stay here with him? I don't want him to wake up alone. He saved people today."

Noah nods. "I'm not supposed to go back out. Concussion protocols."

Beth peers at him. "What happened? Did you get shot?" It's not really enough bandage for that, she supposes.

"Nah. Asshole punched me when I was changing magazines, and I hit my head when I went down."

"What happened to him?"

"Alaina shot him in the ass."

Beth can't help laughing. Christopher's mother isn't the most likable person, such a contrast to her son, but damn, that's a little poetic. "I hope he's getting to suffer then."

"Yeah. We brought back prisoners too, the two wounded ones we found before Scout sent us. He's out there strapped to a bed. Just look for the guy with the bandages on his ass."

"I'll do that. Get me if Augie wakes or seems to be getting sicker, okay?"

She pushes to her feet with one last pat to the dog's soft scruff. Time to see who else she can help.

~*~ DD ~*~

Daryl hands Judy over to Abby a little reluctantly. He's tempted to take her with him, but the infirmary's not the place for an infant, not just yet. He pulls all three girls in close for one last hug.

"Daddy? When do we get to go to the infirmary too?" Abby asks. "Like Carl?"

He got that much of an update, that his stepson is safe and sound and under Carol's oversight for now.

"I'll come get you when your Mama's out of surgery, but until then, I need y'all to keep helping Isabelle and Al with the other kids."

With so many children still in the bunker, they could be released to the care of the women who have the others in the community center now, but he just feels safer with them here.

He's already sent Isabelle upstairs to fetch more milk for the babies, since he didn't even consider that Matty might be down here and without his mama too. Christian's at least old enough to snack with the older kids from the food stores in the bunker.

The radio to the outside is less needed now, so Glynnis leaves her chair to snag both of the older girls close. "Girls, I promise both of you that I'll take you there as soon as they clear the infirmary for visitors. But let's let Daryl go for now, so they have more help, okay?"

Abby accepts it, used to trusting her grandmother. Anaya frowns, but gives a little nod, moving away to scoop Christian up and hug him tightly.

He hates to leave them, but he does anyway, feeling that shaky tension from before return. The girls and Carl are safe, and every step toward the infirmary makes the sense of dread increase.

There's never been this much activity in the infirmary, ever. Even the joyful chaos of Judith's birth, with all of Clan Dixon in and out of the place, didn't pack it this full.

He searches for Carol or Cricket in the chaos, but gets snagged by Maggie instead.

"Daryl." She's as serious as he's ever seen her, and Maggie is always full of light and laughter that Daryl's seen.

"Is she still in surgery?"

"Yeah. I was just in there, seeing if they needed help. Daddy sent me out here to give Carl an update but I haven't found him yet."

He resists the urge to snap at her to get to the point. His impatience is not her fault.

"Daddy says maybe another half hour. They're having to surgically repair two ribs, and then they're done."

"What else?" She's been in surgery too long for just a repair to the ribs, and that sounds too damned much like what Rick had done. He knows that was one of multiple surgeries.

"They had to remove her gallbladder and half her liver. It'll regenerate. It takes months, but it grows back."

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he recalls that fact, probably from helping Cricket study. He struggles to bring himself back from chasing that thought.

"Daryl?" Maggie sounds concerned.

"Anything else?"

Maggie nods. "She's lost a lot of blood, so Carol's going to need donations. You can do that while you wait on the surgery to finish."

He allows himself to be pushed toward a chair behind the nurses desk.

"Here, drink this."

He takes the bottle of water and drinks, because he can't do a damn thing else to help his wife right now except sit in this chair and wait for someone to take his blood.

There's a commotion, several people rushing in with someone on a backboard he can barely see as they pass by and back out of sight.

He ignores it, closes his eyes, and drinks.

"Pookie?"

There's a soft, tender touch on one cheek and he opens his eyes to see Carol's soft blue eyes. Her expression is concerned.

"Maggie said you needed blood."

He's aware of others in the area that's supposed to be the nurse's area now that the gentle contact with Carol anchors him back to where he was disconnecting.

"Yes, we do." But she doesn't move away right away, leaning in to place the briefest of kisses on his forehead. "She'll pull through, Daryl."

He nods, trying to accept the reassurance. Carol knows more about medicine than he does. He watches dully as she taps his arm, watching the blood flow down into the waiting bag.

"What happened? Do you know?"

She shakes her head. "Not the details. Just that several people were pinned down near the barn."

"Said on the radio that Eugene went after the sniper. He okay?"

"Yeah. He's been helping in the infirmary. Apparently makes a good surgical assistant for the minor ones we've run out of doctors and nurses for."

That doesn't really surprise Daryl at all.

Carol takes the now-empty water bottle and replaces it with a full one of Gatorade. "Sophia will bring you something to eat too. Once you're out of this chair, I'll set you up over in radiology so you're out of the hubbub here and closer to where she is."

That startles him. "She's not in the operating room?"

"We already had a surgery going when she was brought in, so I set up the empty room at the end of the radiology unit. We're going to make it her hospital room when she's done rather than move her."

He likes the idea of that, her not being moved any more than necessary.

"Where's Carl?"

"He's keeping busy in here, but I'll send him to you." She cups his face again and he blinks away tears. "Remember the first time we really talked at the quarry, when you told me how low Scout's odds were?"

"Yeah."

"Lori's are better. She's strong and healthy and she's got a lot to fight for."

She's moving away, someone calling her, and he mourns the loss of her warm touch.

~*~ Scout ~*~

The irony of the horse farm is that once they've secured the gate, it's not hard to recheck it. The invaders destroyed two of the major structures - the house and the primary barn. There's a smaller barn further away from those two piles of smoldering rubble, but it's intact. For whatever reason, the animals in their pastures were largely ignored.

But a flare up of fire from the two buildings is a risk no one wants to take, so they're hosing everything potentially flammable down.

It lets her try to forget that she's sent another team onward, that one with two grieving parents and two guardians transporting the body of a kid barely in his twenties that didn't deserve to die today.

"Wait. I hear something." It's Big Tiny who moves forward, wading into the edge of rubble. There weren't supposed to be any animals inside the barn, because the horses were turned out to pasture this morning and are all unharmed.

It isn't until the big man starts cupping tiny furry bodies into his shirt tail turned carrier that she realizes he's rescuing kittens. She hopes they all survive, because they need that sort of reminder.

He comes back out and shows her the little dirty and drenched creatures. "The mama cat, she's gone. Some of the equipment crushed her."

She reaches in to rub a finger along one pitiful little head. The kitten mewls, turning to the touch. "Go see if you can get them clean and warm til we finish here."

There's a big hand cupping the back of her neck and she leans into the brief comfort before Jamie moves away. "Miracles happen even among the horrors, don't they?" he says softly. "Hopefully it's a sign."

He knows her mind is here only by the decade of Marine training. There's no word of Lori's status. She reminds herself that no news is good news, as surely if the worst happens, Amy would summon her.

She watches as the little pumper truck finishes emptying its tank and returns to the farm pond to refill and sighs.

"Scout."

"Yeah?"

"Get your ass up to the infirmary."

The tone and the order startles her, but when she looks at Jamie, he gives her one of the lopsided smiles she's always liked about him.

"This is just cleanup. We've got the gate blocked off securely and once they've dumped another tank out, this is good too. No need for you to watch it happen. Take Tiny and those kittens and go get some real news about Lori."

She doesn't argue. He's right, and that's why they've always worked well together. He's willing to tell her when she's being stubbornly stupid about duty versus her family.

"When you bring your people up, just keep the expansion area blocked off from here. I doubt any walkers got over there, but it can wait until tomorrow for us to make sure it's clear. I'll take Carlos, Tanaka, and the prisoners."

He nods and she finally lets herself think ahead.

"Hey, Tiny. Let's get those babies taken home."

~*~ DD ~*~

"Daryl?"

He's still in the chair where Carol left him, although he's been joined by Carl. The boy is huddled against Daryl's knees, keeping in contact with the only parental figure present right now. Whatever kept him going has just run out of juice, and Daryl understands.

Since no one told him to move once Beth fluttered by and took the blood, he's stayed put, so Carol doesn't have to search for him.

"Honey?" He opens his eyes and blinks a little.

Unlike him, she's still in full gear, although she looks a lot less gory than he did earlier. The spatter on her clothing looks more human than walker. But most importantly, she doesn't look hurt.

"You okay?" She's obviously looking him over for any signs of injury.

"Just waiting. Gave blood." He motions at his arm.

"Huh. I'll see if they still need blood."

"Why were you giving Glenn a piggyback ride?" Carl asks.

"He got shot in the foot. He'll be okay, but it was the fastest way to carry him here."

That alarms Daryl. "What about the rest of your team?"

"Tim's fine. Tara's got a through and through in her leg. I'm pretty sure it broke the bone too, the little one that I can't remember right now." Honey motions toward the hospital ward that Daryl's not even tried to make head nor tails of. "She's over there by Cricket's bed."

He didn't think he could scare himself anymore shitless, but apparently it's possible. "Why is Cricket in a bed?"

He stands, putting a hand out so he doesn't literally tumble Carl.

"She's having contractions. Christopher and Mama put her in a bed and made her stay put."

He can't even see Lori right now, but he can at least check on Cricket. Spotting her, he dodges around Honey.

"Hey, Tihu." Cricket looks tired and distracted, not even looking up from where she's watching the monitor she's hooked up to. Tara's got the visitor's chair crammed as close to the bed as possible, her splinted leg angled out. Glenn's not even bothering with a chair, using the back of Tara's as a support.

He reaches out to pull the paper printout to look it over, remembering from Lori's early labor. The spikes are irregular, at least. The regular ones are when it gets really dangerous, he knows.

He hasn't said anything, and she finally looks up to smile wanly. "She's just being excitable so I'll get some rest."

He hopes that's all it is.

Movement further down the ward catches his eye, probably because there are few people Jazz's size around. But he doesn't recognize the person Jazz has sitting in a chair between two occupied beds closest to the bathroom.

His brain claws up the memory of the orders to take prisoners and the sudden, overwhelming sense of rage nearly bowls him over. Not only are the invaders still breathing, but they're in the same room with his family.

He crosses the ward without even thinking, until he collides hard with Jazz's outstretched arm. His nephew grabs him, holding him immobile.

"Goddammit, Jasper Benjamin, let me go." He struggles to get to his target, not really caring which one, but it's futile. It's easy to see Jazz as the child he once was, despite his size, because he's such a gentle man.

But right now? Daryl thinks the only way he's moving Jazz is to hurt him.

"Don't make me hurt you, Tihu."

There's no softness in his nephew's voice, no more than there's give in his grip. When he struggles, the grip shifts finally and he thinks he's won free. Instead he's spun and Jazz spins him so that his back is to the teenager's chest. He's in the choke hold before he registers the law enforcement move, but Jazz takes it further and sweeps his legs.

Once they're down on the floor, he can't get free of Jazz any easier than he could Shane back at the quarry. Jazz adds to the chokehold move by wrapping his damned legs around Daryl's.

Jazz's voice is soft, almost crying. "Please don't make me hurt you."

The plaintive tone makes some of the rage recede. "They shouldn't be in here. You shouldn't help them."

"I don't want any more blood on my hands. Please, Tihu."

As much as that cools the rage, it's the other voice that throws cold water on it.

"Daryl, don't make me tase you."

He can't remember the last time his niece used his given name, but when he looks up, Honey's standing in the aisle between the two rows of beds. She's got her taser in her hand, and everything about her tone and stance tells him she's serious. He knows as long as she doesn't hit Jazz with the prongs, she can tase him without hurting her brother.

He forces himself to still, to stop the instinctive fight against being restrained. The last of the fight drains out of him to alarm.

"Why are you bleeding, Jazz?" he manages, trying to reach the boy's leg.

"Oh fuck."

He's literally hauled out of Jazz's hold and half-tossed down the aisle. He rolls to his knees to see Honey inspecting the blood seeping through the too-short scrubs Jazz is wearing.

"Somebody give me a damn pair of scissors!"

Patrick rushes forward, offering the scissors. "He's torn his stitches," the other teenager explains.

Daryl can only watch in helpless frustration and self-loathing as he watches Honey cut away the leg of the scrubs. The wound's been stitched closed, but the broken stitches reveal it for what it is: a six-inch-long graze from a bullet, the edges blackened with the heat of the projectile as it scored across skin.

"Here." It's the stranger Jazz was treating, holding an unopened suture kit out with a shaking hand.

Patrick takes the package as Daryl feels himself pulled to his feet. It takes him a minute to recognize Father Gabriel, since he can't tear his horrified gaze away from the sight of Patrick beginning to restitch Jazz's leg. The unknown woman continues to pass supplies from the instrument tray, while Honey is behind Jazz, wrapped around her brother as a life size support.

"Daryl." Father Gabriel tugs at his shoulder. "Maybe you need to go sit back down."

"I hurt him." Now, without the rage coursing through him, he sees what he missed because Jazz was in profile when he spotted him working down the aisle. The leg wound isn't the only injury his nephew carries. The right side of Jazz's face is patched together with steri strips and a piece of transparent film bandage.

The priest clears his throat. "Not intentionally, Mister Dixon. The blame for his injury lies with a man already gone to meet his maker."

"How?"

"He used his own body to cover your wife when the sniper attacked, since he was wearing body armor and she was already wounded."

Somewhere between the guilt and horror of where his temper has led, something even more frightening rears its head. "How many times was he hit, Father? Did you see his armor?"

Maybe it's his tone or maybe it's confusion, but Gabriel drops his hand as he answers. "Three on the armor."

Freed from even the nominal restraint the priest laid on him, Daryl's on his knees beside Jazz.

"Lift his shirt, Hannah. Now."

She responds to the order as if she didn't just have to threaten him.

Jazz's back is one massive bruise, with three distinct impact points among all the spreading purple.

"Jesus Christ, baby brother," Honey breathes. "Patrick, did y'all X-ray this?"

Patrick shakes his head as he finishes the last stitch and tapes gauze back in place. "We haven't X-rayed him or Eugene yet. They insisted it could wait."

"Eugene?"

The other man sighs and lifts his shirt, revealing similar bruising with just two impact points on his chest instead of his back.

Daryl clears his throat, feeling clear headed for the first time since he left the girls with Glynnis and Amy. "Patrick, you know how to use the X-ray, right?"

The teenager nods, already getting to his feet and reaching out to offer Jazz a hand.

"Jasper."

He's still on the floor, while Jazz is standing, but he gets his nephew's attention.

"I'm sorry."

He gets a quick jerk of a nod before Jazz follows Patrick and Eugene.

Before he can really loathe himself, Honey wraps a hand around his bicep. "You know how to do stitches," she suggests, looking up at the scared young woman in the visitor's chair between the two more strangers, both unconscious.

He doesn't like helping the people who attacked his home and his family, but he needs to honor Jazz's intent here until he finds out why.

He reaches for the rolling stool Jazz kicked away when he stood. The woman flinches, but pulls away the bandage and offers him her arm, which shows clear signs of a big dog's tearing teeth.

When Lori gets better, she's going to kick his ass, and that's if Jazz forgives him first.

If Carol leaves anything for his wife after she hears about this.

He'll deserve every bit of it.

~*~ SW ~*~

Homestead's never needed an actual jail before now. The few brawls, including Abraham's attack on Eugene, all were resolved fairly quickly with little punishment needed other than working the culprits' asses off until they were too tired for trouble.

That means he and Rick needed to improvise. The crazy bastard that caused all this is bandaged and restrained in a pile of hay in one of the stalls in the barn. Hopefully the horses won't mind a night out at pasture.

That leaves three prisoners who surrendered to the inevitable in the battle near the sports field, plus the teenager Michonne caught fleeing. There's even enough stalls for them to each get their very own spot to sit in zip ties until the council decides to act on whatever information has Carol ordering prisoners taken.

At this point, he's pretty sure it's not for information, but he figures that'll happen too.

He orders Amanda Shepherd and Leslie Bello to stand guard. He's spent enough time not having an update on Lori or seeing his daughters.

"Rick." His partner turns from where he's staring in the stall holding the monster. "You go ahead to the infirmary. Find Carl and tell them I'm on my way."

"Maybe we should leave more than two guards."

"He's not the boogeyman. I don't think he can go anywhere."

Rick sighs. "Yeah. Hell, he can't even roll over, the way you have him restrained."

"Exactly. Either he'll live and face our people for what he's done, or he'll die in a pile of straw next to a pile of horseshit. I'm happy with either outcome."

With one last look at the wounded man, Rick heads for the door ahead of Shane.

He pauses at Amanda's side, even as Rick walks onward. Making sure his voice carries, he tells her, "Any of those stall doors open, you put them down like a rabid dog, Officer Shepherd."

There's nothing good for their prisoners in the toothy grin she gives him. "Yes, sir."

It's time to go find his daughters.


	97. Aftermath, Part 3

**June 30, 2011**

~*~ MD ~*~

After they help ease Sam from the backboard to the operating table, Merle leaves Michonne in charge of Ana for the time being. His friend's unflappable nature will help during what is likely to be a long surgery if Sam's battered body can tolerate it. And if the worst happens? Ana will need someone there.

Caleb's scrubbing in, with Christopher and Lilly both moving to assist him and Denise. He sidesteps nearly being run over with the portable X-ray machine, not even catching who is pushing it. He makes a pitstop to clean up just a little in one of the tiny bathrooms, watching the blood fade from his hands and forearms down the drain.

He spots Carol exiting the staff room to head back into the ward. She gives him a quick lookover, an expression of relief appearing on her tired features. He doesn't want to transfer anything off his BDUs onto her scrubs, so he's careful when he cups her face to give her a gentle kiss.

"When was the last time you took a break?" he asks. She looks like there's been a full day between now and their four a.m. wakeup.

Carol looks a bit guilty. "I've been trying to keep everything organized."

He notes the bag of blood she's holding. "Do you need me to donate?"

She shakes her head. "Your last donation was still in the fridge. You can't yet."

"Shouldn't, but I can if it comes to it. Daryl make it down here?"

"He's donating so I can keep him underfoot until Lori's surgery is done. Hershel and Edwards are cautiously optimistic right now."

"Good. I'm going to go make sure cleanup is on track. Jamie's going to bring the kids from the Eldridge shelter up to the community center when they finish up."

She nods. "I'll take a break and get something to eat."

He brushes another kiss across her lips, one hand against her belly before heading back outside.

He can hear the low whir of the reefer van that's been moved down near the sports field. It's acting as a temporary morgue for their own people.

While walkers are being hauled to one big semi trailer they'll take to one of the landfills, the bodies of the Woodbury invaders are being loaded on another. Whether they'll join the walkers in their landfill grave, he hasn't decided yet.

He ignores those units for now, even as the able-bodied haul loads in smaller vehicles to load the semis. Instead, seeing G walking slowly toward the reefer, he crosses to intercept.

"Who did we lose?" The stress of the day can't be good for the elderly at all.

The younger man sighs softly. "Mr. Salcedo within the first hour. He was already so near the end his body didn't handle the stress of being moved."

The woman cradled in G's arms is turned so all Merle can see is her long white hair. Merle steps ahead to raise the back door.

G lays her down gently next to Mr. Salcedo, tucking the blanket around her after crossing her hands on her chest. "Octavia Rogers. She had a heart attack. Used the AED, but she was just gone."

Merle knows Carol probably knows everything about the elderly woman, but he doesn't. "How old was she?"

"Seventy-nine."

There are five bodies in the chilled space. They aren't subjecting any of their people to what the Georgia heat will do to their remains. He's about to latch the door when G stops him with a hand to his elbow.

He follows the other man's line of sight. The group approaching is all ladies from Grady, those who fought today like the Amazons they are now. Four of them carry another using an emergency blanket as a stretcher. His heart aches for them.

And while he doesn't know all the elderly by sight, he knows the girl they carry. Silvia's barely out of her teens, and regularly babysits Christian during the overlap of his mothers' duty shifts. He and G ease her into the truck, and he takes care to arrange her dark hair to cover the wound that took her life.

"Where are we needed most?" Maria asks. Her expression is grim, just like the others.

He looks out over the workers and back to them. "Unless you just need to keep busy out here, they probably need help in the community center with the kids more than we need cleanup crew. G, what about your people?"

"We could use some help getting them settled back in."

Maria looks over her little group of ten. "Sally and Rebecca, with me to the center. The rest of you help G."

They all disperse and Merle checks the fuel gauge on the reefer unit. He's praying there are no more bodies to add.

~*~ Axel ~*~

After Amy gives the all-clear, Axel loads the children back into the Chevy. He's kept them in the root cellar until he's assured he doesn't have to guard the kids from seeing anything they shouldn't.

All of them have been traumatized enough, long before today.

But he can't really take Jada straight to the community center. The girl needs a bath and change of clothes. He parks the Chevy in front of the building Jada's group is still staying in with Denise.

Leaving the kids in the truck, he clears both the dorm and the bathroom below before returning.

"Jeff? Can you go find her a change of clothes?"

The teen nods and dashes up the stairs. Axel ducks to get on eye level with the little girl. "Jada, the girls will go with you so you can shower."

Jim's girls both nod solemnly. The other girl, whose name he isn't sure of, reaches out and squeezes Jada's shoulder. Jada leans forward and hugs him tightly. Despite the surprise affection, he returns the hug.

They all scramble down and into the washroom, holding hands in a daisy chain of girls.

Ron watches them go, his own gaze anxiously turned to the community center.

"If you want to go look for your mother and brother, it's safe enough," Axel tells him as Jeff comes back down the stairs and passes a drawstring bag to one of the girls in the washroom. He understands. This close to Angela, he's got the jitters himself.

The older teenager shakes his head. "Not without the girls."

If he's that intent on seeing his duty through, Axel isn't going to argue. He's got to admire the kid's determination.

If he had that much backbone at fourteen, maybe he wouldn't have spent half his adult life behind bars.

~*~ RG ~*~

Rick finds his son with Daryl, standing in a room meant to be the control room if the largest room in this section of the infirmary was actually an MRI room. Instead, a few chairs have been pushed into it to make a sort of waiting room.

Daryl and Carl are both watching as the team inside carefully transfers Lori and all the equipment she needs into the hospital bed. They're leaning together, Daryl's arm tightly around Carl's shoulders.

"She's not on the ventilator. That's good, right?" he asks, startling them both.

Carl pulls away from the window to throw his arms around Rick. His embrace has more strength behind it than he really expects from a thirteen-year-old.

"Yeah. Edwards stopped through on his way to help with the other big surgery. Said breathing on her own doubled her chances." Daryl is breathing shallowly, not turning from the observation window.

Rick understands why Daryl's so rattled. Even the C-section with Carl, Lori was awake and part of the action around her. Seeing her frail and bandaged on the hospital bed is beyond wrong.

Glancing to the other side of the room, there's plenty of evidence of the fight to save her life. Bloody equipment, the silent respirator, and discarded supplies are being tidied away by Maggie.

"Shane went to find the girls."

"Told Glynnis I would radio in when things were ready."

"Yeah, they don't need to see this."

Rick watches as Maggie doesn't separate out the cloth from the disposables in anything she gathers. It all goes into the same big trash bag.

"I gave blood, Dad. They couldn't give it to Mom, but Carol says it spares the ones that do match for Mom and anyone like her."

"She's right." He smooths Carl's hair, smiling at him despite his own unease.

"Daryl, did Edwards say how much blood they gave her?" He read his own records, after they made the King County trip. The earliest surgery was the worst one, with him needing six units of blood.

"Eight."

Jesus Christ. He's wrapping his mind around that when Hershel comes out of the room.

The man looks exhausted, but he manages a smile. "She's stable. There's still risk, because none of us are surgeons experienced in gunshot wounds. At least not of the human variety, and not of this level of injury."

"How long does it take for the liver to grow back?" Daryl asks. He hasn't turned away from the window.

"About two months for most of it. She'll probably be mostly recovered by then. We repaired two ribs, so they'll heal faster."

"And the blood loss?" Rick remembers a lot of confusing language from his records about complications with that.

"She's actually a little better off than you were when you were injured, Rick. We treated her primarily with fresh whole blood, other than the first two units that were stored, but still whole blood."

"And that's better?" Daryl asks, turning to look at Hershel at last.

"There are studies that indicate it, yes, mostly military. The components used in most trauma surgeries are anemic by nature and contain fewer platelets and clotting factors, among other issues. We'll be monitoring her closely for the next few days."

"How long will she be sedated?"

"She should be waking any time now, based just on the anesthetic we gave. She won't be aware for the first five or ten minutes of waking up, but we're going to let you and Carl go in now."

"What about Abby?"

"Let's give it a little bit until we've established Lori's awareness level."

"Shane and I can explain to her," Rick offers. "And she's got the window here, better than a lot of hospital rooms."

Carl slips forward when Daryl looks distressed still. "Shane will know how to explain it, Daryl. He helped me, when Dad was hurt."

Daryl takes a deep breath and nods. He doesn't look back at Rick, unlike Carl, who gives him a wavering smile. They follow Hershel.

Rick steps forward to Daryl's spot at the window. There are too many tubes and wires and monitors. He feels more helpless than he ever has in his life.

Despite Hershel's reassurance, he can't help but remember his own injury and how badly that went sideways. This is the reality that he's pushed away since the first report of her being shot. Lori could die, and all of their lives will never recover from that.

~*~ EF ~*~

Eugene isn't surprised to find Honey in the dental office checking on Augustus. She's on the floor, her dog's head in her lap.

"How's he doing?"

"Drowsy."

He eases himself to the floor, feeling the bruised parts of his chest ache with the position shift.

As soon as he's sitting next to Honey, the dog's eyes focus on him. He's struck by the pure glass blue color, like always. He reaches out to gently stroke Augie's head.

"He was protecting me."

She smiles just a little. "Did he at least get teeth in the bastard?"

"Yeah. Took his arm down to the bone."

"And you still went and got shot."

He's probably imagining it, but Augustus looks a little judgemental about that. Honey's teasing, though.

"I had to buy Beth time, and she wasn't wearing body armor."

She draws him into a sweet kiss, making it linger until they have to breathe. She rests her forehead against his, running her fingers through the longer hair at his neck.

"He could have aimed away from the armor." There's a hitch in her voice.

"I know. It was a gamble I had to make though." Aside from the fact that he could never face any of his new family if he stood by while Beth was shot, he's never going to be the coward he once was ever again.

"How's your chest?"

"Sore. No broken ribs. Damned glad I was in one of the military vests." He takes one of her hands and places it over the troublesome spot. "I'll heal."

He's come out of the day with such a light injury compared to some. Honey's not injured at all, and Augustus will recover. He's going to be grateful for those small favors when so many others are struggling.

"I should go help."

"Give it just a little bit," he asks. In here, it's a small bubble of calm that she needs.

She deserves it just a fraction longer. He knows he's right when she adjusts to bury her face against his shoulder.

~*~ DD ~*~

Daryl watches as Lori rolls her head back and forth a bit, blinking her eyes open slowly. He and Carl are on one side of the bed, away from the IV and other paraphernalia needed.

Carol's hovering, noting readings in Lori's chart, while Hershel's standing at the foot of the bed, observing.

"Daryl?" It's slurred and barely recognizable as his name, but she's trying.

"I'm here. So's Carl. And Carol's your nurse." The boy squeezes her hand, looking hopeful as she manages to keep her eyes open finally.

She blinks more rapidly, and he thinks she's trying to look around.

"Everyone's okay, Lori. Hershel's just keeping visitors to a dull roar right now. How are you feeling?"

"Cold. Tired."

"That's a side effect of blood loss," Hershel explains. "We'll be monitoring you carefully, but it should improve."

"One a scale of one to ten, where's your pain?" Carol asks.

"Six? Feels like after my C-section, after the spinal wore off and I could feel my legs again."

Hershel stirs then. "That's good. We were unable to do an epidural, but we've done something similar via the wound itself. You're receiving a local anesthetic directly into the wound."

Carol catches her hand as Lori seems to unconsciously reach to examine her abdomen. She presses a control from the IV in Lori's hand.

"Morphine pump," she explains, assisting Lori with activating a dose.

"The wound catheter allows us to reduce the morphine use, since many pain meds are processed through the liver. And it also allows you to be mobile faster, since you can move with it still in place."

"Like they do with chemo?" Lori asks.

"Very close. Instead of an IV or a chest port, your port is in the abdomen."

"What about feeding Judith?"

There's something Daryl hasn't even begun to consider, and when Lori shifts uneasily, he moves away from Carl to put a hand on her shoulder and squeeze lightly. She reaches up with her free hand to cover his, most of her attention on Hershel.

"We verified with Dr. Carson that there shouldn't be any conflict with breastfeeding and either pain control method or the antibiotics in your IV. We weren't really considering that as an issue during surgical sedation, but if you're concerned about that, you can pump and discard a feeding or two."

Daryl flexes his hand on her shoulder, making her look up. "I fed her from the bags in the freezer. You don't have to hurt so she doesn't go hungry." Hell, he's pretty sure Patricia, Miranda, and Ellen would contribute even if Lori's frozen milk ran out.

Reassured, Lori looks back to Hershel and asks about the surgery itself.

He listens as Hershel carefully explains the surgery. Lori seems intent on his words. Daryl half-absorbs the information himself, such as drainage ports and hernia risk. He knows he needs the information, but he'll go over it with Carol again later.

What matters most is that with each passing moment, Lori's more alert, even if that means she's more aware of her pain. He can see Carl relax as comparisons to his father's injuries fade.

"Where are the girls?" Lori asks, once she's run out of questions for Hershel.

"In the observation room," Carl answers. "I heard Shane bring them in when Hershel was explaining the wound thing."

"Can I see them?"

Hershel nods, and Daryl's never been so glad of a lack of hospital restrictions as when their family comes into the room. Even Scout's with them.

Lori's overjoyed expression on seeing the girls shows it's even better medicine than anything else they can give her. It's going to be a long recovery, but she's going to make it.

Abby's taken over holding the hand Carl isn't, smiling brightly when Lori compliments her and Anaya for how they kept their heads today. She's holding Judy with his help to keep the baby away from her right side when she frowns suddenly.

"Lori? You okay?" Shane asks.

"Is Jazz okay? I just remembered… he was hurt. That's why I left cover." She frowns, digging through her surgery-fogged memory. "He was with me, wasn't he?"

Guilt surges through Daryl again, but Carl shocks everyone.

"He's okay, Mom. He even did a surgery right in the hospital ward, an amputation, because all the doctors were busy."

What in all hells happened around here today in the chaos?

~*~ LG ~*~

Once she's insisted she has to see for herself that Jazz is alright, it doesn't take long for him to be tracked down.

"He was back on the ward," Shane explains.

"I can still work. My ribs are fine," the teen protests, but it trails off as he looks at Lori. He looks so stricken she can help but let Daryl take Judith to free up one of her hands.

He obeys when she summons him close, leaning in as she reaches up to touch his face. The livid purple around the patched up wound below his eye reminds her of the spike of fear when he went down.

"Oh, sweetheart, why isn't this stitched up?"

Jazz looks toward Carol a little guiltily. "Because it needs surgery to secure the bone."

"Jasper. That's enough that a doctor should be overseeing it." Carol sounds somewhere between outrage and crying.

"It's not urgent," the teen replies matter-of-factly. One of my teammates didn't get his looked at for hours and was okay. The orbital bone isn't broken, just the zygomatic."

Lori watches, a little exasperated with her nephew, but if he's still arguing logically as he's pulled away to a joint exam by Carol and Hershel, he's probably right. She might not make the same assessment if it were Carl, or maybe not even any of the grown men in her family, but Jazz's got enough medical background to understand his limits.

She's still not entirely sure what happened after she was shot, other than a fleeting memory of Jazz trying to reassure her. But that initial fear, that he was seriously injured, is offset a little.

Pins and plates in bones are better than bullet wounds, right?

~*~ CP ~*~

Jazz wins the overall argument simply because he actually does have X-rays to prove his self-diagnosis. His ribs are clear despite the horrible bruising, and the zygomatic bone detached but not causing any problem currently other than the inability to fully open his mouth. The fact that there's a clear X-ray of his right leg makes her heart really lurch.

He simply patched himself up, although at least with Patrick's help, and found something to do that wasn't fighting. With Hershel's backing, she steers him back to the ward and takes blood and sends him for a urine sample. There's too much bruising around his right kidney to not be careful.

Once he's done, she considers parking him in a bed, much like Cricket. She reminds herself that if he's old enough to fight out there today, he's old enough to know his own limits.

He goes and checks on their collection of wounded prisoners, and that's another puzzle to figure out. Both why he's volunteering and what in the hell the council is going to do with them.

There are six injured. Four are in hospital beds, two in chairs between them, all in some method of restraints. There are eight unwounded prisoners in the barn now, plus their leader.

It's a problem for later, because their people who are stable are waiting treatment. She leaves Glenn to Maggie's tender mercies, because the former vet tech assures her Glenn's X-ray shows no broken bones. Fixing his foot is just a matter of cleaning and stitching.

She snags Tara's film, studying it for anything that demands Hershel's attention from where he's assessing one of the Terminus's women's gunshot wound.

"Is it even possible to have stitches and a cast?" Tara asks.

Crocket laughs. "They do that regularly for surgical repairs, but I've seen your wound, and you aren't getting stitches. Can I see the film?"

Carol passes it over, glad to see her daughter in good spirits despite her worry and forced immobilization. She peers at the monitoring printout and sees why. The contractions have stopped.

"I think she could get by with a walking boot. Pretty sure the fibula break is unrelated to the hole in her calf other than breaking the ankle in the fall. Wonder if it was a ricochet?"

That's a better case scenario than a bone broken by a bullet. Carol checks the wound after releasing the pressure bandage. It seeps blood a little bit, but nothing worrisome.

"We'll irrigate the wound and start an IV to give you a good run of antibiotics," Carol says as Cricket passes the film back. "And painkillers. It's got to be treated more as a puncture wound than anything else."

"How's Lori?" Cricket asks.

"Awake and alert. It's looking good."

"Any chance I can visit?"

"In a little while, maybe. I don't imagine resting in there would hurt you and she might like you close."

Tara nods. "More restful for her, not being a captive doctor in the ward."

That's understandable. Carol can't imagine anything about this room being restful. The few sleeping are that way more due to medication than intent to sleep.

She goes to get the supplies needed for Tara's leg, pausing to watch Jazz for a minute. Cricket's looking thoughtful.

"It just occurred to me you've never been exposed to his pain tolerance," the young woman says. "It's part of the Asperger's. He doesn't have pain feedback quite the same way you or I do. If he says it doesn't hurt or not enough to slow him down, that's likely true."

Somewhere in the literature, Carol does recall something about being hyposensitive to pain signals. It makes her feel a shade better for not noticing anything beyond the facial injury sooner.

"Isn't that dangerous?" Tara asks, looking curious.

"When he was younger, it was. He had ear infections, but wouldn't complain about pain. He broke his arm and waited until he got home from school to tell Dad when he was twelve, because he wasn't comfortable with the school nurse."

"Seriously?" Carol can't imagine. She relays the X-ray results.

"Best to let him handle it since it's not urgent. I think he needs to stay busy right now, all things considered."

Carol considers the irony of her own inability to settle down and rest. She supposes she can relate.

But she still keeps a careful eye on Jazz. Knowing his pain threshold is skewed seems to make it even more important now.

She's ready for this day to be over and wishes she could gather all her family home and safe. There's hours to go, so she takes a deep breath and gets to work on Tara's leg.

There will be time for putting everyone in bubble wrap later.


	98. Aftermath, Part 4

**June 30, 2011**

~*~ SW ~*~

As much as they both want to linger with Lori, she needs sleep and they both have things to do. Daryl assures them that between him and Carl, they can handle the girls. They can't leave everything to Merle.

Once they're outside in the sun, Shane's amazed to realize it's mid-afternoon. The day seems both shorter and longer than that.

Merle's got the cleanup well underway, and when he comes to meet them, Shane thinks it's the first time he's ever seen Merle look old enough to be Scout's father.

"Got a team putting in a better gate than just pushing the destroyed trailer in the gap. Morgan's pretty damn good with that sort of welding work."

Merle stares at the barn as if he can visualize their unwanted residents.

"Want us to start talking to the prisoners?" Shane offers. After all, between him, Scout, and Rick, interrogation is their skill set.

"Yeah. We're gonna need to make some decisions. Can't keep them tied up indefinitely."

"And the leader?" Scout asks.

"I'll leave that up to you. No way he's innocent today, no matter what the others might be."

Merle's called away and leaves them to their own organization.

Rick hums softly. "Some might talk just from a little kindness. They're in the heat, no water, no food."

They had meal of sorts, distributed by those in the community center. Shane thinks Rick might be right, and it's not unheard of for people to be softened up a little.

He nods when Scout sends him a questioning look.

"Go ask for a box of sandwiches and some bottles of water, Rick. That'll give us time to let the guards have a break," she tells Rick.

They're at the barn long before Rick's back with supplies. Amanda walks the aisle with them glancing over the stall doors.

"My recommendation is to start with the boy first," Amanda says once they've back outside. "I don't think he'll have any information, but I think he'll flip and be a tour guide on identifying the rest."

Makes sense. Leaning on the young and barely initiated is always a good opening, and the kid was already trying to flee when Michonne caught him.

"You and Leslie, go take a break. Get something better to eat than those sandwiches they sent around."

While waiting on Rick, they go ahead and spring the kid. Shane hauls him to his feet in the stall after cutting him free of the zip ties.

"Alright, kid, this is how this goes. Gonna let you take a piss and then maybe get a drink. How the rest of this goes is up to you." He's good at making his voice carry from years as a deputy and puts that to use now.

Might as well get the other seven ready for what's coming.

The teenager nods a little frantically.

"You know how this goes if I even think you're going to pull something stupid?"

"You're gonna shoot me?"

"That'd be the easy out. No, you turn out to be trouble, you get to answer her questions first, not mine."

The boy looks to Scout, but whatever he sees in her expression convinces him. "Yes, sir."

He keeps a grip on the kid's arm and escorts him to the barn bathroom. "Door stays open."

The mortified look towards Scout has her turning around, shaking her head as she surveys the rest of the barn.

"What's your name, kid?" she calls back.

The teenager's fumbling a little frantically at his jeans, trying to angle so he's not exposed to Shane either. "Jody."

"You can think of us as Deputy and Staff Sergeant Walsh."

The kid finishes, flushes, and zips up and starts to exit the bathroom.

"Christ on a cracker, boy, wash your damn hands."

That nearly sends his wife into laughter, based on how she shifts her feet and huffs out her breath.

Amanda is right. The boy knows little beyond that the Governor asked for volunteers to save some imprisoned survivors. He turned and ran when it became obvious that most of the fighters were women and kids.

Once he's managed to down his sandwich and half the water, Shane nudges him. "Let's take a walk. How about you take a peek at your fellow prisoners and tell me their names?"

The kid knows five of the seven, which is better than Shane hoped for, with the population of Woodbury's population being nearly as large as Homestead's.

If the boy's correct on those he does identify, only one of the two grown men, Shumpert, is part of the militia. The rest are all volunteers like Jody.

When they reach the Governor's stall, he thinks the boy is going to vomit, but he verifies the man led Woodbury.

"What happened to him?"

"He attacked a teenage girl and she fought back." It's not the entire story, but it's close enough.

"What is going to happen to us?"

"You? Most likely you're going to be sent home. As for the rest, it depends on how involved they were in the crimes this man committed toward others."

"And him?"

Scout answers, her tone the same as she pronounced Dawn Lerner's death sentence.

"We don't allow monsters to live."

~*~ CP ~*~

Everyone's as fixed up as they can manage when Carol makes her way onto the ward. She doesn't miss that Karen's fully armed, settled into a chair between Jazz and Jim's bed.

"Can't really help with the cleanup, so I figured someone should keep an eye on things until council was free." The dark haired woman's assessing gaze goes across their six restrained patients critically.

"Thank you. You know about Alex, right?"

Wasn't that a crazy thing to catch up to? The theory that removing a bitten extremity might save a life is one Hershel proposed, but no one's been bitten to find out.

"He's just been sleeping, seems natural. No fever when Patrick checks."

Even with Mary there to nurse her son, Jazz refused to consider surgery himself without extra checks on 'his' patient. Carol didn't question whether it was a lack of trust in Mary as a little known adult or in her being too protective as Alex's mother.

"Let's hope Hershel's theory is right that it's like a gangrene infection." Since the veterinarian has observed multiple infection deaths in his own family, Carol will trust he has the right data.

She checks Jazz's vitals, which rouses him from his light sleep as their quiet conversation did not. His face is bandaged and more swollen now than before.

He forgets he shouldn't smile and tries, grimacing.

"How's your pain level?" She remembers Cricket's rule of thumb: add two to whatever he says and if he says he's cold, opt for pain meds.

"Five, maybe. Mostly my back."

That's the conundrum. Ideally, he would stay off his bruised back, but he needs to stay elevated for his facial injury. Although she's been warned his face could stay numb if the nerve was damaged, she's hoping it's temporary.

"I can bring you a dose of pain meds."

He starts to shake his head, but stops in time. "Maybe later."

That was the other warning Merle added to Cricket's, when she summoned him once things settled enough for Jazz's surgery. Jazz detests the fog narcotics give him.

"How about I bring you one of the pain patches like we got for Abuelita's arthritis? And an ice pack." The patches are diclofenac, used to keep the stomach upset side effects down for the elderly woman.

"Okay." He reaches toward the bottled drink on his table, shifting off his back and to his left. That gives her an idea as she hurries off.

When she returns, she's got the patches, two large ice packs, and Patrick following her with an armful of pillows.

"Stay on your side, sweetheart." After applying the patch on one of the few areas of unbruised skin on the right side of his back, she tucks two pillows behind him and then the ice packs.

The other two pillows, she gives him to tuck between his knees and to drape his arm across. He only loosely tucks them, rolling some of his weight back into the ice packs.

"She's due more pain meds," he says.

It takes Carol a moment to realize he's indicating one of the prisoners. She doesn't like that her son is in the bed closest to the first two brought in, but at the same time, she doesn't think they'll hurt the person who's been nursing them.

"What have you been giving her?"

"Morphine, but I didn't know how to set up the PCA pump and Patrick didn't want to without supervision. Haloperidol and oxacillin in the IV port and bacitracin under the dressings."

Carol checks the improvised chart, reviewing it in her head. She understands the antibiotic, since a staph infection is the most likely issue with the second degree burns the woman has on her legs and left arm. But the anti-psychotic? "Why haloperidol?"

"They gave it to Scout. I checked with Christopher for the dose. Anxiety's bad for a burned person and it boosts the morphine."

Damn, despite the scars, it's sometimes too easy to forget how Scout nearly died. With Jazz's innate need for knowledge, she isn't surprised he remembers so much about the medical treatment.

His patient is awake and watching the discussion. She sees the scrawled name on the notebook and tries for a smile she doesn't mean.

"How is your pain level, Evelyn?"

The woman blinks a little, looking to Jazz instead of Carol.

"Is he okay?"

"He will be." Carol's not giving her more information than that, but at least she asked. This is the patient that had Carol issuing the edict to take prisoners and allow surrenders.

"Maybe a five? But itching is worse than the pain."

Since Jazz's notes indicate she's at the outer limit since her last dose, Carol nods. "I'll get you another dose of morphine until a doctor can assess."

"Benedryl too." Jazz is trying to fight a yawn when she turns. "It'll help the itching and probably make her sleep."

"You, go back to sleep. I'll keep an eye on all your patients."

Based on what she's seen in the ward, she wonders if anyone except Jazz and Patrick have directly treated any of the prisoners after Caleb left to help with the surgeries.

She wonders if it's a sign of his age or injury or both that he simply closes his eyes. When she returns with the meds and a PCA pump, Evelyn is watching the other prisoners carefully.

Four are in hospital beds, but two are in camping cots between the other four beds. The amputee patient is awake too now, watching warily.

"How old is he? Your son," Evelyn asks as Carol dispenses the immediate meds before working on the PCA.

"Fifteen." Carol's giving her points for observation, since so many mistake Jazz as older.

"He and the other boy have been very kind today. It's impressive, considering what we did here."

Carol's hands shake a little at the reminder as she presses the end of the stethoscope to Evelyn's chest. She intended to wait on questioning anyone, to not do it solo. "He said you were told we needed rescuing here. Take a deep breath."

Evelyn obeys the directive. "I don't know what the regular militia knew, but when he called up volunteers, that's what he told us."

"And are any of the militia in here?" Their intel indicates the militia is entirely male, and four of the prisoners in the ward are male.

"All five of them." Evelyn motions toward the woman between her bed and the next. "Haley did gate guard shifts, but none of the supply runs."

The five count includes Daniel, so Carol assumes the young spy's not widely known as a spy yet.

"Do you know what those men did outside the walls? They murdered as many groups as they brought in. Elderly, children. One of them kept a journal of his atrocities."

"That's horrible."

"I bet that was Adam."

Carol raises her eyes from where she's making notes on Evelyn's chart to stare at the man in the next bed.

He responds to the challenging look by continuing. "He wasn't one of my men. Wouldn't have trusted him at my back. But Reid liked men with no morals on his team. Disappeared several months back on a run."

"And is Reid here today?"

"I don't think so. His orders were to go for the smaller community."

Carol slides the notebook back in place and steps to the foot of the man's bed to retrieve his record. There's no name in it, but the man's willing to talk.

"What's your name?"

"Cesar Martinez." He looks toward Evelyn and the sleeping woman. "Not all the people here today knew they were serving a monster."

"Did you?"

"At first, no. But then it was too late." He moves, finding the limits of his restraints quickly, and takes a deep breath. "Whatever you need to know, I'll answer. But don't make everyone else pay for his lies."

"We aren't monsters like him." She doesn't know how they'll resolve this, but executing everyone hasn't been on the table since Jazz's first intel from the woman.

"Is he dead?" The hope in his voice reminds her of Merle telling her about the Grady cops in their interrogations.

"Not yet. But he's captured and wounded." And not here, but she'll let him draw his own conclusions.

"You've sure it's him?"

"He was identified impulsively by two separate people, so, yes."

"Whatever you do with the rest of us, there's no fixing him."

Carol doesn't respond to that, but looks at the others. "Do you know them all?"

Martinez leans to look at the bed. "Haley, like Evelyn said. Gate guard. Doubt she knew he was unstable."

He studies the other men across the aisle. "Guy face down is Tim. Head injury on the cot is Warren. Other head injury is Crowley. Can't get a good look, but I think that's Daniel."

"And your assessment of them?" It can't be entirely trusted, but the intel can be verified by matching stories, especially if Daniel survives.

"None of them were on Reid's team. Tim's a hothead. Helped with catching walkers for the Governor's projects. Warren's the follow orders type."

"Crowley?"

"Redneck glad to have his skills valued finally. Went out with Reid once and asked for hunting duty after that."

"Daniel?"

"He's a good kid. Don't let the gang tattoos make you think otherwise."

"And you?"

"I did what I could, but not enough to stop him."

"How did he find us?"

"He's been looking a while. Refugee showed up who got turned out of another place. That one was blown up, burned to the ground when we investigated. Near Marietta."

Terminus. Damn. She can't blame them, since no one really thought about the few who didn't stay at Terminus before the bandit attack as a risk.

"Think he used drones to spy on your people. Wasn't fully in the loop for the planning of today, so that's guesswork. But one of Reid's men was a techie. Liked his toys now that there's no limit on having to pay for them."

"Describe Reid."

"Big guy. Not as big as your boy there, but bigger than me. Mulato with dreads. Would be more dangerous than the Governor, except he doesn't pretend to be anything other than what he is."

Carol thinks it sounds like the man that the rescued children described leading the attack on their camp. If he led the attack on Terminus today, he'll harm no more of the living. Their allies slaughtered those attackers down to the last man.

She doesn't tell him that, checking his chart. "Thank you for the information. I'll get your meds sorted once I verify with the doctors. Burns, we know. Amputations, not so much."

"I am fine to wait."

She doubts that, between the timing of his last meds and his body language, but at least he understands his position here. As she heads to the operating room to consult with the team working on Sam, she's interrupted.

"Ma'am."

Evelyn's looking a little anxious, and Carol arches a brow.

"Cesar stopped our gunner from firing on the children."

Carol thinks of the damage the Bradley did that she saw up here and turns to stare at Martinez.

"I may not qualify as a good man anymore, but I was a father once."

It's the only defense he makes, so she nods and goes back to her errand. At least now they know why the Polaris escaped.

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle's beyond exhausted when he calls a halt to the recovery effort. Homestead is as secure as they can make it for tonight. People need to regroup and hold their loved ones.

He intends to shower and do the same, once he's met with council. Stepping past the discarded clothes, he laughs a little at the evidence multiple people borrowed his shower. Considering how many of his clothes he saw among family, it's not surprising.

Making a rush job of it, he's back outside even as vehicles pull up the drive and park near the Village. He knows no one unsafe would be this far in past the watch that rotated in to relieve Amy and Glynnis, he's prepared when the first man out of the lead vehicle is Jesus.

"You made one helluva fast trip." He takes notice of the others leaving vehicles. "And brought some impressive assistance from the alliance."

"Alliance aside, my family needed help."

The earnest, worried expression the younger man wears earns him a smile from Merle. "Let's get the medical folks inside. Ours are run off their feet right now."

Jesus doesn't need any instruction to lead the three doctors and two nurses inside, leaving Ezekiel behind.

"I am no true veterinarian, but I figured some of my skills translate well enough."

Merle laughs. "Ever helped with the milking? Because we're down both our assistant vets at the moment."

"I will endeavour to learn. How are the youngsters?"

"Beth's got a broken arm, but nearly put an end to the Governor all on her tiny lonesome."

"And your son?"

"I'm pretty sure we don't have the full story yet, but he covered his wounded aunt with his own body. Even with the armor, he got pretty roughed up. Needed a surgical repair for a broken cheekbone, too."

"There are times I wish there were two of my Shiva."

"I wouldn't have said no to a tiger on the ground today, but from what I've seen, the dogs did damage of their own."

Several of the dead invaders bore wounds that matches up to dog attacks, some of them fatal. They went after walkers too, hamstringing the damn things and immobilizing them.

"I certainly wouldn't want to face dogs the size of yours if they were protecting their people."

"I'm headed to a meeting of our council to decide what we're doing with the remnants of the attackers. Could use a cool head in there, if you're willing?"

Ezekiel nods. "I am willing, although I cannot promise neutrality when it is my friends who have suffered losses."

Merle claps a hand on the man's shoulder and smiles. He's find with that limitation. They suffered losses today, but the arrival of the Virginians is a reminder Homestead and Terminus are not alone.

~*~ Jazz ~*~

Jazz jars awake when the commotion starts. It takes his exhausted brain a minute to realize he's hearing Spanish and not English.

Despite the protests his back and thigh give, he levers himself upright to reply in the same language. Glad he doesn't have an IV, he gets to the other bed as fast as he can. Daniel's frantic, caught in some nightmare that didn't dispel when he wakes, based on the frantic words.

But as soon as he sees Jazz he calms.

"Angel?"

"She is safe. You warned us in time." He repeats it again as Daniel settles. Then he calls out in English. "Someone go get Scout."

He uses a corner of the sheet to stop the blood where Daniel's ripped the IV forcefully from his arm in his attempt to leave the bed. "Someone grab me some bandages."

The Vato is studying him, and now that he's more aware, speaks in English. "You're her brother. You saved the abuelas."

"I helped, yes."

"Jasper Benjamin, you get right back in bed."

His mother's worried voice makes him flinch. He motions to the pressure he's holding on Daniel's arm. She sighs and moves to take over, even as Beth comes back with supplies.

"He woke up thinking he was still captive," Jazz says softly to Carol. "I couldn't let him keep thinking that."

That at least makes the disapproval fade from her expression. She tends to the bleeding arm, and he sees Scout striding in the room and thinks she must have been in the building somewhere.

When the rest of the council, plus visitoring leaders, appears behind her, he figures they must have had to improvise with the watch building gone.

With Scout to translate, he limps back to his bed. Before he can make the drop to sit down his muscles will protest, Paul is there. He tucks an arm around him, letting him brace to get back in bed.

"Did it get too hot for your hat?" he teases, even as he blinks through a spike in pain from his thigh.

"Are you mocking the man bun?"

"No, not at all." He likes seeing more of Paul's face with the hat gone and hair pulled back.

He settles down and only half listens to Scout as she questions and reassures Daniel. He's seen the damage and even tended to the Vato before he finally got shuffled to surgery of his own.

He hopes none of the people he took care of were part of the torture. That would be more than he wants to think about.

He recognizes his mother's gentle touch as she rechecks the pillows and slides two new ice packs in place of the ones discarded an hour before.

"Jesus. I want you to park yourself right here and make sure he stays put."

"Yes, ma'am."

Carol laughs at the cheeky response, and Paul settles onto the bed, wedging himself between the bed rail and Jazz.

"You comfortable?"

"Yeah." He can see Paul mainly in profile until he turns and smiles.

"Get some sleep, Jasper," he says softly.

He doses off against Paul's warmth, content there's others keeping watch now.


	99. Aftermath, Part 5

**June 30, 2011**

~*~ SW ~*~

They wait just long enough for the doctors to do a consult before the council convenes in what Shane suspects was intended to be a mini-cafeteria for the portable hospital that's become their infirmary. With no need to eat in larger groups here, the medical staff turned it into medical storage.

There's no real room to sit, but no one expects the meeting to run that long. The Homesteaders are exhausted, and the Virginians spent most of the day on the road. He's actually a little glad that Hershel and Merle invited the other leaders to sit in on the council meeting. This is the sort of issue that can make or break an alliance.

"We gonna bring Jesus in too?" he asks, just as Hershel enters with Harlan and Camille. Ezekiel's already leaned against a stack of boxes, next to Merle and Carol. Gareth's looking anxious to be elsewhere, and Shane remembers his wife's due to give birth any day now.

Harlan shakes his head. "He's indicated he'll support Homestead's decision in whatever direction it'll take."

Shane figures it's not just wholesale support, but having an extra guard on hand in the ward that motivates Jesus. And considering the man put down Pete Anderson for the attack on Deanna Monroe, he doesn't figure Jesus has any execution objections either. He's a curious mixture of diplomacy and firm action, which is probably why he and Honey get along so well.

"Before we start, how are the patients?" Tyreese asks. "It's been hard to keep up with it all."

Hershel rubs at his beard, looking every bit of his sixty-one years. "Sam's critical. Even with Emmett arriving and better expertise on thoracic surgery, his chances are still in the wait and pray range. If he survives, he won't walk again, and he'll need more surgeries."

"Like Mandy had?" Merle asks.

"Along those lines, yes. And each additional surgery increases the chances he won't make it, but conversely, he has to have them to adjust his body for functioning as a parapalegic."

"Well, we're already halfway down the path of anything he needs by looking after Mandy, so I figure we do everything we can. Not like we're limited on supplies to experiment and keep him going," Merle ventures.

Everyone agrees. Shane's pretty damned certain that it would be the same agreement even if they had to go claw more supplies out of the various medical establishments of the entire South. Sam's one of theirs.

"And the others?"

"Lori's stable, although we'll need to watch for infection and keep a close eye on her liver function as it regrows. We'll probably release her home in a few days, as long as her tests remain steady. Dale's regained consciousness long enough for us to assess his awareness level, but he'll need care a while as he heals."

"He could stay in the nursing home. That'll be easier and less isolated than staying in his own place," Carol suggests. "Or Amy may want him to stay with her. We can spare help to her since she shouldn't be lifting extra weight."

Hershel nods. "As for the rest, most were minor wounds that we'll watch for infection issues, with the two most concerning being Jim and Terminus' Marguerite. Both endured stomach wounds that needed corrective surgery and anything involving the intestinal area is tricky."

"The rest?" Tyreese asks.

"Have all been either dressed as minor wounds with painkillers and antibiotics, or already surgically repaired, such as Jazz's facial fracture. Some with broken ribs, a broken nose, three gunshot wounds to a leg or foot."

"What about Alex?" Gareth inquires. It's the most interest he's shown in the meeting, but considering it's his brother, that's to be expected.

"That's the mystery question. So far, he shows no sign of fever or infection from the bite. We're keeping him monitored and restrained until such time we're certain the infection was curtailed by the amputation. In consulting with all the staff here, and Carol's memory of interviews with survivors, no one's ever made it past seventy-two hours once bitten."

"What's the rest of the property looking like?" Patricia's looking to Merle now.

"Secure for now, although we'll have to do major repairs and finish the cleanup on the horse farm tomorrow. We pulled the trucks with the walkers and the invaders down to the outer property to be disposed of later. Our own people are in the reefer van we've been keeping running while we decide on whether they would want to be buried or cremated."

"How many did we lose?" Scout asks. Shane realizes it's one of those things he hasn't allowed himself to think about, and his wife, that number's going to gnaw at her no matter whether it's one or a dozen.

"Six. Two of the elderly. Mr. Salcedo, we expected him to slip away any day now as it was. Mrs. Rogers had a heart attack in the shelter and they were unable to revive her. Both in their late seventies. Percy from the watch team, Harry from the building crew, Noris off Ryan's team, and Silvia from the daycare team."

Isn't that the fucking irony of the day, that they lost a girl who normally spends her days tending to tiny children. But Shane knows that Silvia volunteered to be on one of the attacking teams that went to Woodbury today, so the risks for her were voluntary as much as forced.

"For a surprise attack with most of your people off the property, those are amazing numbers." Harlan sighs. "I don't mean to demean their loss, or the injured, but it just blows my mind that you were invaded and they were beat back so soundly."

"We train." Scout's voice is rough, and Shane links his hand with hers. "Everyone went through a modified sort of boot camp, all the way down to the teenagers. I wanted to think I was paranoid in pushing everyone that hard, but if I hadn't…" She shudders.

Shane doesn't want to imagine the scenario where the Governor found a populace as soft and unprepared as Woodbury itself was today. While they were willing to take surrenders and took the entire town without anything more than stunning a few gate guards, he suspects few, if any, would have survived the Governor today if they didn't fight back.

"What did your interrogations of the prisoners in the barn turn up?" Merle asks.

Shane answers when Scout flexes her hand, signalling for him to take the lead. "The stories all line up to what was initially reported. Most of our prisoners appear to have been the more able-bodied from the civilians of Woodbury, who were drawn in to volunteer for a mission to save captive survivors held here."

There's some derisive noises made, but he continues.

"They're naive and confused as hell. Only one of the men in the barn was actively part of the militia, and we'll need to verify with the hospitalized prisoners, but I'm inclined to believe the man's guilty along the lines of the Grady cops versus being an active criminal. Too scared to buck a system once he was entrenched in it."

"That's the same impression I got from one of the two prisoners able to talk," Carol states. "One admits to leading supply teams, but confirms the prior intel we had that there was one particular group of the militia responsible for most of the atrocities we came across."

She indicates Gareth and her smile is as close to mean as he's ever seen Carol wear. "Gareth's people insured they won't be marauding around Georgia ever again. They were responsible for Daniel's torture, too."

The Terminus co-leader just smiles, his own expression grim in its own right. "We will never be an easy target for any who come to take what isn't theirs, and if it's more justoce dealth, so be it. I only regret that it is a former resident of ours who triggered the Governor to search for either of our communities."

When Scout told the man, prior to the meeting, Shane thought he would be actually ill at the very thought.

"It isn't Terminus' fault. None of our communities hold people hostage if they want to leave. It's just poor luck that that ex-resident ended up in the worst place to be."

"Did they survive?" Tyreese asks. "Can't see that man being the kindly sort if he wanted information, not after seeing what was done to Daniel."

"Ironically, he did. He was just skewed enough they figured he would work out. Shumpert says he was here today, part of the people he brought in through the breach in the thicket wall. Since he's not among the wounded or the living, the assumption is that he died or somehow fled," Shane says.

"That may be where our process in loading up the Woodbury bodies will pay off," Merle says. "Part of me wanted to just load them up and set the whole damned trailer on fire somewhere, but we removed any personal effects from the bodies and bagged them in Ziplocs in case they had family."

"Considering how many were here under false pretenses, perhaps it is a kindness that will be appreciated," Hershel notes.

"We can hope. Because now we've got an entire town that isn't an ally. Without their militia and without their leader, they're vulnerable, maybe even more so than Alexandria was." Merle shifts his weight, looking tired and sore.

"From what we saw today, I don't think they're going to be able to make it without serious intervention," Shane says. "They don't have enough cropland enclosed, and precious little gardening in place even where they are fenced in. How that madman intended to sustain the people there beyond another year of scavenging, I have no idea."

He wonders if his people at the quarry would have ended up in similar straits, if he hadn't gotten lucky enough to cross paths and ally with the Dixons. One part of him wants to think he would have thought ahead to sustaining his people and not just surviving, but the realist in him knows that Homestead thrives because they have so many different skill sets available.

"It is a possibility that some of the Virginia communities could take in small numbers. How many people do you think were left behind?" Ezekiel asks.

"Eighty-one." Scout shrugs when the visitors look at her for the precise number. "We took a headcount as we gathered the people they left unprotected. By the estimates we had of their numbers, around ninety came north. We've got fourteen survivors here that might be returned to Woodbury."

"We can handle half of them easily," Carol says. "I already have housing set up, down in the expansion. We knew when we took down the Governor that his people might not be able to survive without intervention, and two hours is too far away for us to train them in the skills they need."

"Could we handle more than that?" Tyreese asks. Shane can see the man doing a mental count on the fairly large neighborhood they've enclosed for the sake of extra farmland more than the housing itself.

"Truthfully, with extra help to get houses ready down there, we could take all of them."

"Would you be truly comfortable with taking them all in?" Harlan asks.

"Permanently? I'm not sure it would work out. But if we bring them here, train them to survive, and clear out another location like we did for Terminus, I'm sure another viable community in north Georgia benefits everyone here," Carol says.

She looks at Gareth. "Would Terminus object? You're the closest if they don't turn out to be as innocent as expected."

He thinks it over for a few minutes. "No, Terminus would not object. We trust you to weed out any bad apples from the midst. But only as their own separate community in the future or absorbed into Homestead. We would not be open to taking any of them in."

That's been an ongoing rule for Terminus. They won't stop their people from marital alliances, like Dr. Edwards marrying the biology teacher in their ranks and moving to Terminus, but they don't take in random immigrants.

"There's a few areas that Glenn and Daryl's teams have indicated would be good to secure for the future if we didn't want to continue expanding here," Merle notes. "But it'll be next spring before that would be a possibility. That's a long time to expect our people to live alongside them."

"We could take in anyone who could not cope with it," Gareth offers. It surprises Shane a little, the drift from the firm policy, but today perhaps proves they aren't as separate as they might have been. Terminus certainly repaid Homestead's rescue of them in full.

"As would we," Ezekiel adds. "If they do not mind leaving Georgia behind." The other two community leaders agree as well.

"Then that's settled. We can't leave those people sitting down there at loose ends for long. Can you spare teams to go tomorrow or the next day?" Scout asks, looking at her father.

Merle and Tyreese exchange looks, then Merle nods. "It could have been a lot worse here, so take your usual teams, yours and Shane's."

"What about the Governor himself?"

Patricia's question is the culmination of what they decide tonight, isn't it?

Scout frowns. "He dies."

He knows it is literally that simple to his wife. If the council declares him to die in the next fifteen minutes, Scout will walk out to the barn and make it happen. It'll be something she never even considers a black mark on her psyche, because a man like the Governor isn't a man in her eyes.

"I don't think anyone objects to his death," Carol says. "Even his own people seem hopeful of his demise."

Shane remembers the doctor at Woodbury and her careful mentioning of their leader not being a good man. Even the mad scientist they collected didn't try to paint the man as anything other than a psychopath, and Milton grew up with the man.

"I think those of Woodbury who knew what he really was will rejoice if he's gone. The ones who've seen behind his mask are terrified of him," he says. "I suspect if we do a through search on the areas the Governor kept private, we'll find plenty to convince those who don't know what he is."

That instinct that he's really close to evidence kept hidden, to finally getting to the bottom of a mystery: that's been settling in all evening as the fear and heat of battle fade. He suspects that Milton's probably a big key to it, and the awkward man doesn't seem the type to cover for his former friend's crimes once he's free of him.

"The question really is, do we make it a public execution like Grady, or private like Ed?"

Merle's stated the true root of the issue, Shane thinks.

"I don't know that he's enough of a monster in our people's eyes to need a public execution," Hershel says. "The rapists at Grady terrorized those women and children. They needed to know those men were dead."

None of those who were there look directly at Carol, but he suspects she knows they do wonder if what they did at the quarry was enough. She shifts a little and sighs.

"It was enough for me, and for Sophia, to know the man who tried to kill us was gone. I wouldn't have let her watch even if you had killed him where he lay that night. I didn't need the details to feel safe, and I trusted that Scout and Shane made that happen."

"Terminus would not need a spectacle. If our people trust that Homestead ended the threat, your own should be even more comfortable with it. It's not much different than if the man died in the barn." Gareth speaks confidently, seeming to shrug off any worry.

"The only blessing of the fact that he did live is that he doesn't actually die at Beth's hand," Hershel says quietly. "I know she was able and willing to fight, and she did not hesitate to do what needed to be done, but she's only seventeen and killed enough people today."

For a girl never trained as a sniper, many people reported shots from overhead helping them clear the field. It's not something expected from gentle, sweet Beth, but Shane's damned glad she managed it. There's no telling how many lives she saved from her sniper's nest today, or even more by taking on a man twice her size with a damned hunting knife.

That's without even considering that she gave up having body armor to protect Anaya and Judith.

"If there are no objections, we'll take care of it," Shane offers, because it's a we. He's never leaving Scout to an execution alone if he's able.

Everyone studies each other for a good five minutes, but no objections are raised.

"I would suggest everyone get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day for everyone," Hershel says at last.

As easy as that, the Governor's time left is down to minutes.

~*~ EP ~*~

Eugene sets down the camping gear he liberated from stores, glad his work entitles him to keys to inventory now. Honey's doing one last roaming visit of family in the infirmary, which gave him time to slip away.

Augustus stirs, just a bit, but seems content to watch him as he spreads out the camping pads and bedding. The dog really doesn't need the trek down to their cabin. Just getting him outside to pee was an exercise in wincing for him and whimpering for the poor dog.

"At least this people hospital won't try to kick you out, right, Augie?"

He slumps down close and scratches the dog's ears. He's never been much of an animal person most of his life, so the catahoula is the first dog he's ever had much association with. Most days, they cohabitate and share Honey's affections, but Augustus generally ignores him.

"You finally decided you like me?" he asks. "I would have preferred you showing that with a million games of fetch versus you putting yourself between me and a bad guy, you know."

Augie huffs and licks his hand, making him laugh. He slides down to the dog's eye level, keeping up the gentle scratching.

He's almost asleep, listening to Augustus's rhythmic breathing, when Honey wakes him by curling her tall frame against his back, leaning up to look at Augie too.

"He knows just how my world would never work without you in it," she says softly, her arm draped over him to pet the dog as well.

Eugene smiles, so drowsy from exhaustion and pain meds to really respond.

"And here you are making a pallet to sleep with him." There's a gentle kiss where his neck and shoulder meet, just above his collar. "We're keeping you forever, Eugene Porter."

Encouraged by Honey's tone and affectionate gesture, Augustus swipes Eugene's face with a lap of his tongue. He sputters more awake and swears the dog's laughing as much as his owner.

But he wouldn't change this moment for anything.

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle lays a gentle hand on Carol's shoulder as she looks over the part of the house that got the brunt of the sprinkler system activating.

"I don't think I even realized they were there."

"I'm just glad they worked."

The garage is gone, the upper floor apartment partially collapsed into the actual garage below. Luckily, the supplies stored there weren't irreplaceable, and only the hallways got drenched when the sprinkler system felt the heat of the explosion when the doors blew inward.

He has those openings boarded up and the water mopped up, but the damage could have been much worse.

"All their things," Carol says softly, and he really should have expected her sorrow to be the girls' and Christian's home being lost.

"Bunch of the teens salvaged everything they could." They did it without being asked, too. Cricket and Tara are popular among the younger population. "Took the washables down and even started the laundry."

He even told them to use the dryers, which are rarely used to spare the electric reserves.

"I'll sort a team to finish the job tomorrow. They can stay in Jazz's old room for a while."

Carol's posture shifts as she begins to plan to fix the problem plaguing part of her family. He pulls her against his chest, rubbing a hand across her belly.

"We'll rebuild it however they like. Don't really need a fancy garage anymore, right?"

She laughs, just a little, and wriggles in his arms so she's facing him. "You just like to build new things."

"Guilty as charged. No matter how bad today was, we can rebuild, and I'm just thankful they missed areas with more of our people. Today could have been so much worse."

Just remembering how pale and fragile Lori was when he visited her for a few minutes after the council meeting makes him also remember the damage his son took to protect Lori. He's proud of the man his son is becoming - has become, truly - but those ESAPI plates holding and the graze wound must be proof of guardian angels.

"I don't like leaving Jazz," Carol grumbles as he guides her toward their room.

"I don't either, but he's well cared for, and the younger two are probably going to sneak right in bed with Mama tonight."

She shows how tired she is by heading to the bed and not the shower. He helps her switch grubby clothes for a nightgown.

She's still frowning even as she tucks under the covers.

"Do you want me to go back over there?" With Jazz sleeping soundly under Jesus's protection and Cricket and Tara two beds away, he convinced himself to go home for the night.

"I should say yes. He's not grown yet."

Merle sits, taking her hands as he realizes this is the first time Carol's had to deal with the complexity of multiple children when one is injured.

"One of the hardest things I had to learn with being mostly on my own with the kids is that they understand quite well on days like this, that you can't be everywhere. If we left him on his lonesome, yeah, that's us failing. But he's safe and secure and not worrying that we're overwhelmed."

She tears up at that, and he ends up hauling her into his lap to let her cry out the tension of the day. It takes a while for it to come back to words.

"I didn't realize he was hurt for hours."

"Oh, darlin'. He's old enough to seek help, and he did make an educated assessment of his needs. It's not on you that he waited."

He brushes away the tears and gives her a smile. "Besides, he was just copying his badass mama in keeping folks patched together. He saved Alex today, you know, and he was never interested in people medicine before you became a nurse."

She gives a tremulous smile and then yawns hard enough it ought to hurt. "You think that's due to me and not Cricket?"

"I know it's due to you. And he's going to be very upset at you if you worry yourself into the bed beside him, now isn't he?"

Any further protest or worry is curbed when both Logan and Sophia appear in the doorway. Faced with her own exhaustion and the two youngest kids need for comfort, she gives in and tucks them close around her.

He leans in and busses kisses across all three foreheads and Carol's belly for good measure. "I'll see you in the morning."

"You're going back to the infirmary?"

"Yeah. I'll go make sure our other ducklings stay safe for the night."

That gets a giggle out of Sophia and a snore from Logan, but the sleepy smile from Carol makes him truly smile for the first time today.

Things could have gone so much worse today, but their people were prepared, all the way to the brave little ones who ran for cover and stayed safe.

Homestead was tested and held strong.


	100. Aftermath, Part 6

_A/N: Although this won't quite cross 500k on FFnet due to editing down from explicit to mature, at chapter 100, RBM is now 500k. Honestly, 600k is probably the new goal, and for all of you who made it this far on a story that doesn't tap into any of the typical fanon loves, thank you for enjoying this long and winding trip with me. :)_

**June 30, 2011**

~*~ Gabriel ~*~

Although he's eaten and showered, Gabriel can't bring himself to go home to sleep as night falls at last. The scars left on the property are hidden as the light fades, but he knows that with tomorrow's sunrise, they'll be visible again. As for the people, nightfall won't be such a blessing, he fears.

It shows in the fact that instead of going to individual homes, the community center hosts about half their population crowded together in a mockery of camping. He understands the need not to lie alone in the night, but he doesn't feel he's yet to earn that sort of comfort.

Instead, he's in the hospital ward. He peered in briefly to the two isolated rooms before coming here, and while it's terrible watching Ana and holding watch over Sam's broken body as he struggles to live, the seemingly less injured Lori is worse. It's not just that she's the mother of an infant or the wife of the man who brought him in out of isolation, but that he witnessed what happened.

As terrible as it was hearing the frantic screams of his parishioners trapped outside the church, he didn't actually _see_ what happened to them. Today, his inability to truly help meant he watched a child take a life with his bare hands to protect someone he loved, and then lay his own body across his aunt to continue to protect her.

The resolve in the boy's eyes as he never wavered from his self-appointed guardianship even with each rifle round's impact shaking his entire body haunts Gabriel in a way he didn't think possible. It's why he picked up the unfamiliar rifle and fought back against the evils of the world for the first time when Eugene ordered him to.

He's right that Scout Walsh is in the ward. After seeing that her husband, uncle, and the related children are all with Lori, he couldn't imagine she would be far. She's sitting on the bed of the young Latino spy, holding the young man's hands and speaking softly in Spanish. As he watches, she removes a saint's medal from around her neck, fastening it in place carefully above the bandages that cover Daniel's entire torso.

He waits, unwilling to interrupt whatever comfort she's bringing to the tortured man, moving forward only when she stands with a reassuring pat to the shoulder of the man ensconced in the visitor's chair next to Daniel's bed. He joins her at the foot of Jasper Dixon's bed, but can't speak initially.

"Are you checking on my little brother, Father?" she asks. The teenager is asleep, body positioned to ease pressure on his wounds, cuddled into his bedmate's side despite being nearly a foot taller and the head of the bed elevated.

The other man's not even showing any signs of drowsiness, and Gabriel's familiar enough with armed people by now to recognize the knife at his waist and boot as well-used. He's probably got a gun somewhere on his person too, if he's trusted this close to one of the youngest Dixons. Gabriel only vaguely recognizes him as one of the Virginia visitors.

"I should be, but I was looking for you, specifically."

She looks directly at him then, and he holds off the flinch. He's counseled enough veterans to recognize the edge of darkness the Marine is striding tonight. Unlike so many of those men, he knows she has a support system to draw her back from that yawning abyss.

"I would like to be trained."

He doesn't need to specify anything beyond that, not to this woman. He knows she opposed the idea that he refused to even learn how to kill walkers. Icy blue eyes study him closely, but whatever she's looking for, she finds, because she nods.

"I will not go easy on you."

"I hope not." He takes a deep breath, tearing his gaze away from hers to the wounded boy on the bed. "I watched helplessly today while he saved others. He killed a man with his bare hands to save his aunt and then lay on top of her knowing he might die doing so."

He takes a deep breath, remembering the feel of the unfamiliar weapon and trying to distract the sniper he had no hope of actually stopping, unskilled as he is. "God could send me no more clear message of my own cowardice if he carved it into my bare skin."

"No, he could not." She reaches out, gently circling her brother's ankle through the sheet in a loose grip. "I want you to come with my team tomorrow to Woodbury. It may help them to understand to have a priest testify to the atrocities their militia committed."

"I am willing."

She nods, seeming to dismiss him, unhooking a radio from her belt and offering it to Jasper's guardian. "Jesus, if anything changes with him in the night, I need to know."

The dark-clothed man accepts the radio, obviously familiar with its workings as he clips it next to the knife on his belt. "I suspect your father will be the first to know, though."

Scout and Gabriel both turn to see that Merle's entered the ward, stopping first at the bedside where Tara and Cricket are lying together, hands linked across their growing child. The Marine moves toward the others of her family, dismissing Gabriel from her mind without any further conversation.

"You sure you're up for what you just signed up for, Father?" the man Scout called Jesus asks. He looks somewhere between amused and disbelieving. Gabriel supposes if the man's hair was down, with the beard and coloring, he does resemble the commonly accepted, erroneous portrayal of Christ.

"I will find a way to endure." He looks to the sleeping teenager. "Have you ever looked into someone's eyes and known they would die rather than fail their duty to those they loved?"

"A few times," the man admits. "Since the world ended."

"I saw that today. He could not have truly known his armor would hold, but he held his resolve. I crouched behind a damn barn full of rabbits and watched him cry as he did it. But even that wasn't for himself."

Gabriel's hands shake and he grips the end of the bed for support. Jesus waits patiently for him to continue, but his arm around Jasper tightens. "When Eugene knocked that sniper out of the hayloft, I was the first to them. He was wounded and in pain, but he begged me to help her, not him."

"It is simply who he is." Jesus looks down the aisle toward the other Dixons. "Who they all are, really. It's infectious, you know."

"For he is the minister of God to thee for good. But if thou do that which is evil, be afraid; for he beareth not the sword in vain: for he is the minister of God, a revenger to execute wrath upon him that doeth evil." His words draw the younger man's attention back and he smiles without any joy. "Romans 13:4. It seems… appropriate."

"I suppose it is." Jazz stirs, caught in some nightmare, but calms as Jesus runs a gentle hand down his shoulder. "What words would you have for him?"

"The night is far spent, the day is at hand: let us therefore cast off the works of darkness, and let us put on the armour of light. Also from the thirteenth chapter of Romans."

"Right after a line about loving thy neighbor as thyself." Merle Dixon's gruff voice nearly startles Gabriel, since he didn't see him approach, intent on the discussion with Jesus. "My daughter says you were there today."

"Yes." What else do you say to a man whose child nearly died while you watched like a coward?

"What the hell actually happened?"

Gabriel explains, keeping his voice steady as he details everything of his day that involved anything Dixon, from being muscle to Carol's medic to the terror near the barn to playing fetch for frantic medical staff as they worked.

Merle takes a deep breath, stepping in to carefully brush fingers through the unruly curls on his son's head. "Thank you, Father Gabriel."

"For what?"

"You could have stayed hidden in fear and inexperience, but you didn't. You could have stayed with the elderly or inside the hospital." Merle's expression is kinder than Gabriel deserves when he looks away from Jasper. "There's a reason for the wealth of quotes about fear and courage, påle'."

"Courage is armor

A blind man wears;

That calloused scar

Of outlived despairs;

Courage is Fear

That has said its prayers."

It takes Gabriel a minute to comprehend that Jesus is quoting a poem, and the man just shrugs a little when he and Merle look his way. "Seems fitting, for today." He laughs softly. "And I know far more literature than Bible verses."

The casual acceptance that what little he did today was worthwhile settles something restless within him. He bids them good night and moves to where he sees Dale is awake. Comforting those in the hospital is his best area of expertise, so tonight, he'll put that to use.

Tomorrow he'll begin to learn the rest he needs to do more than barely survive this world.

~*~ Axel ~*~

Axel returns from helping fill up air mattresses for the sixty or so residents that decided to stay within the community center for the night to find Angela has company in their little nest in the far corner. He's seen both Big Tiny and Oscar and knows they're both safe, along with Oscar's family, even if the man's ex-wife is grumpy about being confined to the infirmary for the night due to a wound to her right leg.

He might have expected one of the other Grady ladies to keep an eye on Angela, but instead, they've got all seven of the orphaned kids. Even the toddler is here, tucked in between two of the older kids on an air mattress they've dragged next to the smaller one he chose for Angela. He figures Angela helped them switch to put the larger mattress next to the wall. Most seem to be in an exhausted sleep already.

"Denise wanted to stay close to the infirmary tonight," Angela explains. She's sitting on the edge of their own mattress, rubbing the back of one of the little girls. "And they asked for you."

"Why me?" he asks, confused.

It's Jeff who answers, from the spot he's curled up on a sleeping bag at the foot of the mattress the younger kids are all sharing. "Because you kept Jada safe today."

It doesn't entirely make sense to Axel, because the other children were undoubtedly hustled into safety by other adults. He only had Jeff and Jada, and he's fairly certain Natalie was out among those fighting.

"I didn't even help the fighting."

"No. You didn't leave us. You stood for hours at the door of the root cellar after hiding the girls among the food."

Even his time in prison didn't count as high as the tension of standing there, armed with a handgun alongside two boys who shouldn't be so familiar with weapons themselves. But that's why it doesn't feel extraordinary… the teenagers were there too.

And he couldn't leave them. The root cellar didn't secure from the inside. It was never meant to be a bunker, not like the storm shelters. If any of the attackers found the root cellar, he and the boys were the only protection those four little girls had.

But the gratitude extending once they're back among everyone else? That's just not something he's used to, so he nods, which seems to satisfy the teenager. Jeff settles down to sleep back to back with Natalie.

It's one of the heartaches to realize the younger children are set up to sleep with the older ones protectively between them and the door. Then again, his own sleeping place is also set up to insulate them against the world.

He gives Angela a confused smile as he joins her. Her own return smile is that damned sweet one that makes him melt everytime he sees it.

"You should get used to gratitude, honey," she says. "Because Jeff trusting you to help protect his little family isn't going to be the first. Maria just hasn't tracked you down yet, and what do you think Jacqui's gonna do when Jim's out of the hospital?"

He'd finally remembered who the other girl was down in the root cellar, remembering Maria often left her ten-year-old daughter with Jim's girls if she was off property and school was out.

"I didn't do anything special," he says quietly.

She kisses him, cupping his face between her hands and smiling brightly when she finally lets him breath again. "Oh, Axel, that's why these children trust you. One day you'll understand just how special what you did was."

"If you say so." He lets her pull him close, but settles so that he has his head on her shoulder, listening to the strong, regular beat of her heart. Her belly's still showing no signs of the pregnancy, but he's selfishly glad she stayed in the shelter with the elderly and children today.

She tugs his hand to cover her belly, her own resting on top of it. "You're going to learn how to be a father long before these two arrive, you know."

That startles him enough to raise his head to look down where she's smirking at him. Her dark eyes cut toward the five little ones nestled in their safe corner and he decides love has made him lose his mind, because his response is not a no, but "there's seven of them, Angela. _Seven_."

"No one raises children alone here. We'll manage."

He lets his head thump back down, feeling her laugh, just a little, in the movement of her chest. "Always liked baseball."

Angela laughs aloud then, and he smiles through the panic. He supposes nine's not that terrifying, in the end.

~*~ RG ~*~

It's his second shower of the day, but something about the infirmary makes him feel the need to scrub clean. He suspects Denise would pose a few comparisons to his own near death experience and waking up in a hospital full of the dead.

Part of him wanted to stay overnight there, to keep an eye on Lori and Carl and the rest of the family that's his, even if mostly indirectly. But logic won over emotion, knowing it was crowded enough. Whether they return to Woodbury tomorrow or the next day, the best thing he can do for everyone is to actually get good rest and be at his best at Shane's side.

The phantom twinge in his ribs as he steps out of the tiny shower makes him frown after drying his hair, touching the still prominent scar. Lori's will be worse, he suspects. Based on the bandaging he saw, they all but gutted her to save her life.

"You okay?" Rosita asks. She's got that little furrow between her brows she gets when she's worried.

"Yeah." But he understands the concern. He's standing here, dripping and naked, just holding a wounded side long healed. "Just thinking about how I don't know how Lori and Shane didn't lose their minds, back then."

She steps into the small bathroom, not caring that he's still wet from the shower. She places her own hand over the scars he's covering. "They took every day, one at a time, just like we're going to do for Lori."

"That come from experience?" It probably does. He can't fathom much that his feisty partner hasn't managed to do in her life. The stories she tells are far more colorful than his years spent in the same county he was born in, cop or not.

"Lost my brother to a car accident. He fought all the way to the end. Just me and my nephew. I held it together because losing my mind just wasn't an option with Victor needing me."

It's the first real mention of her family she's ever made. With how she's avoided any discussion, he assumed a traumatic loss from virus or walkers like many of the ones who can't speak of their lost loved ones. He knew her parents died before she was out of elementary school, but her brother raised her until she graduated and enlisted.

"How old was Victor?"

"Three when Ray died. That's why I got out of the Army. Compassionate discharge." She reaches for a towel, beginning to slowly dry the moisture off his skin.

He stands still while she completes the job, some instinct telling him she needs to keep her hands busy while she speaks. "He died of the virus early on, before the hospitals were fully overwhelmed. Never even got to bury him."

"Rosita, I'm so sorry." He tugs the towel away and drops it across the toilet, pulling her into his arms. She's teary eyed and stoic, but accepts the comfort.

"He was only seven years old."

Seven, and raised by Rosita longer than his own father, just like Rosita was raised by her older brother. She didn't just lose her nephew, she lost her _child_. Christ Almighty.

"Tell me about him. I want to know everything."

He doesn't get the sleep he intends, but lying in their bed and letting Rosita pour out everything she's held inside about Victor? He only wishes he pushed the subject a little sooner.

After she's fallen asleep on his chest, he lies awake, wondering if she sees the flicker of a little boy's ghost among the children she's accepted wholeheartedly into her life because they're part of his. Does his laughter echo at game nights when she gangs up with the little girls to soundly beat the 'boys' team?

He remembers not knowing where Carl was for a week and it gutted him. But his Rosita? She's been putting one foot in front of another for over a year, not just existing but living and fighting for others to have a good life.

Rick supposes it's the best way to honor her losses.

Thank God there were no new ones today.

~*~ Beth ~*~

"I'll sit with him for a little while so you can sleep, Miss Mary," Beth offers.

The older woman's practically asleep sitting up at Alex's bedside, but she startles awake. "You've got to be just as exhausted as I am, sweetie."

Beth knows she probably looks a little wild, after the day she had. But she's showered and gotten a splinted cast that actually fits her arm, so she knows she can't look all that terrible. "I'm not sure how well I'll sleep."

It was easy, during the heat of battle, to do her best to make sure each bullet hit a target. After? Now she remembers those targets were people. She doesn't really want to sleep, not yet.

"Where's your daddy?" Mary's on her feet now, taking Alex's vitals as if desperate for something to do with her hands. Beth knows the feeling.

"Sleeping in the staff room." Hershel nodded off so smoothly Beth and Maggie almost checked his pulse, until he let out a resounding snore like he only snored when he was truly exhausted. They rolled him to his side so the others too stubborn to go far from patients despite their relief arriving from Virginia could sleep too.

"And your sister?"

"They said Glenn was okay to go home, so they're up at the main house. She's watching Christian and Meghan tonight." At least Patricia did go home, not ready to spend a night away from Matty or her older kids, not after today's events.

It means that no one's told Beth she has to go to bed, and the few adults who might feel responsible for her aren't going to force the issue. When she appeared on the ward, Merle just nodded when she squared her shoulders for an argument about going home.

"It's okay, Mama." They both turn to where Alex is attempting to smile at Mary. "You should get some sleep. I'm not going anywhere."

It's a weak joke as he flexes his remaining arm against the restraint he's wearing on the wrist. To avoid injuring the remainder of the left arm, Jazz and Eugene have a strap across his chest just below the shoulders.

"That's not funny, Alexander Elliot." Mary doesn't sound too upset, though, despite breaking out the extra name.

"It is, just a little bit. C'mere, Mama." Mary leans in close, letting Alex brush a kiss across her cheek. "Go sleep. I'll bet there's even a spot in the staff room."

Beth nods. "There is. And I'll come get you if anything changes."

"She saved my life today. Beth's not going to let that change."

"He saved me," Beth protests. She just provided a little distraction. Alex tackled a walker to get it off Beth. She knows exactly who saved who.

Mary looks back and forth between them and chuckles softly. "You two are gonna argue with me all night if I don't go, aren't you?"

"Yes, ma'am." Beth gives her brightest smile, the one that even her daddy can't resist no matter how sassy she's actually being.

It works on the older woman even better than Hershel or Patricia, because she rises to her feet, tottering a little bit from being so tired. "Don't give the girl any trouble, Alex."

Once Mary's gone through the door that'll lead her to the staff room, Beth turns back to Alex, reaching out to take his hand the best she can with the restraint. "Do you need anything? How's the pain?"

"Got a squeeze button thing around here somewhere for the pain. They've got me on the really good stuff."

She spots the device where his hand would rest against his thigh and feels relieved. As much as she helped here today, the human hospital is not her wheelhouse. She can't begin to imagine being as brave as Jazz was, operating on Alex when there weren't any people doctors available.

It's not just the missing forearm either. She can see the outline of bandages below the sheet around Alex's left thigh and remembers him bleeding on the floor of the barn even before he saved her.

"Do you need anything else?"

"Wouldn't mind something to drink."

She lets his hand go reluctantly to pull his chart. She knows this much about the people side of things. "Says normal diet. What would you like? I know they keep a bunch of drinks in the kitchenette for staff on duty."

"Juice is fine."

She nods and puts the chart back, scampering off to assess what's left after a day of people scavenging the fridge. Spotting the little juice boxes, she grins and grabs two.

"Alright," she says as she steps back to the bed. "Berry or orange tangerine?"

He actually laughs at the sight of the small juice boxes, although that makes him cough just a little. "Damned hard to do that while strapped down."

"Want me to raise the bed?" She reaches out to touch the buckle center of his chest. "Or see if they can take this one off?"

"Beth, no. We can't risk that." The idea alarms him and she can feel his heart rate increase under the edge of her hand.

"It's been hours and you have no fever."

"Not until we're sure. Beyond sure."

She sighs and raises the bed instead, hating the fact that he's got even less mobility than the prisoners. "Which one?" she asks, holding the boxes up again.

"Orange. Gonna miss orange juice when that sort of thing runs out."

She shrugs. "Florida's not impossibly far away. Plus they have some groves in south Georgia. We'll make a trip one day."

"I like your confidence in that."

Beth holds the straw to his lips, letting him drink. "Life's different now, but it's not over. Maybe we don't take road trips as easy as we did before, but our world's not impossibly small." She thought it was, back at the farm when all she knew was the world gone to hell. But all she's seen since is proof of what she says.

He smiles and she reaches up to brush his hair back from his face. It resists her efforts, between natural curl and lack of care since he landed in the hospital bed. "Be right back."

When she returns from the nurse's desk with a comb in her hands, he really does laugh. "Are you honestly going to try to tame my mop?"

"Might as well." His eyes flutter shut as she carefully gets his dark hair actually sorted into something passably nice. It's not as impossible as he implied by asking if she'd tame it.

He leans into her touch when she brushes against him accidentally, though, and in the back of her mind, she remembers Honey explaining her habit of constantly touching Eugene, something she does really with everyone she cares for. Touch starvation. Alex has family, obviously, but they're all at Terminus and he's only visited once since they left months ago.

She wonders when the last time he allowed anyone other than his mother this close. He's young enough it's easy to forget he's a widower, his wife one of the victims at Terminus. She thinks he might actually be Maggie's age. She messes up her work by discarding the comb and gently drawing her fingers through his hair instead.

He never says a word, but she catches the glimmer of tears at the corners of his eyes. Quietly, so she doesn't disturb anyone actually sleeping, she hums, remembering how Honey used to draw her fingers around hair, jaw, and shoulders.

As Alex falls asleep under her touch, it's the first time she understands her father's words that there's more to healing than just the medicine.

~*~ AF ~*~

There's a part of Abraham wondering what the fuck he's doing tonight, being solely in charge of a fragile kid not much out of toddlerhood. But Michonne's staying the night in the infirmary with poor Ana. Normally, Beth would take Andre, but after what that girl's been through today, no one wants to ask.

He's not even in Michonne's cabin, where he usually hangs out with her or the boy. The whole little Dixon Village is dark tonight, no one wanting to put even that much distance between them and the people they could have lost today. His own place is barely big enough for the bed, with nothing for an active three-year-old.

It's why he's sitting at the Dixon kitchen table, next to Andre, who can't settle to sleep. Funny enough, kids aren't all that different. Andre enjoys a cup of warm, honeyed milk the same as either of Abraham's kids did.

"Abe?"

"Yeah, buddy?"

"All the monsters are gone, right?"

If that doesn't just tear the heart right outta the chest, Abraham doesn't know what does. "We checked everywhere, Andre. Your uncle Merle took them all away in the big trucks."

Andre twists, peering toward the front door as if he can see outside, where the semis were moved as far as possible from the central part of Homestead.

"It was scary today. Were you scared?"

He thinks of the fact that the child spent the attack in the bunker below the house, and he's glad of ear infection that kept the little boy so close to safety. He decides being honest about the stark terror he experienced on the frantic drive back, toned down for little ears, is the best thing he can do to soothe him.

"I was real scared, Andre, because I didn't like being so far away."

Andre pushes away his empty cup, crawling into Abraham's lap to half-strangle him with a hug. "From me and Mama and the baby?"

He rubs the boy's back, feeling him relax against him. "From all three of you. Because we're family."

The boy's quiet long enough he's not sure if it's the right answer.

Then softly, "I'm your family?"

Goddammit. Doesn't matter a damn bit what he and Michonne are to each other, does it?

"Yessir, you're my family til the end of all time."

Andre's little arms tighten again. "I love you, Abe."

"Love you too, buddy."

Not a damn witness in sight to watch him cry quiet as he can as the little boy falls asleep in his arms.


	101. Aftermath, Part 7

June 30, 2011

~*~ Jesus ~*~

Merle's been quiet a good while after taking a seat next to Jazz's bed after Gabriel left. He's on the side away from Jesus, so he doesn't have a good view of the man. But he seems content that Jesus is here, so he just stays where him to be..

He's half dozing himself, allowing the luxury of a nap because he isn't the only one guarding Jazz from nightmares right now when Merle clears his throat softly.

"Do you know how long it's been since I saw him let anyone older than he is that close for that long, aside from Honey?"

There's a sorrowful quality to Merle's voice that reminds him of Honey, quietly explaining her brother's sensory issues. Jesus kept it all in mind with his friendship with Jazz, and his willingness to wrap an arm around Jesus's waist today and outright go to sleep on him surprised him. Once the ice packs were removed again, Jazz roused enough to essentially swaddle himself in the sheet against Jesus.

It's something Honey often did for him, burritoing him into a blanket and setting his music. The music part, Jesus witnessed how it soothed Jazz when he's distressed, but the swaddling effect was something kept more private, until that letter. But Honey was never used as a pillow.

"He's hurt." It's the best explanation Jesus can understand. "And scared."

"That's some of it, but not all."

He turns his head to look at Merle. The man's sitting there quietly, expression assessing as he meets Jesus's eyes.

"You care for him."

Jesus nods. This isn't any easier than the conversation with Carol, maybe harder, because with Carol his vague interest was something he didn't expect to be returned.

"And he cares for you."

Thinking of the letter in his pocket, Jesus swallows. "He does."

"It's not an easy path you're going to be taking there, son. You prepared for that?"

In this conversation, he doesn't think Merle's touching on gender or even the age gap. Not when he started it out about the juxtaposition of Jazz's usual discomfort with touch. He reaches into the pocket for the letter and hands it to Merle. He doesn't think Jazz will mind.

Merle unfolds the paper, already softening from being handled by Jesus many times. It doesn't take him long to read it, and he takes care in refolding it before handing it back.

Jesus has the contents memorized, and he knows Enid believes it to be a love letter. In its own way, it is, but it's also an insight into the fears Jazz holds about himself in relating to anyone on an actual relationship basis.

Merle's hand outright shakes as he carefully touches Jazz's hair like he did when he first approached the bed. The surprising part is the big hand moving to land on Jesus's own shoulder for a gentle squeeze.

"I'm still here," Jesus says. "Knowing everything from the letter, and what Honey's cautioned me about, it doesn't change that."

"Most of the therapies he went through, you could see the benefit. But the therapist he saw for social skills therapy cautioned us that all the social cues training can sometimes be a disservice, because it leads people to forget that the differences are there, that they will always be there."

Jesus nods. He's not sure he would have clued in on the issue without Honey's nudge and Jazz's open admission. It's a contrast to Eugene, where you can't but notice the differences.

Jazz often comes across as quiet and introspective, perhaps a bit shy, because of the care he takes in speaking at most times. Secure in Jesus's little trailer up north, once he was confident that he didn't have to constantly monitor his phrasing, he's nearly as gregarious as Honey.

"It's a camouflage," he notes. He's tried to imagine keeping a running tally of social cues that most people collect and use without conscious thought, and it's made him wonder sometimes how Jazz isn't completely exhausted at the end of each day. Where most people go through their day instinctively or impulsively, he has a constant script running in his head if people are involved.

But isn't that exactly what him finding the 'hiding' spot on Jesus's couch and plugging his music in was all about?

"It is exactly a camouflage. It's not easy to realize that just touching him can cause pain, especially if he's not anticipating it. It could lessen over time, or it could stay the same. He's got so little to compare it to right now."

As the letter said, sometimes Jazz just wants to crawl completely out of his skin, because a casual touch feels like he's been burned if he's already having sensory issues. Out of all of his senses, the sense of touch is the one that overloads most often, followed by sound.

The part that really got to Jesus was about why kids are easier than adults:_ If you tell a kid it hurts when they touch you, they don't look at you like you're crazy or lying. They apologize and stop doing it._

It's the irony that by Jazz's own assessment, the ones who demand the least usually end up the easiest on his touch aversion. The babies he avoided holding, just in case? Even when he's fully overloaded, holding Judith works better than any other soothing method he's tried.

"It isn't the easiest path, but it's the most worthwhile one."

Merle smiles at that, but tilts his head for a moment, studying Jazz. "It's your heartbeat."

When Jesus really pays attention to why Jazz is so close, it clicks for him too. It was pure luck that today's shirt was a soft henley similar to what Jazz wears himself. With Jazz's injured right cheek and leg, he's resting right over Jesus's heart in sleeping on his chest.

"Huh. I wonder if he got the idea from Judith being born early?" Jesus wonders.

"It would make sense on why he might test it out. I'm just glad it works, at least so far. He isn't likely to reconcile today as easily as most."

Considering what the priest witnessed, Jesus himself might have a nightmare or two. Maybe not from the fighting, but from performing an amputation or dressing burns when he knows Jazz has issues about his sister still.

"I can stay indefinitely," he offers. "Harlan and the others will need to head back after a week."

"You'd make my family pretty overjoyed if you did. I'd like to ask you a favor while you're here though, considering the subject matter of that letter?"

"Sure." He can't see this leading to anything he wouldn't agree to.

"While you're here, meet with Denise."

"With or without Jasper?" He knows Jazz keeps a regular schedule with the psychiatrist.

"Wouldn't hurt to do both. Even if all it ever becomes is friendship, having someone else he trusts that's well educated is something he needs. Got a few books, if you want to borrow them."

"I would appreciate the loan." Getting information that's neutral and professional would be a good thing. All he knows now just makes him fiercely protective of Jazz, and that needs to balance out.

Merle leans back in his chair. "Get some sleep, Paul. I'll wake you for an early watch."

He hears his given name so rarely now, pretty much only from Jazz. It's kind of nice not to have the distance of the nickname.

~*~ Ezekiel ~*~

"How is your father doing?"

Andrea jumps at the sound of his voice, so he gives her an apologetic smile. He waited to speak with her until her sister left, drawn away to get some rest by her husband.

"As well as can be expected, considering his age and injuries." She reaches out and settles the sheet just a little differently against the wounded man's chest.

"That is good to hear. I am told he held position until the last minute." Dale's injured partner certainly was happy to share that before she was discharged home.

"There were children still running for cover and people who needed warning. He would have stayed even if he knew they were drawing fire."

She brushes back hair from one side of Dale's face. The other side is bandaged, and several places Ezekiel can see are either bandaged or show signs of the scrapes from impact with the ground. His leg is elevated, wrapped in a post-surgical split.

Before he can reply, she speaks again. "He's not my father. Dale rescued me and Amy when we were stranded outside Atlanta. He's looked after us ever since, even though we're grown women."

"That sounds like a father to me." She looks up, frowning, but it subsides when he smiles. "There's no limits on that sort of love. I doubt your own father would begrudge someone else keeping you safe when he cannot."

Andrea sighs softly. "He wouldn't. He and Dale would be two peas in a pod if they ever met."

"So much the better."

"Ezekiel, I'm sorry."

"For what?" He's genuinely baffled as to why she would need to apologise.

"For the uncertainty." She waves a hand randomly over her middle and he nods in understanding.

"You are not solely responsible for the existence of the little one." He's been a grown man long enough to know that birth control is never fool proof, and it isn't like he doesn't have access to condoms.

He allowed himself the luxury of being incautious with a beautiful woman in his bed, reveling in the novelty of someone who didn't need his leadership.

"No, but I am responsible for the fact that you don't know if the baby is yours or not."

"Still, it is nothing to apologise to me for. And to be entirely honest with you, knowing for certain would not matter to me."

That earns him a sharp, assessing look that reminds him Andrea was a skilled lawyer in the world before. But she smiles at last. "Even if you spent the next few decades explaining your blond-haired, blue-eyed son?"

"Even then. If the other father does not want to be involved, I would raise the baby regardless of any blood we might share." He indicates Dale. "The lesson I've learned since the world ended is that blood is never necessary to create a family."

"Jerry would make a fantastic uncle."

Ezekiel laughs, keeping the sound soft. "I suspect if the little one does not come to live with us, Jerry will be auditioning women for the role of queen simply to obtain a niece or nephew to spoil."

Andrea smirks. "You could simply remind him he's capable of producing his own children."

"A kingdom full of small Jerrys would certainly be a sight to see." It is a future he would love to live in.

"I feel the same about my sister."

"How far along is she?"

"Seven months. She's due in September."

"And how does she feel about you not keeping the baby?"

"Sad sometimes, but she understands. She'll want to meet you, while you're here. And Harlan too."

Ah. So, that's the other possible father. It's not entirely unexpected, as he couldn't picture many of the single men at Hilltop appealing to her. Perhaps on the trip home, he and Harlan can ride together and come to terms with their shared potential fatherhood.

"I would be delighted to meet with your family."

That pleases her, and she falls silent, watching the numbers on the machinery. Dale's vitals are strong, from everything Ezekiel can remember of the baselines.

"Do you have somewhere to sleep tonight?"

That startles him just a little. "I was given a key to an apartment and directions." He fishes the lanyard out of his pocket and hands it to her.

She turns it to look at the little plastic tab and laughs. "Did Carol give you this?"

"Yes. Is there a problem?"

Andrea shakes her head. "I'll show you where it is. Dale will have my hide if he wakes up to find me sleeping in a chair here."

He waits as she bids Merle goodbye and tells the nurse from Solomons she's going for the night. He follows her outside into the dark, noting the gun she still wears holstered. It's not pitch black, not with low-key lighting around the buildings, despite the barest sliver of moon overhead.

"You fought today, didn't you?"

"On the further property, yes."

Even with body armor, it was a dangerous choice, but he understands. People were invading her home and threatening her family and friends.

"I regret we could only provide support after the fact."

"That's every bit as needed. I think all of our medical people were about to drop where they stood when you arrived."

They've reached the little village Carol pointed out to him after a stop to grab his duffel from the vehicle. The containers are barely recognizable as such, with their cheerful paint, porches, and wide variety of plant life. Andrea makes her way past the first couple of buildings to a ground level door.

"That'll be yours over there," she says, pointing to the entrance next door as she opens hers using a key from a lanyard similar to his own.

"Thank you. I would not have wanted to disturb someone by finding the wrong door."

"I imagine they would understand, even if a good number are sleeping in the center tonight."

He supposes he understands that need not to be alone, even as cozy as housing is here. He's got the key in the lock when Andrea calls his name.

"Would it make things harder if I asked you to stay with me tonight?"

She's not looking his way, shoulders slumped just enough to remind him just how bad her day was.

It isn't like reviving a relationship temporarily. The two nights they shared a bed at the Kingdom were just a mutual need answered. He suspects what she's asking has little to do with sex and a lot to do with not being alone in the dark.

That makes the answer easy.

"It would not make anything hard at all." He relocks the door and tucks his key away, wondering if Carol gave him this particular apartment for exactly this reason. The woman is almost preternaturally intuitive sometimes.

He follows her into the small unit, marveling at the privacy it allows over the dormitories his people use. She's adapted the small space by using a futon, but she motions to the chair even as she drops the futon flat with practiced ease.

"First dibs on the bathroom. Got a bladder the size of a pea already."

Once she's disappeared into the tiny bathroom, he sets the duffel down and sheds weapons and outerwear, digging out sleep pants and a soft T-shirt. He's changed before she returns.

The clothes she wore earlier kept her expanded waistline mostly hidden, but in the oversized shirt and shorts, she's unmistakably pregnant.

He swallows hard at the visual. It's proof in a way hearing her solemn explanation over the radio was not.

"He's moving a lot tonight, if you want to feel."

He can actually see the evidence of that as her shirt twitches. When he hesitates to actually touch, she rolls her eyes and puts his hand right over the movement. There's an almost immediate response, a tiny thump against his palm.

"Amazing." He knows his smile is probably somewhere between awed and goofy.

"In its way, yeah. From my side of things, it's more like Maggie says… feels like I swallowed a squirrel."

He can't help laughing at the exasperation in her voice, and even if the child turns out to be Harlan's, he's very grateful that someone not comfortable with being pregnant is going through it anyway.

He retracts his hand reluctantly so that she can get into bed. After his own trip by the bathroom, he settles in next to her after switching off the light. For a futon, the bed is actually quite comfortable, but snug for two adults.

"I won't bite, you know."

He can't resist. "I seem to recall otherwise."

It makes her laugh, and he chuckles, and the discomfort of being so close fades. He pulls her in, remembering she liked using him for a pillow before. She settles easily, falling asleep within minutes.

He enjoys the closeness for a while longer. Maybe Jerry has the right idea about the Kingdom needing a queen.

~*~ Tim ~*~

Tim knows Christopher is beyond exhausted when he doesn't protest being led away from the infirmary once the Virginians are briefed on all the patients. If they hadn't come, he supposes his fiance would be curling up in the staff room right now, no matter how much Tim cajoled him home.

He gets them through the door of their little apartment, glad they both turned in the keys to the even smaller ones they had separately for one with an actual bathroom. Christopher only half helps him strip away his scrubs, allowing Tim to propel him under the warm shower water.

The damn shower is barely big enough, but he sends his own clothes to join Christopher's. He pulls the nurse away from the spray to lather his honey blonde curls with shampoo. It lingers beyond simple hygiene when Christopher leans into the touch.

He massages the scalp, taking care to press deeply when he reaches the base of Christopher's skull. Christopher leans his forehead on Tim's shoulder.

"Are you purring?" he asks, feeling a trickle of amusement at the sound. He knows the dark places Christopher's mind can go, and he fears tonight will be one of those nights.

It's not much different than his own darkness, except where his is populated by the lives he's taken, his lover's is haunted by the ones he didn't save.

"Maybe." Christopher ducks his soapy head under the shower. He's actually smiling, just a little. It's that damned I-dare-you one he first flashed Tim back in the early part of December that got this all started between them.

Tim reaches for the bottle of body wash that's got the spicy citrus scent Christopher favors. He needs his lover to smell like himself again, not the sour scent of sweat and blood and bodily fluids. Neither of them need Tim triggered tonight.

Christopher braces himself on the shower walls, relaxing as Tim works the scented body wash into his skin. Tim's own scrub down is faster, rougher, when Christopher takes over, but there's a reward coming after the rush that makes it worthwhile.

Toweling off is a half-assed job interrupted repeatedly by their need to kiss. The caretaking role gets reversed as Christopher pushes him toward their bed. He lands on his back from the gentle push and a grin flickers to life.

"Where's this going tonight, Kit?" It's the only shortening of his name that Christopher tolerates, the diminutive given him by the Dixon girls. Tim likes it well enough, recognizing the daddy issues behind avoiding the more common Chris since he's got enough of that same baggage.

Christopher's smile shifts from mischievous to intense..

_Edited Ao3 scene due to FFnet rating_

He drops his head to Tim's shoulder, pressing small kisses to the smooth skin there. "God, I fucking love you."

Tim slides his hand up to grip the back of Christopher's neck. "I love you, too. What's wrong, Kit?"

This isn't his usual need to lose himself in pleasure to slough off hard emotions of the day. That mutual need got them started, and it's a damn fine coping mechanism, but this is something more.

Christopher doesn't answer, instead pulling away to go fetch a washcloth for them both. Tim stays quiet throughout the carefully gentle cleanup, putting his hard earned sniper's patience to good use.

It pays off once Christopher's back beside him, spooning to his back and holding him as if he's something fragile and precious.

"Half your team was wounded today."

"They're both okay. Glenn didn't even get an overnight." But he understands. It could have easily been him or Honey included, and not all of their people survived today.

"The whole time I was helping in Sam's surgery, all I could think of was that you were on that same field. It could have been you, and he still might not make it, and I'm not as strong as my brother is."

Tim can feel the warmth of tears against the back of his shoulder. He rolls, wrapping himself around Christopher. He tangles his hands into Christopher's hair, tilting his head to angle a kiss.

"It wasn't me, Kit, but if it was, you will be strong and you will stay with your family and they will be strong for you even when you can't be. Because the only thing that scares me about dying is leaving you."

The proposal this morning seems weeks ago, not hours, but he cups Christopher's jaw with his left hand, making sure to stroke the silicone of the ring against his skin.

"We both lived today, babe. We're gonna keep on living our days like they're infinite, because that's how we build what we need to survive when they aren't. Bryce goes on not because he's strong, but because doing anything else means he's not honoring all those good days he had with Nora."

Christopher blinks away the tears, smiling just a little. "That's awfully sage advice."

"I got depths when I need them." He gives in and grins. "And I do a fine job of listening when Hershel speaks."

He's self-aware enough to know that stopping drinking wasn't happening without support. But his drinking worried Christopher, mirroring too much of his long dead father's behavior. If he met the veterinarian years ago, he might have had more than six months sober under his belt.

Christopher sighs softly and turns to kiss the ring on his finger. "I'm guessing Hershel really would know about losing the people he loves better than most."

Tim only nods at that and shuffles enough to find the remote. Maybe he's given up the liquor, and sex helps even more when he's in love with his partner, but some ways of getting through the night with blood on his hands still hold true.

Maybe Christopher's feeling blood on his own hands that came from saving rather than taking, but when he laughs softly when the Smurfs scamper on screen, Tim just smiles.

Christopher isn't his first male lover or even the first he was in love with. But the hot-and-cold shit Raylan pulled, that Tim finally ended when he refused to follow the man to Florida and watch him pine after his ex while sharing Tim's bed, that's got fucking nothing on this.

Saturday, he promises himself. Saturday, they'll stand in front of Hershel whether it's in front of everyone or just the man himself. Their days aren't infinite, but he isn't ever letting Christopher think he wants anything less than every possible second they can have.

_A/N:. Since Tim and Christopher are non-canon ans not all my A/N were brought ovee to FFnet:. Christopher is a pure NPC, a former high school sweetheart to Scout. Tim is quite blatantly stolen from the TV show Justified._


	102. Light

**July 1, 2011**

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol trundles the wagon into the infirmary hallway and parks it outside the hospital ward. It's loaded with meals for the patients and staff, although she figures some of the staff will swap out shifts and get out of the building for a while.

"Mama? Can we take Aunt Lori's food?" Sophia asks. She's shifting anxiously, as she's done ever since they got dressed this morning and made the side trip to the community center.

"I'll help." Logan's already counting out the breakfast containers into Sophia's arms, confident they'll be given permission. "Four, right?"

She confirms the count, knowing that Anaya is staying with Daryl, Abby, and Judith today. Shane and Scout emerged early, grabbing a bite to eat at the community center as they began organizing the trip to Woodbury. Logan grabs bottled drinks and follows.

Beth's smiling brightly when she sees Carol appear with containers, bouncing from the reclining chair she apparently slept in next to Alex to help pass out breakfast.

"Anyone on any special diets?" she asks, noting a few oddities in the wagon.

"Jim and Marguerite are both on clear liquids today, along with Sam if he's awake and aware enough to want to try. Everyone else gets a container and a bottle of water to start with. They can have tea from the kitchenette later."

Beth nods, beginning to pass out meals on the side of the room where Dale is.

That leaves Carol to settle two containers and water bottles on Cricket's tray, nudging her and Tara awake. When they smile at her and wriggle to where they can actually reach the tray, she drops the overbed table into place.

"Maggie will bring Christian over in a little bit. They're at breakfast at the moment." Assessing the fetal monitor shows nothing to be concerned about, not that she expected there would be with Harlan here. "Need any pain meds this morning, Tara?"

She flexes her leg a little and grimaces. "Wouldn't say no to an Aleve."

"I'll bring you some when I make med rounds in a bit."

She sneaks in a hug to Cricket before retrieving the next round of food. She hands off the regular meal to Jacqui when she sets aside the blanket where she's slept in the reclining chair, putting Jim's little containers on the overbed table she slides into place.

"How are you feeling this morning, Jim?"

"Could be better. You seen the girls this morning?" The question's an anxious one as he raises the head of the bed up so he's sitting. He grimaces at the movement, but she's glad to see he doesn't hesitate to activate his PCA.

"They're eating breakfast with Tyreese and Karen and the boys. Karen will bring them over after they're done."

That seems to relieve his anxiety and he fumbles with screw-on lids for the reusable portable bowl, inspecting the pineapple jello inside. "Clear liquids for how long?"

"We're going to go with clear liquids twenty-four hours, then move you to pureed food, mostly bland stuff. After that, we'll see how it goes. Primary issue the doctors want to follow is that they did have to remove a small section of your intestinal tract, so we need to ease it back into working correctly."

Jacqui shifts to study the carton of apple juice and the bottle of water. "How is it all going to work? Is this like when someone has gastric bypass surgery?"

"Along those lines, yes, except once he's healed and his body adjusts, he won't have as many dietary restrictions. I'll bring you one of the textbooks to look over in a little while. But today, just sip any liquids slowly and you'll get about five or six little meals."

"Gonna be a lot of jello then." Jim surprises Carol with a soft smile. "Reminds me of when my oldest son had his tonsils out."

It's the first time Jim's ever mentioned his lost sons, and Carol feels a surge of hope for his continued recovery. "Yeah, so if you don't care for the pineapple, you can have any of the others, yellow or green colors preferably. Popsicles and broth later too, but I figured you wouldn't want broth for breakfast. All the tea you want."

"Sounds workable, and I like pineapple jello and lime too." He looks to where, amazingly, Jazz is actually still asleep against Jesus. "Your other half's in the bathroom, but I'm fine. Go check on your boy."

That earns him a bright smile from Carol as she fetches two containers and drinks. By the time she's returned to Jazz's bedside, Merle's emerging from the bathroom and Jesus already has the overbed table in place. He's nudging Jazz awake, watching fondly as Jazz blinks sleepily before orienting himself.

Carol can tell her son's a little groggy still, because he doesn't notice her as he pokes at Jesus's side. "Gotta pee."

Jesus drops the bed rail and pops to his feet, letting Jazz get up and pass his father on the way to the bathroom. They all share amused smiles. It's unusual for Jazz to be fairly unaware of his surroundings on waking.

"Bringing breakfast, I see," Merle notes, swinging around the bed for a brief kiss. "You did eat first, right?"

She laughs. "Like anyone would let me load up a wagon full of meals without making me eat first. There should be extras for you and the staff if you want to go help yourself." She points to the two on the overbed table. "One of those is yours, Jesus."

The young man thanks her quietly, going through a series of stretches. She figures sleeping half upright as a pillow didn't do wonders for muscles and joints overnight.

Jesus pauses and glances toward the closed bathroom door. "Will he be released today or do you want me to plan on keeping him distracted?"

Carol sighs, just a little. "I would prefer he stay here, because keeping him from wanting to work outside the infirmary is going to be harder than keeping him here. But medically, there's no reason he has to stay."

Technically, she could have taken him home for the night, but she didn't like the idea of being even that small distance away if he needed extra medical care.

"Assign him to infirmary duty for the day," Merle suggests. "Patients in here are less likely to bite or kick and jostle those plates they put in his face yesterday. But keep Jesus around for any heavy lifting."

Since Jesus shrugs agreeably, passing Jazz for the bathroom, Carol ushers her son to take a seat. "Eat your breakfast and I'll send Sophia to bring you a change of clothes. You're my helper in the infirmary today."

He's too old to miss the ulterior motive on that, but he doesn't argue. Beth interrupts with a quiet cough. "Do you think it would be safe to let Alex eat his food or should I feed him?"

Carol turns to look at Alex, who's still clear eyed and showing no signs of fever. She checks his record for the overnight vitals and shows them to Merle.

"I think we'll let you out of the restraints for long enough to eat and clean up a bit, Alex. Get some fresh sheets on the bed. Once all that's done, we can put them back on. That'll save you having to keep the catheter."

She thinks Alex is about to argue - until she mentions the catheter. She figured that would be a tipping point, and if he does start running fever, they can reassess then. Even then, fever could be a reaction to the amputation itself, not from the bite. They're giving him all the leeway possible.

Once he's agreed, Beth releases the restraints after being given one of the odd little lanyard mounted keys that lock everything in place. Alex seems in less pain once he can shift his weight and settles in to eat his breakfast easily.

"Beth, why don't you go ahead and grab one for yourself and eat with him?" Carol didn't miss where Beth spent the night, and she really doesn't want the teenager helping with the remaining awake patients, all prisoners.

The blonde hesitates, but finally nods and goes to fetch her food.

Once Jesus is back, she eyes her other patients. All six of the prisoners are awake and fairly alert, although the one positioned face down due to the nature of his gunshot wound she's having to guess about.

Merle can see where this is going and beats her to the announcement. "Alright. We're going to be giving you folks some benefit of the doubt here, depending on how you behave yourself. Gonna be set free of restraints temporarily. Those who are mobile get the bathroom and a change of clothes, along with a meal and something to drink."

He points at the two women. "Everything we know about both you ladies indicates you thought you were here to do a good deed. Keep behaving yourself, and the restraints don't go back on."

They both nod agreement. Merle steps between the beds, freeing the woman in the chair first. "You're more mobile, so you get first shot at the bathroom. Hot water isn't unlimited, so make your washup quick."

"And don't shower and get bandages wet," Carol adds. "We're going to be changing them after breakfast, but soaking them won't help anything heal."

The young woman flexes the hand on the unwounded side and gets to her feet. "Um… what about clothes?"

Her clothing still bears the stains of yesterday's battle as well as her own blood.

Carol turns, going to go fetch scrubs, but Christopher's just entering the ward. When she asks him to go fetch clothing, towels, and non-skid socks, he nods. By then Haley's already managed to use the bathroom and wash her hands. She takes the items she's given and shuts the door, while Christopher leaves the rest in a pile next to the door.

Merle releases Evelyn with a caution to let Carol assess before she tries to leave the bed. Carol places the container of food on the table and pushes it into place.

"Although you won't be restrained, the burns mean you really won't be mobile just yet. One of us will help you get cleaned up as best you can, but getting out of the bed really isn't on today's plan for you."

"I figured the catheter was probably a sign I wasn't moving anytime soon," Evelyn replies with a wry smile. "Just being able to move a bit is good enough."

"Pain levels good?"

Evelyn nods as Carol checks the chart and PCA. She's got the container open and makes a surprised sound. "Is this fresh fruit?"

"The blueberries and cantaloupe? Yes. The eggs are fresh as well, although not all from chickens. You'll be given a high protein, high calorie diet, among other things, because you need the protein and the calories to heal the burns. Every meal and every snack needs to have protein."

Carol doesn't yet have the heart to tell her it'll take months. Her burns aren't as bad as Scout's, but the second degree burns are deep enough they skirted the line. It won't be an easy recovery, but she's better off than Scout because no joints are directly affected.

The look Evelyn's giving her food reminds Carol of most of the newcomers' amazement at fresh foods instead of boxed or canned goods. "Blueberries I understand as perennials, but cantaloupe? Fresh eggs?" She opens the smaller container inside the big one. "Yogurt?"

"Not everyone runs their communities like your former leader did." She makes sure the others are listening. "We've worked hard to adapt to this world, because relying solely on old world supplies is setting up to fail."

Merle's got the male prisoners' restraints undone around their wrists. She catches his caution to the last of them about this being the only second chance they'll be given. She doesn't miss that none of the ones with ankle restraints are released yet. He's not trusting them that much. Martinez is the only one who's been questioned so far, and the double amputee isn't going anywhere.

Christopher's delivering meals that are opened warily by each of the men. The one called Crowley seems almost childishly gleeful as he takes in a deep breath over the food, even thanking Christopher, who shrugs. It takes some rearranging to get Tim in a position to feed himself, and even a release of one of the ankle restraints. Carol's not sympathetic, not after seeing Noah's poor face.

She's checking Martinez's chart when she realizes the man hasn't started eating yet. "Are you feeling nauseated?"

"A little. I don't like the idea of wasting food."

"It won't go to waste here. How about we try something lighter for now and get you something for the nausea. Christopher?"

He's already headed for the med room. "Scopolamine patch and some protein shakes coming up. I'll do the other meds after."

"What will happen to us? You are using a lot of supplies on us."

"Our council and allies voted to give everyone not actively involved in the atrocities the Governor and teams like the one led by the man you call Reid a second chance. Woodbury can't sustain itself, and we have no wish to support a community so far away."

"What will that mean for them? Most of the people left behind don't have the skills to survive without the militia or the volunteers, and I assume most are dead or captured."

She commends his concern. "We're sending our teams to round up the civilians. We have the ability to house them separately from our own people, and those who were not militia will be released to them as long as our interviews don't determine any questionable activities."

Haley's emerging hesitantly from the bathroom, clad in a set of buttercup yellow scrubs. "Even us?"

"You and Evelyn will be released once your medical needs permit. The other four will be assessed along with the single other remaining militia member."

The young woman nods and slips into her chair, taking in her food quietly as Christopher returns with Martinez's supplies. He's actually carrying two cases of the protein drinks, which Merle takes and starts plunking one on next to everyone's breakfast after leaving two for Martinez.

"Who is the other militia member?" Martinez tilts his head to let Christopher apply the scopolamine patch.

"Shumpert," Merle answers as he returns.

"Use your own best judgement, of course, but he is no Reid. He and I both led teams, but if you ask the survivors, all of them came in from our runs, not Reid's." Martinez frowns. "You told Haley that four of us will be assessed. There are five of us."

Merle turns to where Daniel Navarro is still in a medicated sleep, the only patient not awake and eating in some format. "Just as you spied on us, we spied on Woodbury. Unfortunately, Daniel is paying a very high price for his bravery. Your Governor and Reid's team spent days torturing him."

The Latino man pales, something Carol thought impossible when he already has the pallor from earlier trauma. "Will he live? He was awake, before."

"He'll live. But he'll be staying with his own people and not returning to Woodbury's populace." Carol finishes updating his chart as Edwards and Hershel enter the ward on the other end. "Merle? If you'll check with the other three on who thinks they need the bathroom next?"

Her husband nods and goes to release the ankle restraints on Crowley, the first to finish eating, escorting him to the bathroom and leaning next to the wall.

"Who is the leader here? You mentioned a council."

Carol wonders how much is true curiosity and how much is the man trying to think past the nausea while the patch takes effect. "We are run by a six-person council. Myself, Merle, Hershel."

She pauses and points out the veterinarian. "Plus four others, two of which are our security leaders. They're taking teams to retrieve those left behind at Woodbury today."

"I can see where that's more stable than a single leader."

"For Woodbury to be independent again, you'll be asked to have a similar system of government. We're further allied with four other communities, all of whom sent representatives to last night's meeting regarding Woodbury."

"We'll be independent?" Haley asks, sounding surprised.

"Eventually, yes. Once everyone is capable, we'll set Woodbury up in a sustainable location. It's not the first time we've sponsored another community. Allies are much better than enemies, but there was no alliance possible as long as your Governor led. We've taken in too many of his victims."

"What happened to him? It seemed he was still alive last night."

"He was, although with his wounds, he would have been lucky to last the night without medical care. We elected not to make his execution a public one."

Martinez looks relieved, the two women puzzled but accepting. When Carol turns enough to see the other two men, relief seems to be the theme there too.

"Thank you."

"What for?"

"For doing what I was too much of a coward to do."

She nods in reaction to that and helps him get the protein drink open when he fumbles for it. Christopher's back on the ward with a tray of meds, but more importantly, Jeff is standing at the end of Jazz's bed.

The teenager studies each face carefully, just as he was asked to do. Carol lays a gentle hand on his shoulder, feeling him tremble. He flinches, just a little, when Crowley exits the bathroom.

Jeff stops shaking. "None of them, Mrs. Dixon."

"Thank you, Jeff. We'll take a trip to Terminus to check out the bodies there. From Gareth's description and what the man over there told us, that's the man who led the ones who killed your family and shot Natalie and Jada."

The boy nods, taking one last look at the Woodbury people. To their credit, none interrupt his staring, although Crowley ducks his head under the intensity.

"I'm going to tell the girls." He's gone quickly.

"What happened to his family?" Martinez looks haunted. All of them do by the time she finishes the tale of the children.

She's hopeful at this point they won't need any more executions. Woodbury is going to need all the people it can keep in order to survive. They won't have the same drive to succeed that Terminus came out of their nightmare with.

~*~ SW ~*~

When they return to Woodbury, this time they approach the gates. They aren't entirely alone for the trip, because Shane appropriated young Jody and Shumpert out of lockup to serve as witnesses to the attack on Homestead.

The kid's grateful in that way that warns him there's probably hero worship in the future, although he isn't sure if it'll be focused on him or Scout. Jody hops out of the Humvee's passenger seat without being prompted, greeting the gate guards.

"They're the good guys," Jody begins, just as Shane sees Dr. Stevens appear alongside the guards, who aren't the same ones from yesterday.

"You don't need to attest to that to me, young man. It's good to see you've survived your adventure," she calls down. "Open the gates."

They've brought twelve teams, not willing to be outnumbered by the potentially capable adults here. But that only required six Humvees, so they're inside and parked on one of the streets quickly.

"I sent out word for everyone to gather when we spotted your vehicles. It shouldn't take long for everyone to gather there." She points to the open grassy area.

"I'm assuming you're in charge at this point?" Scout asks.

Dr. Stevens nods. "Milton doesn't really have the backbone for it. Is he gone, for good, the Governor?"

"Dead and buried with the walking dead he unleashed on our people."

The doctor only looks partly surprised. "How did your people weather the attack?"

"Six dead, perhaps a dozen injured. One is still critical."

Shane lets the conversation fade into the background with Rick beside him. They're both scanning the gathering people with all the instincts honed by years as deputies. Nothing is standing out, so far. Seeing Daniel after his torture may have provided the starting point for them to doubt their leader.

Dr. Stevens steps forward to speak, holding out both hands. "The man we knew as the Governor is no more. He perished in the attempt to take these people's home from them."

She fields questions expertly, giving out the poor survival news for those who went north.

"Did you really attack women and children, Shumpert?" someone calls out.

"If he were an honest man, he would have called off the attack when the people appearing were all women and children. Instead, he ordered the attack to continue," Shumpert explains.

Jody steps to the man's side. "I ran, when it was kids my age trying to cover for smaller kids to get to safety. I didn't know there were biters in the trailers that came with us."

There's a lot of grumbling at that.

"They let me surrender, two pregnant women trying to get to the infirmary to take care of their wounded."

Father Gabriel's clerical dress draws attention, just as Scout wanted. When the man begins the tale of the day before from the viewpoint of the frantic Homesteaders, everyone listens.

"Why would he attack such a large settlement?"

Shumpert answers. "For their supplies and their fields. Because Woodbury can't survive once the supplies we can raid run out, and a man like the Governor isn't willing to share or find allies."

He looks at the crowd. "Think about it, really hard. Did you ever see Reid's group bring in any survivors?"

The murmurs through the crowd show a shift from questioning to horrorified understanding.

"Milton."

The meek scientist steps forward at Dr. Stevens prompting. "I've known the Governor a long time, and the man I grew up with didn't survive losing his family. He's obsessed with finding a cure, and he knew supplies were limited. If Shumpert thinks he was after these people's food and supplies, he's telling the truth."

"Are we really that close to running out?"

A woman moves out of the crowd. "The canned goods won't last indefinitely in the summer and winter cycles. They're going to spoil eventually, and the supply runners are having to go further each trip and risk more."

"How long?"

"If we're lucky, another year, without serious crops of our own. And now most of our supply teams are gone."

Father Gabriel raises his hands as the panic sets in. "The people of Woodbury are not responsible for the crimes of the leadership. Homestead has the room, the supplies, and the ability to train you for life in this world."

As the mood shifts around the priest, Shane has to admire his gift for spinning the impending disaster that faces Woodbury into something positive for everyone.

He moves away from Rick to brush against Scout. She curls her fingers against his palm, still looking uneasy.

"I don't think we've found the worst of his depravity yet."

Shane looks around. Whatever has Scout off-center isn't obvious in the little oasis of a town. They'll have to dig to know they've lanced all the poison the Governor left behind.

"Let's start with Milton. Something tells me he's privy to all the dark secrets."

She nods and they summon their personal teams, leaving the rest as a support for Father Gabriel.

It's time to bring everything to light.

_A/N: As I outline the sequel, it occurs to me that readers at FFnet may be unaware than in Part Two, Negan will not get a redemption story like the show or comics. While I delayed the Saviors appearing in Virginia for the sake of the sequel, it will be a darker storyline than the ones seen in Part One. We're still 100k or so from finishing this one, but I'm happy to answer questions on Part Two via PM if you're concerned._


	103. Penny

**July 1, 2011**

~*~ Shane ~*~

"Sweet merciful Jesus."

When the scene before them is so dark and twisted that even Abraham can't come up with anything more colorful than that, Shane knows they've really gone down the rabbit hole here.

Milton led them into the house that the Governor occupied, a three bedroom home that probably housed a typical Georgia family before the world ended. The shock factor isn't really the pretty furnishings, complete down to little doilies on the end tables, in the public rooms. Shane's used to dark things happening in places that look like something out of Perfect Family Magazine.

It's just how bad the secret behind the master bedroom door really is.

He thought over a decade as a deputy prepared him. If that hadn't, then the past year surely did, right?

No, it did not, and he's not entirely sure they've seen the worst of it. If Philip Blake kept fish tanks full of animated heads in the room he sleeps in, what in the hell will they find if they explore the damned basement or the two upstairs bedrooms? There's even a side table by a leather chair with a bottle of high-end whisky and a snifter, as if the man sat and watched the heads as a sort of evening entertainment.

"Abraham, have your team search this room," Scout orders. "Find any evidence beyond those heads that adds to what he's done. I think the heads are probably enough for the average Woodbury citizen, but if we can find other places they've taken, we can lay the dead to rest like we did from the other journal."

Abraham's got two Grady cops on his team, so Shane's fully confident in them finding anything kept in the private quarters.

Back in the hallway, he eyes the stairs up versus the door he knows from this particular housing layout will lead to a basement. "Up or down?"

Scout eyes Milton instead.

The man hunches in on himself, but answers the unspoken question. "I think you will find atrocities of differing natures either direction."

"You take the upstairs and my team will take the basement," Scout suggests.

He nods and gestures toward Milton. "Who keeps him?"

"Please don't make me go downstairs."

The man seems genuinely terrified of the basement, which makes Shane uneasy about splitting up. Scout's already unlocking the door using the keys Milton gave them for the house, so he doesn't argue it.

Her team disappears down the stairs, and when there's no commotion, he leads his team up the brightly lit staircase in the foyer. Milton wedges in the middle of their formation.

The landing's a typical one, a wide area with three doors. Shane would guess bedrooms to either side, with a bathroom in the middle. The bathroom's easy enough to identify because the door's actually open. White tile shines with a level of clean that indicates either it's never used or the Governor was a germaphobe on top of everything else.

"Bedroom to the right is the one he used for entertaining," Milton mumbles softly.

The odd emphasis on entertaining takes a minute to click for Shane. But it makes sense that a man with a public image to keep wouldn't bring a lover home to that master bedroom downstairs. T-Dog and Danny clear the room easily.

It's exactly what Milton says it is. Big four poster bed with delicate bedside lamps that Shane doubts were chosen by the monster who lived here. More likely a guest room for the former occupants.

"We going to have any distraught ladies protesting he's gone?" he asks.

"The only one who might was with him when he attacked your settlement. Her name wasn't among the survivors you listed."

Shane wonders if that's the woman who died by the Governor's own hand and later bit Alex. The odds favor it.

"What about the other room?"

Milton's expression shifts into one of mourning. "It is a duty I keep failing to carry out."

The door's locked, but Milton produces a pair of keys separate from the keychain he gave Scout. He hands them off to Shane, looking distraught in a way he hasn't before.

"Philip wasn't always a monster."

Shane unlocks the door and gets into position to clear the room. Just because Milton seems to be being honest, doesn't mean he's stupid enough to blindly trust a man from the inner circle of of a psychopath.

The room is bright and sunny, painted in pastel colors that wouldn't be out of place in an advertisement for children's furnishings. The center of the room holds a white canopy bed with gauzy hangings in purple and pink. Shelves hold books and toys, all the things he would expect to see in a young girl's room.

Unicorns. Barbies. Hello Kitty plushies. A Cabbage Patch kid on the bed.

Like his own daughter's room, although with a different color scheme.

Fuck.

"No one mentioned a child."

Milton rubs at his face under the glasses. "They think she's dead, so no one speaks of her to spare his feelings."

Jesus Christ, please don't let there be a child confined here. He's not really sure he can handle that level of human psychopathy today.

"Where is she?"

The man points toward the single closed door, likely the closet. Rick follows Shane into the room. Before Shane can test the knob, Milton cries out.

"Deputy Walsh!"

It's the note of warning that draws Shane's attention.

"It would be better if I said Woodbury thinks she's dead and buried. She is dead."

He thinks he's prepared for what that might mean, but when the door opens to reveal a heavy duty mesh inner door covering the large walk-in closet, he isn't.

He isn't the only one to make a distressed noise when the girl shuffles into sight. Her arms are bound around her body, and she's chained to the wall somehow. With her head covered, the only real indication she's dangerous is Milton's warning.

She's fully dressed in neat, clean clothes. They're too clean to be something she's worn a long time, he thinks distractedly. The leggings are color-coordinated with the delicate dress, and a pretty pastel cardigan hides any sign of her condition. Her small feet are clad in little white leather shoes like she's off to church.

"Oh, Penny."

There's too much emotion in the man's voice to not have known this child before her death.

"Is she his daughter?"

Milton nods, stepping into the room at last. "She wasn't bitten, but killed by some residents we made a mistake in allowing in. When she turned anyway, he didn't give up hope that not being bitten meant she could be cured."

"Your experiments." Rick sounds stuck between horrified and sympathetic.

"All of them. Months of failures, gaining a little more information, but never anything that revealed there was a spark of life left in her. But Philip was convinced otherwise."

Milton's reached the wire door that cages the girl into the closet now. It gives Shane time to assess the little room itself, and the soundproofing that's been added. No wonder the Governor could have lovers right down the hall and them never know anything. With her tragic death, he probably didn't even have to lock the door.

"She was my niece, my sister's only child, and I allowed her to be kept like this, knowing it was futile." He's weeping now, and Shane can't blame him.

"You can end it now. She's probably not suffering, but she's not at peace, either," Rick says. His voice cracks in the middle of the statement. "Or we can do that for you."

Shane isn't really sure he could actually do that, not with his mind flashing comparisons to Anaya and Abby and Sophia like a goddamn strobe in his brain. He's just thankful Judith's too small for the comparison to take hold.

"No. I failed her for months."

When Shane unlocks the security door, Milton swings it open. He enters the closet as if he is marching to his own death. Perhaps, in a way, he is.

He's gentle when he tugs the covering off the girl's head. There's no hiding what she is now, but the bow that matches her little dress wrenches something inside Shane and he wants to vomit.

"Here."

Milton looks back and accepts the knife Shane holds. It's a smaller one than the big hunting knife, a pocket knife he keeps for jobs that need finesse instead of brute force. He won't miss it.

Shane clears his throat, trying to advise the man. He knows from the 'laboratory' the man has that he has experience putting down walkers, but this is the stuff of the ultimate nightmares if not done right.

"If you step behind her, you can tuck her head against you. The temple's the softest point when she's been gone as long as she has."

And it won't damage the little girl more than the disease that reanimated her already has.

Milton struggles a bit to get into position, but she's too small and too restrained to really get at him to bite him. He sobs openly, apologizing to the girl, and then she goes still.

~*~ Scout ~*~

Scout opts to flip the light switch at the foot of the stairs, willing to give up any element of surprise for the added safety for the men behind her.

It triggers shuffling and moaning in the far corner of the basement, along a line of kennels like she would expect to see in a veterinarian's office or a boarding facility.

Behind her, she can hear Alvaro Morales praying softly, almost inaudibly. It makes her want to reach for a rosary herself.

"Weapons out and on guard. With this bastard, it may not all be walkers down here." The access down the middle is wide enough. A glance to Carlos show's he's tense but awaiting her orders. Casey Tanaka looks like he's close to breaking, but she's seen him endure worse scenarios. "Carlos, you and Casey take the left row. Alvaro and I will take the right."

Carlos nods, padding near silently toward the left side of the underground room with Casey on his heels.

The first kennel is empty, but there's signs of prior occupation in smears of blood on the metal side walls. The second and third are in similar condition, and Carlos is calling out similar finds on the opposite side.

"Got a walker in this one," he calls when he reaches the fourth. "Fifth is empty."

She spares a glance across the aisle to verify what he's saying. The man's naked, his body showing signs of torture. With very little decay, he's not been turned long.

"Put him at rest," she orders. Casey rattles the kennel door, while Carlos embeds his knife in the man's eye with ease of long practice.

"Scout. She's alive."

Alvaro's at the last kennel on their side, fumbling with the door. It's locked, foiling his efforts. The woman inside is as naked as the male walker, but she's curled up on the elevated mesh dog bed at the rear of the kennel. In the fluorescent lighting of the basement, it's easy to see her eyes are clear of the milky film of the dead.

"Carlos! Give me your axe."

The man's at her side, looking as horrified as she and Alvaro are. She chops at the aluminum latching behind the combination lock with the survival axe. It'll ruin the blade, but it's replaceable. The lock clatters to the floor when its supports fall free under her blows.

Alvaro starts into the kennel, but the woman's instant reaction to press against the back wall, chanting, "No, no, no" has him halting. He stumbles backwards, making the connection as quickly as Scout does.

She kneels in front of the dog bed on the filthy floor, making her posture as unthreatening as possible.

"The Governor is dead." If this were Scout, trapped in a hell on earth like this, that's what she would need to know.

The woman blinks rapidly, strands of hair falling into her face. It's so dirty Scout isn't sure what color it actually is. "How?"

"He attacked my people and lost."

"You're sure he's dead?"

"I slit his throat myself." Scout's glad now, that the man was left to suffer his wounds. He didn't die quickly or easily, not even when Scout executed him, no more than Ed did.

"Here. She needs something to drink." Casey's passing his silicone collapsible cup into the kennel, full of water.

"Is that from here?" The woman's eyeing the cup with a wariness that makes Scout rage internally at the dead man.

"No," Casey says from where he's backed off into the aisle. "I took it from my own water supply."

"He drugs the water sometimes," the woman mumbles.

Scout meets her eyes steadily as she takes a deep drink from the cup. The woman scrambles upright, keeping her knees tucked defensively against her body. She takes the cup and sips carefully.

"Carlos? I need you and Casey to go find the doctor. Have her meet us at their infirmary." Scout retrieves the silver emergency blanket from her vest pouch and lays it beside the woman.

"My name is Staff Sergeant Scout Walsh, ma'am. My people came here today to take those innocent of the Governor's crimes to a safer place." She motions toward Alvaro. "Alvaro Morales. He's not a Marine, but he's been at my side a long time in this awful world. I give you my word that he'll do you no harm."

"And if he tried?"

"She would kill me herself," Alvaro says softly, but confidently. "As would my wife and my own little daughter."

"Will you let us help you get out of here? I could call the doctor here, but I don't think you want to be in this house a second longer than you have to."

"I'm not sure I can walk."

"That's okay. We'll make the blanket into a stretcher. Alvaro can give me his blanket to use as a covering."

She's finished the water and finally unfolds from her protective position. "My name is Martina."

"Martina, let's get you out of here. Before we leave this town, you can watch me burn it to the ground."

Something about that strikes the right chord with the woman. Her expression is more grimace than smile, but Scout will hold that promise.

This house of horrors that provided a den for a monster beyond anything she's ever seen will harbor no more terrors ever again.

~*~ Carol ~*~

It's dusk when Carol's summoned down to the expansion. She's got the company of the entire council as she rides along in the pickup, crunching across the gravel. Both the Eldridge farm and the expansion show no signs of the trauma that befell the property yesterday. If she were still the old Carol, Ed's victim, she would even be able to pretend nothing bad was out in the world.

Another truck follows behind them, the big stakebed laden with camping gear and the evening meal for their newest residents.

Five of the Humvees are pulled enough to the side to let the truck pass, and Merle pulls to a stop in front of the first of the two Greyhound buses Scout's teams took down to Woodbury and left on the outskirts for the day. The sixth Humvee already passed them, headed for the infirmary.

She knows from the reports that all of Woodbury came, every last resident, plus a captive that Scout discovered. That woman's on her way to Homestead proper.

The refugees are off the bus, looking as shell shocked and lost as Grady's did when Carol first saw them. A dark skinned woman steps forward at Scout's urging.

"This is Dr. Roberta Stevens. Dr. Stevens, meet the rest of our council." She rattles through the introductions. "For now, Dr. Stevens leads Woodbury."

This is Carol's domain, the one she's claimed and made her own. She gives her best smile to the crowd.

"We knew that liberating Woodbury might bring us more residents, but I admit we were not expecting so many, so fast. Hopefully, everyone will understand the quarters are going to be a little crowded at first."

She motions to the houses along the lane. There are nine houses on the cul-de-sac that are ready. She started her crews here, two weeks ago, because Eugene and Merle estimated it the easiest area to hook up electricity to. There's even running water, thanks to the fact that all of the homes were already on wells this far out from town.

"There's only nine homes ready, with electricity and water, so everyone will be a bit crowded. Tomorrow, those of you who are able to help can assist in finishing out the houses on the next side street. They're mostly in need of a good cleaning and the electricity expanded."

Dr. Stevens eyes the extra fencing that surrounds the original short chain link for each yard. She's a smart woman, and she hasn't missed the fact that there are gates at the opening of the street. Merle's fencing crew put up the leftover high security prison fencing as today's work, surrounding both little streets.

"I'm guessing we aren't going to have free run of the property just yet."

"No, your people will not. While we understand that the Governor's crimes were not committed by everyone, we don't have time to vet your people as thoroughly as we require for newcomers to Homestead. At night, you will be locked in."

The older woman sighs. "Can't be a worse prison than the last one we were in, even if most of these folks had no clue they were in a cage."

It's a sign of what revealing the truth to the Woodbury citizens did to rock their worlds that no one seems willing to protest.

"It has the added benefit of an extra line of defense around the houses," Carol consoles.

"Alright everyone. You heard the lady. We got nine houses and a lot of people to find a place to sleep." She tilts her head as she sees the Woodbury fighters who aren't hospitalized step off the back of the stakebed truck with armloads of gear. "And I'm guessing these folks could use some help unloading."

It takes less than an hour to get everyone fed and settled into the little neighborhood that Carol thinks will need a name. Not Woodbury, because that will haunt their own people, even if these people will eventually be leaving. Perhaps the new residents will name it themselves.

Merle locks the gates behind them. The teams that went to Woodbury today are still patiently here, on guard even though Carol thinks it might be overkill. With their watch building destroyed and no cameras right here just yet, tonight Woodbury will be overseen the old fashioned way.

She can see Abraham's large form climbing on top of the Humvee. It's his team on watch down here tonight, with two of them already curling up in the back of the Humvee to sleep, while the third walks a perimeter around the fencing so that everyone understands they're there.

"You still sure about this?" Merle asks. It gets the attention of the other council members as they load back into the pickup to follow the trail of Humvees and buses home.

"We took a chance on Grady and those people fought and even died for us yesterday. To do anything else makes us the same kind of monster he was."

Hershel and Patricia nod in agreement. Carol knows the rest of the council isn't as settled in the idea, but they trust her judgement.

What a difference a year makes in the power she has in her life.

~*~ Daryl ~*~

He's just about to rustle all the kids toward Merle's so Lori can sleep when he hears Shane coming down the hall to Lori's quiet little room. Everyone slept in the adjoining room last night, reluctant to go far, but they can't keep that up.

The girls are playing a card game with Carl, sprawled on the floor, while Judith's dozing in Sophia's arms. He can hear Shane speaking to someone, and as the big ex-deputy enters, Daryl sees Christopher turn and head back into the hospital proper.

Whatever happened at Woodbury today has Shane rattled as hell, because he bends to pluck Anaya and Abby from the floor into his arms. The girls squeak just a bit, but get with the program quickly and return the bear hug.

By the time he finally releases them, Scout's arrived. She looks similarly off-kilter, but the girls are ready and hug her first.

Shane seems to be reaching for Judith, but when Sophia offers the baby, she gets a similar hug. Judith rouses from being squished, babbling excitedly to see Shane.

Sophia says what everyone is wandering, her arms firmly around her brother-in-law's waist. "Did something bad happen today?"

It's Scout who answers. "The Governor had a daughter who turned. He kept her locked up, looking for a cure."

That would explain Shane's need to embrace all the girls of the family, Daryl supposes. He hopes Shane or Scout didn't have to put her down. Coming on the heels of the children having to run for cover yesterday, that's a nightmare they don't need.

Lori reaches out, her hand wavering, but Shane lets go of Sophia to take it. He keeps the girl and baby close to his side.

"The girls stayed close and safe today. So did Carl, and even Logan for a while."

How she can smile so reassuringly when he knows she's battled with pain all day, he doesn't know.

"We helped Aunt Lori walk the hallway," Anaya adds. "Three or four times."

He didn't expect to see Lori on her feet less than twenty-four hours after half her liver was removed, but apparently it's best to be up and about as soon as possible to avoid complications. She compared it to her C-section recovery, so he guesses she understands the risks. She even has a belly pillow that she says is the same as after Carl was born.

"I'm betting she loved the company, but she's starting to look a bit tired. How about we all head up to the main house for a bit?" Shane suggests.

"Even Abby and Carl?" Anaya asks, looking doubtful that they'll want to leave their mother.

"Even Abby and Carl," Lori says, saving Daryl from being the one to send them to get better sleep than a sleeping bag on a tile floor.

Carl looks like he's going to argue, but something in his mother's tired expression has him sweeping the cards up and into their box. He leans in to kiss Lori on the cheek.

"I'll stay the night at their place, too," he offers.

Shane's finally released Sophia and Judith, so she joins the other kids. "We'll head on up. We'll be back to see you after breakfast, Aunt Lori."

Lori's promptly given kisses from the younger girls too, and they all shuffle down the hall.

"How bad was it today?" he asks. There was never a question of him going, but damn if he doesn't wish that sort of burden doesn't always fall on Scout and Shane.

It takes a good ten minutes for them to take turns telling about the house of horrors.

"I wish we found him sooner," Scout adds. "He had her down there a month."

"No way we could have predicted that level of crazy," he tells her. She's leaning into Shane like he's her only anchor in the world. It's probably mostly right at this moment.

"I would have made him suffer more, if I had known."

He suspects she would have, but at what cost to her own soul?


	104. Recovery

**July 2, 2011**

~*~ Beth ~*~

This morning was a rough one for Homestead, one that Beth feels guilty she is glad to leave behind. She and Jazz sang, as requested, as the six people they lost were laid to rest in a newly created cemetery just outside the gates that led from the Eldridge farm into the expansion. She suspects that once the creative types get done with the little patch of newly hallowed ground, it's going to be a pretty place as a final resting place.

They also buried a tiny coffin alongside their own people. While graves on Homestead soil weren't made for those who died attacking Homestead, everyone agreed that Penny Blake deserved a different setting than a series of unmarked graves in a field three miles away. From the looks of the Woodbury refugees, they just seem glad their people got buried and not dumped at the big landfill down at Atlanta like the walkers and their leader were.

She bustles onto the ward behind Carol, setting food out on everyone's overbed table. Carol's handling the three folks not on the ward. She circles back with her own container of food and nudges Alex's legs over just enough to take a seat to eat lunch with him.

"This is getting to be a habit," the man says, smiling to take any sting out of the words.

"You aren't curious about what happened in the barn," she says, shrugging. It's not that people mean to upset her, but the impact of what she did seems bigger when others talk about it.

At the time, it was just what needed to be done. She had no idea she, Alex, and Eugene were facing off with the Governor himself. Alex is safe from the gossip by virtue of being in here, and most people don't pester Eugene if he doesn't want to talk. But that leaves her, and her reputation for being too polite to tell them to leave her alone.

"You could tell them to just piss off." He's getting good at working around the restraints, but he's held fast to the idea that he doesn't want to be released from them other than brief breaks until 72 hours have passed.

She giggles. "Can you picture their expressions if I did? Might give some of them a heart attack on the spot!"

"That would fix the problem with their morbid curiosity."

She rolls her eyes at him and concentrates on eating the sliced fruit in her lunch. "I'm going to ask to train for a run team now. With the Governor gone, Daddy's not as likely to fuss about it."

"I'd think your Daddy's as likely to fuss about you missing out on your studies."

"That's the thing though. All the other apprentices also have other work. Jazz is on the building crew and Titus works on the farm. The animals really don't need me for hours and hours every day, and I really don't want to just work the farm because it's easy and fits."

She has - or will have - her usual work roster that Carol rotates through the various chores needed, but that'll come to an end when she turns eighteen. She's got until October first to decide before she's assigned an adult's work shift. Carol's not draconian about it, and she could probably still mix things up, but she hasn't tried everything yet.

"Maybe your best bet is to go through Carol. It's not a rush, yet, not with that arm." He wobbles his left arm, what's left of it, toward her bright green cast.

"Not the runs themselves, no. But there's so much to know first."

Theoretically, she could ask Jazz to train her. He's fully qualified for runs, but simply doesn't do them, other than hunting runs with Daryl or anything building related that Merle goes out on.

"You sound like me when I came here last year."

"Miss Beth?"

She turns on hearing the accented English and gives Daniel her best smile. It's good to see him awake and aware now, after him being mostly sedated yesterday. "What do you need?" she asks, giving him her best smile.

"I need a little assistance with the noodle dish."

The ward is usually so busy that it's unusual that she's the only one in here. Even the nurse on duty, Felipe, stepped away once she was present. It's nice to feel that trusted, she supposes, even though her skills don't overlap on humans as well as her father's do yet.

"Oops. They were supposed to cut everything up on all the meals. They must have missed one."

Unlike Beth and Alex, whose injuries don't impact their dominant hand, Daniel's right arm is in a cast like Beth's, except blue. She takes the plastic knife out of his cutlery packet and makes short work of breaking down the eggplant parmesan.

"Where's your friends?" she asks, curious. At least one Vato, either the ones that tracked down Woodbury or the ones already long settled at Homestead, has sat at Daniel's bedside since he was brought in.

"They wanted to attend the funeral this morning, and I told them to take a break until after lunch."

"Did you know Mr. Salcedo or Mrs. Rogers?"

He nods. "It was hard not to get familiar with all of the elders, considering. They didn't care what we were before the dead rose, not anymore. We were good boys for sticking around." He smiles and she recalls how many of the Vatos that originally came north seemed starved for positive interactions.

He looks at his food and now that it's cut up, he can manage the bites with his left hand. "Fresh fruit and vegetables almost seem like a dream. I mean, we scavenged orchards sometimes, but that's not like this."

"When you're discharged, you should ask for a tour of the farm and greenhouses. We were lucky that the farm was already next door. Gave us a good head start."

He isn't the only newcomer listening closely. All of the Woodbury people are intent on the conversation, although she suspects their introduction to Homestead will be handled differently than Daniel's.

"Are all the meals vegetarian, or is it because of being in here?" Daniel frowns a little. "Wait. We had eggs at breakfast."

"We don't eat meat quite like you might have done before, because we're still building our flocks and herds up. Usually, if there's meat on the menu, you'll see it at supper instead of lunch. But the chickens, we've gone beyond flocks to swarms of those it seems like when eggs are gathered."

"Or when the mean little shits are hiding their eggs to hatch out more mean little shits," Alex grumbles.

Beth laughs. "You're just mad because that rooster flogged you."

Alex bobbles his fork toward Beth and Daniel. "Don't let their fluffy little poofball bodies fool you, man. All that crap people say, using chicken like it's a synonym for cowardice? Complete B.S. They'll hunt you down like a raptor out of Jurassic Park."

It makes many of the folks on the ward laugh, although the action makes Daniel reach for his PCA control. "Do you need anything else?"

"No, ma'am. I'll stop interrupting your lunch with your boyfriend."

Beth starts to correct him, but then lets it go. She and Gage broke things off, with him planning on being in Virginia for months, if not a full year.

But Alex is looking a little disgruntled when she sits. "I'm not gonna have your daddy looking for a chunk of my hide, am I?"

"No." She smiles as sweetly as she can. "Maggie would be the one for that, if you ever deserved it. But we're not dating, so no worries, right?"

"Yeah, no worries."

~*~ Carol ~*~

Carol uses her bandanna to wipe away the sweat that's accumulating faster than she can keep up today. She folds the cloth up and ties it around her head like a headband, which will help a little.

"Picked a hell of a day for house cleaning," Jacqui says. Jim's still hospitalized, but the couple quickly realized her being right there was going to drive them both around the bend. Since he's stable and Jacqui's team's temporarily off-duty, she joined Carol's cleaning crew.

"Pretty sure the weather station back at my office is probably mid-nineties, don't you think?"

"Absolutely." Jacqui puts her hands on her hips and surveys the kitchen they've just finished.

Like most of the abandoned houses, the fridge is the worst part. This one had enough gunk from spoiled food that Carol honestly considered just asking a supply team to fetch a new one. They even resorted to running the dishwasher to get some extra sanitizing on the bins, although she makes a note to send one of Merle's crew to pull the dishwashers from these houses too.

"Mrs. Dixon?"

Carol turns to see the pair of Woodbury teens that are helping clean the house. "Yes, Jody?"

"On the personal items in the bedroom, do we throw them away or put them to recycle back out?"

"If it's not something too personal, like photos, put it in the big rolling bins to be sorted through inventory. Clothing, CDs, bedding, that sort of thing. Photos or anything that really isn't reusable, put it in one of the smaller boxes and we'll seal them."

"You keep those things?" Jody asks, looking puzzled.

"While the odds are really low that any of these people survived or will return here even if they did, yes, we do save things, just in case. I would hate for a family member who was states away to arrive here and find out the last momentos of their family were thrown out because we needed housing space."

He smiles, the uncertainty disappearing with the explanation. "I didn't think of it that way."

"Just be sure to write the address on the box so we don't lose track of what came from each house."

The teenager disappears, along with his partner, who has yet to speak a word around either Carol or Jacqui. Some of the other houses have bigger teams than theirs, but at Jacqui's insistence, Carol's in charge of this little mother-in-law's cottage in back of one of the larger houses.

She's not fooled by Jacqui's idea that it'll be less cleaning for her to undertake. It's also a security issue. She doesn't want pregnant Carol around any larger groups of the Woodbury people just yet.

The teens aren't the only ones helping, but neither woman has the heart to really push Milton Mamet toward any real activity. If sitting in the bathroom and half-heartedly cleaning is all the man has in him today, that's just all he has. At least being here keeps him away from well-meaning people asking how he's handling the revived grief over his niece's death.

"I think that man's going to the top of my list for priority on appointments with Denise," Carol says quietly to Jacqui.

"I agree there. He's got that vacant look Jim used to wear all the time."

"And he's got no Jacqui to keep him centered."

"I begin to wonder how hard it would be for Denise to train an assistant. Someone who could take on the less complicated cases for her and give her someone in the know to mull things over with."

"Like Hershel?"

"Maybe. Caleb's got a pretty soothing manner too, and you or Lilly do well with others. That motherly effect you both have."

"Lilly and I don't have enough training for that."

"To be a psychiatrist, maybe not. But to be a psychologist, an educated ear beyond the medications? You could do that. Might put a foot in Gabriel's rear to get him jump started back to ministry too. Seminary gives a lot of training in psychology."

"I'll talk to Denise tonight and get her input on whether or not she's going to feel overloaded with Woodbury added." The council's making sessions with Denise mandatory for all their newcomers, until the psychiatrist deems them unnecessary for each person. Shane considered it like the departmental psych evals he had on the job, with Scout mentioning similar for her MOS in the Marines.

"Ever thought of building Gabriel a church? There's a pretty little spot near that cemetary that would make for a beautiful chapel. Give those that need the extra guidance a place to go."

Carol considers it and nods. "I actually miss going to church. Ed encouraged it because it was a good public image. Hershel didn't want to take up that role officially, but with Gabriel here, I'm sure many might like the solace."

"Make for prettier weddings than the community center too, in bad weather." Jacqui gives her a sly smile, leaning against the cabinet. "Remember what we talked about, before your wedding?"

It takes Carol a minute to remember discussing whether Lori or Jacqui would ever marry. She grins so widely it almost hurts her face. "Really?"

"Proposed over a bowl of lime jello last night at supper."

"Please tell me Jim's up for a real wedding, because I think everyone could use the celebration. Plus you in your own fancy dress."

"Jim might not prefer it, but the girls will want it, so he's willing."

"I'll touch base with those who lost people and see what everyone feels is respectful and then we'll get planning."

Despite the heat, she throws her arms around her friend and just lets the shared joy wash over her.

~*~ Eugene ~*~

Eugene watches as Honey drapes her arms around Christopher's shoulders and smiles at Tim.

"I know you two were going to stand before Hershel tonight, but I want to ask you to wait about a week."

Both men give her puzzled looks.

"Why?" Christopher asks.

"Mama thinks everyone needs a celebration and doing the usual first Saturday of the month we do feels off today."

"We don't really need a big deal made," Christopher says.

"No, but the nursing home ladies adore you. If they miss you getting married…"

Tim laughs. "They'll make us repeat it just for them anyway."

"And you won't be solo. Mama says there's two other couples."

"Alright. Tell your mama we can wait a week."

Honey brushes a kiss across each of their cheeks and disappears, leaving Eugene holding their to-go containers.

Christopher arches a brow at him. "I'm guessing that the two of you aren't one of the other couples."

"I suspect the entire state of Georgia and a good portion of the eastern seaboard would resound with the excitement if we were," Eugene ventures. "But she's not yet concerned with a formal declaration."

He already knows he'll marry Honey the second she's ready. The old insecure part of him flinches away from asking too soon. Six months might be enough, for people with relationship experience behind them. He doesn't think either of them are there yet.

And now more than it ever was, it's not entirely necessary. Everyone important to both of them know they are a couple.

Christopher eyes the three containers with a smirk. "You already live in a home you built together and you're skipping Saturday supper to spend time with the fur baby. I think you two are just skipping ahead like Cricket did."

"Augustus has earned a little spoiling." The big dog's home at their cabin now, just mobile enough to not need to be carried in and out.

He isn't the only dog that fought that day, because several others were treated for minor wounds, especially Augustus's offspring. And one of the head injuries in the infirmary is from Imbri, where the man thought the pasture a safe place to flee from the fighting. He's lucky the big mare didn't kill him.

"He certainly does," the other men agree.

Honey's back, looping her arm through his. Bidding the two men good night, he lets her steer him outside.

"What did they say that has you looking as skittish as you did back at New Year's?" she asks, looking curious.

"Just the usual implications that engaged or married couples prefer to assume everyone around them is aiming for the same state."

She laughs, flexing her fingers on his arm. "I am in no particular rush to get there. Are you?"

He shakes his head. "I am uncertain that official wedded bliss would be any different than what we currently have."

They've reached the path down to where their cabin is and Honey hums something off-key. He doesn't recognize the song, but she's cheerful, so he doesn't speak until after they're home and Augustus is enjoying the rice and ground lamb the kitchen crew cooked for him.

Their own meal is settled in front of the snug little sofa. Honey's settled with her back against the armrest and her legs across his lap.

"Eugene?"

He looks up from his food to see her tapping her fork idly against the carton. But her expression is maybe the most serious he's ever seen her without a rifle in her hands.

"Until the world ended, I've never seen a successful marriage up close and personal. Bryce was maybe the closest, and his wife died too soon to ever know if it would last." She sighs deeply. "I love Shane, Tara, and Carol as if they were always family, but part of me still can't wrap my mind around the idea that it'll last."

She sets her food and his aside, claiming his lap completely. "It's silly and superstitious, but I just don't want to change anything between us."

He cups her face in his hands and strokes her cheeks gently. "Big changes are terrifying most of the time. We'll stick to the little ones and just construct as we go. One thing at a time, until such day you feel like marriage is a link you need to me."

"And if that's never?"

"Last I checked, the primary reasons for marriage are financial and legal benefits. We have no need of finances and your family would never keep me from you if you were not aware enough to make your own decisions."

Isn't that a horrifying thought to have, her incapacitated in some way, or worse, having to make decisions for her care? The third reason, to provide security for children, is a non-issue, for now at least. If he's lucky, it won't become one for a decade or more.

"And the emotional one of promising forever?"

"I seem to remember you saying that you and Augustus are keeping me forever just the other night. Right, Augie?"

The dog's finished his meal and gives a doggie yawn, but limps forward to drop his big head in Honey's lap.

"See? He's all the witness I need."

He ignores the voice of the old Eugene, who wants to cast doubts. Perhaps forever won't happen for them, but he doesn't think it would have to end in angst and tears either. They have plenty of examples of friendship after breakup to follow.

She giggles and loses the odd solemn mood as Augustus licks at her fingers. "I love you, Eugene."

He kisses her before replying in kind. Maybe the time will come where he doesn't take things day by day, but it's not an awful place to be. It reminds him just how rare the woman in his arms is.

~*~ Lori ~*~

Lori's convinced if they don't let her go home soon, she may go bonkers. No matter how cozy they make the room she's in, it's not her bed in her own home. No one seems to want to turn her loose with the pain pump, despite the fact that she's almost entirely certain she can look after the port at home.

The surgical drain is gone, and with that particular distastefulness gone, it's like they ripped out her patience with it.

She bides her time, waiting for the surgeon visiting from Hilltop to visit near supper time. He's looking over her chart with a neutral expression.

"Does everything look normal?" she asks.

Dr. Carson gives a quick nod. "Granted, my specialty was the heart for most of the last two decades, but you're doing remarkably well. Even numbers we expect to see struggling are holding pretty steady."

"I heal fast. Even after my C-section, it felt like it was back to normal within two weeks."

"That's a side effect of being healthy before surgery. It's probably the reason you're stable now. Since the wound catheter can stay in place up to ninety-six hours and seems to be controlling almost all your pain, I do want you to stay here until it's removed."

Her grimace is hard to hide and he continues with a consoling smile. "It's the best outcome for nursing, too, since it's unlikely to affect Judith the way any oral pain med will."

She sighs, but just like with her C-section, the side effects on nursing are more important than her own dislike of being in a hospital setting. It's worse now, after Rick's coma, but she can handle another day and a half for Judith's sake.

There's enough frozen breast milk that she could probably take the good pain meds and just dump milk, but she isn't fond of the idea. And it's not like she's stuck in the bed.

Remembering her restlessness from the premature labor, Daryl brought in a comfortable chair for her so she's not limited to the hospital bed. She has plenty of other comforts of home… everything except actual home.

"I can manage another day and a half."

"We'll do a trial of lidocaine patches before you go home. We've seen pain patches work well on the other patients who volunteered to assess them on their own post-surgical pain."

"And is that working well?"

"Both other abdominal surgery patients aware enough to participate are quite happy with them so far. One amputee patient reports good pain management and the other does not, but that could be attributed to the nature of the amputation."

"I'll have to thank them for being guinea pigs.". She resists a smile at the man's fall back to old world patient confidentiality. While she doesn't know the specifics of everyone's care, especially being isolated from the ward, she knows who the other wounded are.

She hopes the amputee getting relief is Alex. Losing Beth would crush Hershel, and Lori owes the man her life and probably the relatively managed pain in her recovery. She would have loved to have had this catheter on her previous abdominal surgery.

Emmett Carson admitted he wouldn't have considered it during an emergency surgery like hers.

Dr. Carson smiles. "It's refreshing to be able to not have to justify an alternate treatment to an insurance company or know a patient won't have a necessary procedure covered."

Daryl snorts. "Took the damned end of the world to get free health care, right, doc?"

"Let's just hope we have fewer needs for this level of care in the future." He bids them farewell, probably off to consult and assess Sam's care.

None of the kids are here, partly because Lori asked for the doctor to stop by when they were at supper. She takes Daryl's hand, squeezing it gently and wishing she could rid him of that chronic worried tension he's carried for days.

"I'm going to be just fine, honey. Just a little more like a patchwork doll than before."

Before Daryl, the scarring that will span her upper abdomen would have horrified her. It's not that Rick would have cared either, but she knows shedding her vanity probably never would have happened in her first marriage. The public image she built up around all the social pressures that Rick could one day run for sheriff was a deep seated one.

They fed into each other's imagery. Everything neat and clean and picture perfect. It's only in hindsight that she can see how unhappy it made them both - and Carl.

"You know I don't give a shit about any scars." He caresses the arm without the IV hookup. She's no longer on an IV, but it makes it easier for blood work.

"I know." She knows it not just from her own scar and stretch marks, but from the way that Daryl never avoids contact with Scout's scars like many others do.

She leans in for a kiss. "Give me an escort to the bathroom. My bladder says it's not waiting I eat."

He reaches for one of several small pillows that made their way into her hospital room, tucking it under her breasts and letting her take over holding gentle pressure. The bathroom is at the other end of the hall, and while going there and back currently makes her feel like she's done the three mile run for PT, it's all the freedom she has right now.

Less than two more days and maybe she can go home. It's something to look forward to.


	105. Genius Baby Sister

**July 3, 2011**

~*~ Carol ~*~

Carol surveys her remaining patients with hands on hips. Cricket was sent home to the main house after Harlan decreed her contractions to be dehydration related, and Tara with her. Alex is close enough to the seventy-two hour mark that he's being released today.

That leaves her with two abdominal surgery patients, Jim and Terminus's Marguerite, both of whom are doing well enough they're only here another day.

Dale is leaving today for the nursing home, by his choice, for the duration of his leg healing and physical therapy. His apartment is too small, and he prefers being closer to the center of things versus out in the Dixon Village with Amy and Jamie.

Three of the prisoners were released to the Woodbury people, the girl with the dog-mauled arm and the two gunshot wounds. That leaves Martinez, Evelyn, and Warren, whose head injury from the horse means a longer term stay.

Daniel stated he was fine with being near the Woodbury patients, even moving a bed closer so he could talk to Martinez without raising his voice. That's a strong mark in the favor of the Governor's former henchman's true nature.

Neither Lori nor Sam are on the ward, both in converted rooms elsewhere. Even once beds opened up, no one wanted to move them, especially Sam.

The count reminds her how lucky they were. The infirmary doesn't hold all their injured, because there were dozens of minor injuries that either didn't need professional treatment or didn't need extra observation. It could have been so very much worse.

Jim's actually alone at the moment, since the kids started back to school today. Jacqui is serving as one of the not-quite-guards as Woodbury residents cycle through physicals and out to work crews.

Carol sets the container of baked custard on the overbed tray. "You mentioned liking flan, so Jazz made them for here and the nursing home today."

"He's having trouble keeping busy, isn't he?" Jim says, reaching for the table and pulling it front of the chair he was sitting in to read.

"Hershel's got him off rounds for at least two weeks, so, definitely. He's been alternating between the kitchens and laundry."

"I'm guessing he can't do the building crews either yet." Jim makes a content sound as he takes a bite of the flan.

Carol's known the man for just over a year, and honestly, he's changed so much from the lost man in the quarry that she wouldn't recognize him if she hadn't followed his progress. He's alert, active in his care, and spends his afternoons in here spending time with his girls.

"Same risks of an accidental impact to the face, plus the leg needs to heal." The ribs ended up being the least of the injuries, despite their spectacular bruising.

"Ever thought of letting him teach some? Bet the boy could run a science class in his sleep, and these kids need that kind of knowledge." Jim looks toward the three Woodbury patients. "Maybe let him be in charge of the newbie kids that have a lot of catching up to do."

Carol stills in the bedding change and laughs softly. "That's absolutely perfect, Jim. There's eighteen kids under thirteen, and they're going to be lost little ducks compares to the kids already here."

Even the most recent groups brought in had children better adapted, because they lived without the protection of walls. Woodbury's kids are way behind.

He smiles wryly. "He's a good kid. They'll respond to that." But then he pauses. "I guess after the other day, can't really call most of them kids."

"I saw Anthony came in to visit yesterday."

As tense as Oscar's eldest son is at times, it's heartwarming to see him checking up on the mechanic he's been training with.

"He's going to be a hell of a mechanic, maybe even an engineer, now that he's realized fighting the dead isn't the only viable thing to do. Probably helps having women skilled at a job he's not used to seeing them do."

That's certainly the type of news Carol likes to hear. No one wants discontent bred here, and adjusting is harder on some than others. The nice thing about the alliance is that it gives them alternatives for people to find their niche.

"I'll see about assigning him down there full time for the next few months to cover Denova's maternity leave and your light duty period."

"That would be greatly appreciated. Even without the search, the run vehicles need a lot of oversight to make sure the fuels aren't causing problems. Rosita's good, but it's not a solo job."

Carol makes a mental note to ask Axel to go full time at the garage for a month or two. The former prisoner won't mind, although the kitchen staff will miss his cheerful brand of bullshitting while they work.

With Glenn's team half down, maybe Honey could shift gears too.

"Got a song request for Saturday," Jim says. "Probably can't dance with her, not like we ought to, but I want this. Would really appreciate it if Jazz and Beth could do it live. Wasn't sure it would be in any books."

He slides her a page out of his notebook. She reads it and smiles. "I'm sure they'll both be honored by the request."

She's called away to assist Caleb with Dale and tucks the paper carefully away. She suspects Jacqui will enjoy the keepsake, since Jim's copied the lyrics from memory.

It's enough to keep her smiling for the rest of her morning shift.

~*~ Denise ~*~

Denise pulled the big mobile medical unit down near the Woodbury gates after breakfast. Unlike some of their newcomers, Woodbury's had access to a doctor, but Dr. Stevens never had the resources to do the full scale physicals.

Hershel's in an RV that's set up to double as a clinic. Patrick's along to assist the older man, while Denise has Maggie. Dr. Stevens is sitting in, to keep familiar with her people.

She's halfway through today's list of patients when lunch arrives. The morning is easy enough, all children and the youngest teens. After lunch will slow down as they start needing gynecological care too.

"Looks like we're getting the fun seating," she comments. Jazz and Jesus are assembling a patio table and chairs, complete with an umbrella for shade. Since physicals will likely take at least two more days, she likes the convenience.

It nets her a faint smile from the teenager and a grin from Jesus.

"Will you be eating with the other medical staff, Dr. Stevens?" Jazz asks. There are six chairs, so there's room.

"I don't think there's a dire need for me to eat with the rest of Woodbury, and I wouldn't mind the opportunity to speak with other doctors without patients present."

Denise gives her a kindly smile. "I felt much the same way when I first came here."

Hershel's coming to join them, but Patrick's veered off to help Jazz bring food and drinks to their table, while Jesus disappears around the other side of the farm truck, helping hand out box lunches to the Woodbury folks with Carol's people.

"Thus far, Dr. Stevens, I commend you on a very healthy population," Hershel says when he reaches them. He takes his boxed lunch from Jazz and takes a seat while Patrick puts bottled drinks on the table.

"Call me Roberta, please." They all sit, except for Jazz.

"Have you eaten already, Jasper?" Hershel asks his apprentice.

"Yes, sir. You know they can't help but feed me when I work in the kitchens." He heads off to help his mother, leaving them to open up their lunches.

Roberta is watching Jazz leave more than her food. "He was hurt in the attack?"

Hershel's expression is as grave as Denise has ever seen it. "The facial injury was while saving a sixteen-year-old girl from one of the men. He's limping because he was shot in the thigh and took several rifle impacts to body armor while using himself as a human shield over a wounded woman."

Denise lets that sink in before adding, "He's not even sixteen. The woman he protected has a five month old baby and two older children."

"Please tell me that the man that attacked the girl isn't one you're returning to me."

"He didn't survive the encounter with Jasper. And someone else finished off the sniper."

Denise keeps a straight face, but just barely. She's been privy to enough of the analysis of the aftermath to know that Eugene shot the man and then kicked him, still breathing, out of the hayloft for a more than two-story fall.

"And then he protected the prisoners from being attacked in the infirmary," Patrick adds.

"When did that happen?" Hershel asks, body going still in a way that reminds Denise more of the cops than the veterinarian's usual body language.

"When you were both still in surgery. Daryl came out of the area Carol had the blood donors and kinda lost it. It was before Lori woke up. Jazz just used some cop maneuver to restrain him."

"Denise?"

She shakes her head. "He didn't mention it in his session."

Jazz isn't the only one who sought out her psychiatric services since the battle, but he's one of the least surprising in coming to her so quickly.

Hershel sighs. "That'll be an interesting conversation to have tonight when I get home."

"Are you related to the boy?" Roberta asks.

"Directly, no, but I suppose I'm an uncle of sorts now. He's one of my three veterinary apprentices."

Roberta mulls that over before turning to her food. "Carol mentioned yesterday that as people clear medical she will have them putting gardens in each of the individual yards. Is that how there's such a wealth of fresh fruit and vegetables?"

Today's lunch is a pita pocket stuffed full of sauteed vegetables and mushrooms, along with fresh cantaloupe and the little squash kolokotes that appear anytime Jazz is in the kitchen.

"While we do have smaller gardens, most of the housing we've been using isn't on such large pieces of land. We have close to forty acres planted between crops and orchards between here and Homestead proper," Hershel explains. "But we've expanded into this area to grow grain crops."

"So if the crops here aren't as successful while we're still learning, we won't go hungry."

Hershel shakes his head. "We plant so much because we want to prepare for a year where the crops aren't as plentiful. It's also why we've helped other communities establish or expand their agriculture."

"In hopes that one area's failure won't get everyone." Roberta nods thoughtfully. "Would it be possible to establish a community kitchen down here, too? I like the sense of community the group meals foster."

She motions to where Woodbury folks can be seen picnicking with their boxed lunches. Carol can be seen, moving among them, and Denise wonders if any of them have caught on to the woman's deft interrogations hidden as motherly concern.

"One of the houses outside the fencing could be adapted, I imagine," Hershel replies. He's already studying the two homes nearest the fenced area.

"Or Merle will simply build one down here," Denise adds.

"I wouldn't ask for new construction that wouldn't benefit your community as well once we're gone."

"It's always been our intent to expand down here as our population grows." Hershel turns instead to a big open area, thinking as he takes a bite of his food. "And we'll need a new laundry facility anyway."

"Maybe a restaurant with an attached laundromat," Denise suggests. "Plan for the future in a big way."

When Hershel smiles, she knows the idea is taking hold. "I'll bring it up to Carol and Merle."

"I'm just glad there's a plan for laundry. People were a little flustered when they came this morning to pull dishwashers and laundry appliances out of the houses."

"It's easier to isolate appliances that require a lot of electricity or water use. The solar panels aren't infinite, nor is the septic system for each house." Hershel smiles kindly. "And aside from long rainy spells, laundry is line dried."

"That would explain the lovely fresh smell on all the bedding brought down."

Carol's making her way over, smiling. "Did all of the children make it through their physicals?"

Denise and Hershel both nod.

"This afternoon, I'm going to send Jazz and Jesus back down with the garden equipment to get that started. The children will get to help as a science lesson."

"Will they be joining the other children for school hours?" Roberta asks.

"Probably not for a few weeks for formal classes. It was suggested to me this morning that they could use some catching up in some areas, and that hands on learning would do well to help them adapt."

"What will they be learning, and could the teenagers be included?"

"Gardening, foraging, fishing, and animal care to start. I've asked one of your ladies who can sew and knit to host classes for all ages. Eventually, we'll add in self-defense, firearm safety, and other practical skills, but those will be after the kids are back in morning classes for reading and math."

"Whatever gives them the best start on their future, I will convince my people to agree to it. Most are now well aware that we can't sit and wait to be provided for anymore."

"I'll have a work roster for everyone by the day after tomorrow. That'll be when your people start getting more access to the rest of Homestead, as part of work details."

"They'll be ready."

Carol continues the planning conversation, but Denise's attention drifts. Jazz is already laying the groundwork for an entirely new batch of small devotees. He has the orphaned kittens down here too, letting the Woodbury children pet and admire them.

Although not a calculated move by Jazz himself, she suspects Carol's aiming right at the sympathies of Woodbury. Wounded, bashful teen with an affinity for children and animals? Denise can't imagine a better representative of their community spirit.

Sometimes, she's really glad Carol's one of the good guys.

~*~ Shane ~*~

Shane's never happier for his amped up fitness program than on days like today. With Woodbury retrieved, he diverted his team to the recovery effort. With a lot of sheer determination, they cleared away the last of the debris from the destroyed garage. It was slow going, because no one wanted to miss salvaging anything of the little family's apartment.

Scout rotated the day off from any set duties to allow Daryl to mostly stay with Lori without having the children full-time underfoot now that they're confident on Lori's recovery.

He finds her in the community center with one table claimed as workspace. She's studying a scale map of the property while Judith plays in a portable playpen next to her. The girls and Carl are nowhere to be seen, but Sophia is reading on one of the bean bag chairs used for movie nights.

He supposes with the watch building gone, there's not a lot of places with a table big enough for the map.

"Carl took the girls down with Maggie and Michonne to help on the farm. They've got rabbits again," Scout says absently.

He drops into the seat beside her and distracts her with a kiss. That brings him into Judy's view, and her contented babble turns to a demand to be picked up. With her settled in his lap, he takes a look at the map.

"The caches?"

On her map, she's marked the weapons caches accessed, as well as the bunkers and root cellars.

"Look how far apart some of them are if you're actually under fire. What we did was better than nothing, but everything is too disconnected. People were cut off from each other, and the watch building too vulnerable to attack."

Looking at the map with a critical eye, he agrees. For safety's sake, the armory is somewhat remote, but it put the trio accessing it in a lot of danger.

"Not enough of the military body armor in the caches either," he notes. Only having one vest at home with them gone is why Beth had to make the hard choice on going without. And Lori was only wearing kevlar.

Everyone on council has seen the difference between the vest cut off Lori and the damaged ESAPI plates from vests like Jazz's. The kevlar was never meant to stop a rifle round.

Hell, they're probably lucky the sniper shooting at Jazz wasn't good enough to keep hitting the same plate. They're only rated for three impacts, and Jazz took four, including the thigh wound.

"Building more caches is a good idea, and we can access plenty of military supplies for them, but we have to be able to get to them." Scout's frowning in a way that makes Shane glad she's turning her sense of failure at being outmaneuvered by the Governor toward the future versus the past.

"Could we build tunnels?" Sophia asks.

They both look at the girl, who smiles. "When Carl and Logan and me were stuck in the little shelter, that was what we wished for. Like on shows where people travel through sewers or that weird black and white show about the POWs as spies."

"Hogan's Heroes?" Shane asks.

"Yeah. I bet Daddy could build better tunnels than that."

Shane's pretty sure Merle could move their entire community underground safely with enough time and supplies. He looks at Scout, who is tracing a pattern on the map with one finger.

"You're a genius, baby sister," she says, grinning.

Sophia's answering smile is blinding.

~*~ Merlel ~*~

He feels the leg cramp subside, but Merle's strong fingers don't cease their careful massage of Carol's right leg. Part of him worries she's too active, but after Cricket literally hit him with an Expecting book a few weeks ago and ordered him to memorize it, he figures Carol's probably better off being so active.

It's just hard to see any blips on her enjoying the pregnancy, not after what he knows about her first one, or what he remembers of Lil's misery-ridden one with Honey.

Normally, this far into massaging her legs, she just falls right asleep after a long day, but since Carol's still peeking at him around the gentle rose of belly, he smiles up at her. The baby's moving, so he risks riling her up by pressing a firm kiss right over the spot. He's only been able to feel her move since the night before the Woodbury attack.

"I think that if I hadn't already married you, seeing that would have me dragging you off to Hershel or the priest."

He grins at her. "Always going to be me that loved her first on my girls."

She remembers the song at Scout's wedding, he can tell, because she cups his cheek with that misty look she had then. He figures he can include Sophia in that too, even if there's a thirteen year gap to make up for.

He moves up the bed to kiss her gently. She tucks against him as soon as he's settled.

"How long do you think until Logan's up here tonight?" she asks, yawning against his chest.

"I'm honestly surprised he did last night with Jesus here."

That first night, with Jesus staying at the hospital, he understands. But feeling the light touch on his arm and finding the crying boy next to the bed last night was a surprise.

"It's a good sign, right? Shows he's settled in with us as his parents."

"True enough. Need to have him meet with Denise though. Make sure we aren't missing anything."

"Jacqui suggested that Denise should train an assistant."

"If you want my honest opinion, I think she probably needs two or three cross-trained."

"I'll ask Hershel who he thinks would fit the job better." She giggles just a little, reminding him how tired she is. "Did Sophia really spawn the idea to build tunnels all over the property?"

Merle laughs. "Apparently, she got the idea from Hogan's Heroes."

That actually makes Carol roll to her back, laughing. He arches a brow, but waits until she calms.

"I used to watch it because it wasn't a 'stupid woman's show'. Sophia never seemed to get the humor, but I guess she's seen the benefit behind the slapstick. Is it really feasible?"

"If we had to dig them out and reinforce them by hand, not really. But the other part of her source material, the sewers? We can do this side of the river by the end of summer using the concrete boxes meant for sewer systems in cities. We've got several places logged that have the supplies."

He raises to an elbow, cupping a hand over her belly. "We're going to be safer the next time anyone tries to take what's ours."

"I know."

She says that with such confidence that he can't help but smile. Together, and with their family and friends, they certainly will.

It's Carol who initiates the kiss this time, but just when it's starting to get interesting, there's the expected knock at the door.

"Come in, son," he calls out. Logan's not crying tonight, but he's shivering like he's outside in winter.

Merle rolls him into the center of the bed, listening as Carol soothes him.

And tonight the boy's willing to talk.

"Walkers came here. Inside the walls."

He meets Carol's eyes, remembering the odd farewell Logan had before Merle left for Woodbury.

"We got rid of them, Logan, and we're going to fix it further, I promise." Carol smoothes the boy's blond hair and kisses his forehead.

It's hard to explain to a child that the walls failed because of human intervention, when he spent months hiding from walkers all on his own.

"How about you work with me the next few days and see exactly what we're going to do to fix that?" Merle offers.

"With building?"

"Some, but mostly with designing. Think you would like to sit in with me and Amy?"

"Really?"

"Yeah, buddy."

"Okay." Tucked against Carol's shoulder, he wriggles enough to peek at Merle. "Can you read?"

That's something he can certainly do, so he digs out the novel he's got slotted for his next book with the bedtime story group that seems to include half the household.

Logan and Carol are both asleep by the time he reaches the end of the chapter. He settles the lightweight blanket securely over them, but sleeps a longer time coming.

They survived the first big test of their security, so it's time to make sure they do even better next time. He's not so foolish as to think the Governor is the only organized monster in the dark.


	106. Family Ties

**July 4, 2011**

~*~ Jazz ~*~

Jazz parks the Polaris outside the Woodbury gate, although his mother's truck pulls all the way inside. She's got the breakfasts, along with a collection of supplies to issue to the people. It took longer to put together the welcome bags normally given, since they needed more than eighty of them.

"Remind me not to piss your mother off," Paul says, looking amused.

He laughs in response, because he supposes Carol's definitely reminding the Woodbury folks that a lot of the injured here were women and teenagers. Today's helpers with Carol in the truck are Jenny and Gia. Jenny's broken nose resulted in spectacular shiners. At least Jazz only has the one.

And Gia's prior scarring isn't something the Terminus teenager ever hides, anymore than Scout hides her burns. While the Governor isn't responsible for those, it's a reminder that the worst dangers aren't the dead. Add in the stitching from the bullet wound grazing down her arm and it's a visual reminder of who the late leader really was.

Especially since unlike Jazz himself, both girls actually look their age.

The dogs hop out of the back of the Polaris at his command. He's brought Betty, Wilma, and Bandit, because they're the size people expect dogs to be. While his mother may see the benefit in reminding these folks of the harm done to Homestead, he can't bring himself to bring the dogs involved in the battle here.

Titus estimates that these three weren't part of the attack based on the cleanup he did on all the dogs in checking for injuries. Luckily, only the Governor seems to have managed to actually shoot and hit any of the dogs.

Even if there are few who understand that the dogs mauled humans and dead both, he would feel creepy if he reminded Haley of the dogs one of the other fighters referred to as 'massive hellhounds'.

The dogs sit as directed, leaving Jazz and Paul to join the girls in passing out breakfast boxes and bags. They're almost done when one of the mothers calls out, "Are you working with the kids again today?"

He gives her the best smile he can manage with the stitches. "Today we're going to install a chicken coop in one of the yards, so yes." It took some reassurance that he really is unlikely to hit himself with his own hammer to reassure his mother that it's not the same as the building crew. "Learning to care for poultry is a good stepping stone to learning about the other animals we have here, like sheep."

"Plus we get eggs, right?" He thinks the girl's name is Eryn, and he nods.

He signals for the kids to gather up, and it doesn't even take anything more than that to have all of them bring their breakfast boxes and plop into the grassy space he used yesterday to let them handle the kittens. That'll give his mother time to meet with adults and explain their rulebooks they're receiving today.

By a headcount, he's got a good number of the teenagers over here too, but that's fine.

"Once we have a safe home for them built, we'll bring down a flock of chickens. But there's a few things to know about them. Who's ever heard someone make fun of someone and call them a chicken?"

The kids giggle.

"Well, just like people, some chickens are afraid of their own shadows, but others, they're like tiny dinosaurs. There are scientists who say that birds are dinosaurs, and if you've ever met an angry hen protecting her chicks, or a rooster just generally having a bad day, you'll agree."

"So, what does that mean? They'll chase us?" one of the boys asks.

"Sometimes, yeah. And a rooster can be especially ornery because his job is to protect the hens. We don't remove their spurs here, because they need them if they get attacked by wildlife." He tugs up his left jeans leg. "See that scar?"

He knows it's a simple scar, but it's the fact that it's scarred that will hopefully make the impression. "A rooster spurred me when I was nine. If you've ever been stung by a big red wasp, it's maybe a good comparison. If you're around chickens, and a rooster does get you, make sure you show it to an adult, because it has to be cleaned and bandaged. They can also peck or scratch."

"Can we just not have roosters?" a girl asks. "I remember in school that you don't have to have roosters to get eggs."

"You're correct on that. Hens will lay eggs all on their own, and many people just kept hens for eggs and didn't bother with roosters. But now, we can't just open a catalog and order new baby chicks or hatching eggs, so we try to keep a rooster with all the flocks of hens."

The idea of baby chicks settles a few of the worried faces.

"But the rooster we'll bring down here is pretty laid back. He even likes to be petted. But as nice as he is, you have to remember he's never truly tame and something might make him attack."

"Like how you said that teaching kittens bad habits means maybe having a mean cat instead of a good pet?"

"Exactly. Even our pets are never truly, one hundred percent tame, and each animal has a different personality."

"Respect their space and they're more likely to respect us," Eryn intones.

He smiles and nods. "What we'll do this morning is build the coop. Some parts of it will have to be me, Paul, or one of the older kids, because we have to use a power saw. But quite a bit of the work we can all take turns doing."

"Will we just get chickens?" a boy asks.

"For now, yes. Most of the yards will be turned to gardens, but eventually you'll have ducks and turkeys, maybe geese." He's not entirely sure he wants to turn geese loose around smaller kids. They just think a rooster is something to be wary of, until they've been walloped by a pissy goose.

"What about dogs?"

He wondered how long it would take them to ask about today's companions. "Most of the dogs here are working dogs. Who knows jobs that dogs can do?"

"Police dogs."

"Sheep dogs."

"Guide dogs."

"Hunting!"

"All good answers. The two dogs with the gray spotted coats are named Betty and Wilma. They're Australian Cattle Dogs, usually called blue heelers, which some of you are probably familiar with, since they're pretty popular here in Georgia. Their job here is to herd sheep, but their future babies will be trained to work with cows, deer, and any other herd animal here."

"They're going to have puppies?" He can't blame the starry eyed look the little girl gets, since he's partial to puppies himself.

"Betty will have a litter of puppies sometime in the next week. Her puppies are half German Shepherd, so they may not look like her. They'll be trained as herding dogs too. I've had Betty and Wilma since they were about six months old."

"What about the other dog?"

"That's Bandit. We're not as sure about his breed, because my uncle found him out on a run one day. The veterinarian I'm training with says he thinks he's an Australian Shepherd."

"So he's a herding dog too?"

"He could be. Aussies are good working dogs, but Bandit's happier being a pet. He lives with my uncle, aunt, and their kids instead. It's one of the important things about using dogs on a farm. Not every dog is compatible to work with animals."

He gives in to the pleading looks of the kids and calls the dogs over. Bandit eats up the attention like the fluffy goofball he is, and Betty and Wilma are kid friendly as always.

"Oh, oh, oh, I can feel the puppies!"

That exclamation has all the kids gathering, but they're being careful, so he just keeps an eye on Betty's tolerance level. Luckily, she isn't snappish like Livia is when this advanced in pregnancy, or he never would have brought her today.

One of the teens drifts closer to him though. "I heard one of the adults say that Haley was bitten by a dog."

"Noah, right?" The guy nods. "She was. We have other breeds of dogs, and one type of them is a Catahoula, a hunting breed. They've been trained to go out with our run and hunting teams to protect them. Specifically, all of them know how to take down the dead."

"They were guarding their people like they were taught." It's Haley, who smiles when Jazz looks her way.

Paul nods. "I have one of the Catahoulas at my home in Virginia. He's a sweet fellow, until he thinks something endangers me. He travels with me when we're outside the walls."

"Can I?" Haley motions to the dogs amid all the kids. "I figure it's mostly a lesson for the kids, but facing fears and all that."

"Feel free. Bandit's just a hyperactive stuffed animal, if you want to pet him first."

Thankfully, Bandit really lives up to the comparison, wallowing his way right into Haley's lap. He's partial to women and girls, so Jazz is glad to see it holds true for someone trying to overcome a fear that could become a phobia without taking care. Plus it shows the kids they don't have to fear dogs either, since they seem to be aware Haley was bitten.

The kids are all settled back with their breakfasts, with one or two still idly petting a dog while they eat. He looks over to where his mother's still meeting with the adults and figures the lesson can continue.

"Alright. Who has questions about chickens or dogs today?"

He should probably expect that Paul's going to help the kids ask the right questions, because the older man flashes him an impish grin. If it goes like yesterday, he certainly won't complain, although he's still not entirely sure how many of the questions are serious, versus helping the lesson. Either way, he appreciates the extra time he gets to spend with Paul.

~*~ Jacqui ~*~

"I'm not made of glass, Jacqui."

Jim's tone is sweet and coaxing, but she imagines he's probably a little tired of her hovering.

"I'm sorry."

He reaches out to catch her hand and tug her onto the tiny sofa next to him in their small apartment. "I don't want you to wear yourself out, sweetheart. I'm just glad to be home where I can sleep beside you in the same bed."

She agrees there. She's hated the last few nights in the uncomfortable chair next to his bed, and the girls separated from them down at Tyreese's cabin.

"It's going to sound like something reverse chauvinist, I guess, but it was supposed to be me in danger of getting shot, not you."

Jim laughs softly, reaching over to kiss her. His beard is in dire need of a good trim, so it scratches against her skin more than usual. She doesn't care. He came close enough to dying that he could grow it to a full-on mountain man beard and she would like it.

He presses a kiss to her forehead when they have to finally come up for air. "Let's try to make me being shot the only time either of us gets this experience."

"I think the girls would probably appreciate not joining Carl Grimes' club." That poor kid, having to see both his parents recover from a gunshot wound. You have to wonder about fate or karma or whatever sometimes, although at least they both lived.

"Might do a little more training, once the docs give me the all clear. I did well the other day, but a lot of it was luck."

She scoffs. "Luck and a damned RPG."

"Well, at least the movies didn't lie too much that they're fairly point and shoot?"

"I'm going to envy you that experience. Might ask Scout if we could try it sometime, far, far away from Homestead."

"Considering her habit of blowing up places she detests, she might let you go back and use whatever's left of Woodbury for target practice."

"She just might." She mulls over his idea about training some more. "I'm guessing you probably aren't the only one wanting a little extra training after all this. You going to want a class or just me and the girls?"

It's a legitimate question. Jim's not inept with weaponry or physically unfit, but he's often done the minimum exercise requirements at times he can either do them solo or just with her. The girls are usually the only lure that can get him to one of the classes.

She wishes she had a camera for the first time they got the man in a beginner yoga class. That's the day that she knew, beyond a doubt, that she could stop worrying he might be lost to the darkness.

"Jocelyn's old enough to start learning more than just exercise, isn't she?"

His expression is so dead serious that it reminds her that he had to send both girls to hide in a root cellar with just one man and two teenage boys as protection. All of the kids over five or so have had gun safety classes, but those are more cautionary than how to actually use a firearm.

"She's eleven, so yeah. Honey regularly teaches kids that young to shoot." She thinks it over. "Honestly, I wouldn't object to Brandy learning, either. At least start with the slingshot and bow."

He rubs at his beard, thinking it over. "Yeah. She's been responsible with her little knife since she got it. She respects the weapons, probably a lot more than a kid would before the dead rose."

A flicker of grief flashes across his face, but it's gone fairly quickly. "Maybe one of the lower powered air rifles to start with for Brandy. My boys loved their pellet guns from about her age onwards. I bet she'd like hunting for rabbits and squirrels with the other kids like they did."

Like most of the tidbits he's revealed, she mentally files that treasure away. It may take her years to really compile a true picture of his first family, but she's determined to do it. Jeffrey and Landon deserve to be known by the sisters they'll never meet.

One day, when Jim's ready for it, she's going to lead a team to see if his old house is still standing, and collect up all the pictures she can find of the boys and Lynette.

"I know they'd do just about anything with their daddy leading them to it."

He smiles, that soft, beautiful expression that snuck him right into her heart in the first place. "Yeah, they really would, especially if it's greasy and drives their mama round the bend trying to get it off them or their clothes."

Jacqui laughs, pressing a fast, affectionate kiss to his lips. "I swear you pour bottles of oil over them some days at the garage."

"I think it's best to plead the fifth on that one."

Surgery or not, that really does deserve the swat she gives him with one of the girls' stuffed animals.

~*~ Rick ~*~

"Dr. Carson?"

The Hilltop doctor turns when Rick calls out his name, closing the chart he was working on in the staff room. Rick knows he's been doing a consultation for Cricket of all her patients, as a reassurance to the less experienced obstetrician.

Waiting for a time when there weren't others around was tricky, and he is almost ashamed to admit he's backed out twice. He's already hedged on telling Shane exactly what he was going to the infirmary about, to the point there's no telling what his best friend thinks he was worked up about.

"Can I help you?"

He can tell the man's trying to place him in relation to the men he's met, probably mostly the fathers to the current crop of unborn babies, as well as a few of the new fathers. The man's not a pediatrician, but he seemed to want the experience with the tiny ones.

"I'm Rick. Haven't been really introduced yet, although you've met my niece, Judith."

"Call me Harlan. Much less confusion with two Dr. Carsons here right now." The older man smiles. "Can't say I get too many men seeking out my medical advice these days."

Rick shuffles his feet, reminding himself that he promised Carl he would man up and find out the truth about the long years of no sibling for his son. He still doesn't even know if Rosita wants children, although she certainly seems to enjoy spending time with their extended family.

"I know before, you had to go see a specialist, but what would you know about fertility issues?"

"For you or your partner?"

"Me. Judith's mother, Lori? She's my ex-wife. We went over a decade trying for a second baby with no success. Considering Judith, I'm guessing the difficulty is on my side of the fence."

"And I'm guessing there's a new missus in the picture?"

"Yeah. I haven't even discussed children with her, but it seemed like something I should know when that talk comes up. I've at least got Carl. She doesn't have any kids yet."

"You're correct that normally I would refer a male partner out to a specialist, but I can do an analysis and a general physical for you. Although the best person here to do a sperm analysis is probably Hershel, you do understand. As a veterinarian, he's got far more experience."

While theoretically, Rick knows that the veterinary staff handle semen and even artificially inseminate the livestock as needed, it circles back to the fact that he really prefers someone he doesn't share so much of his daily life with.

"If you encountered an issue where you needed to consult, that's fine, but I would really prefer an outside doctor."

"Understandable, I suppose." Harlan rises, carrying the medical record with him, refiling it in the nursing area. "Last name?"

"Grimes."

He flips through until he finds Rick's record and motions for him to follow him back to the staff room. Rick refrains from shifting around nervously as the man reads, but only barely.

"I would say that everything here looks in order. Aside from your occupational injury, you're in good health. Non-smoker, no drugs, healthy weight. How would you say your stress level is now, compared to before?"

Rick shrugs. "Ironically, a lot less. Between the job and the problems Lori and I had, I'm surprised I never got flagged for blood pressure on my department physicals."

"I won't repeat the actual physical again, because it looks like Hershel's been following up every three months due to your prior surgeries. At this point, I can offer you a specimen cup. You can either tuck away in one of the bathrooms here or take it home, although for the latter option, I would suggest discussing why with your partner first."

That makes Rick cough out a laugh. "Yeah, can't imagine the confusion otherwise if she came home to that." Rosita's got a really high threshold for weird, but that's something he tries not to deliberately add to.

Harlan steps out of the room and comes back with two cups and a small paper bag. "Figured you wouldn't want to just carry it through the entire infirmary no matter where you go. There are a couple of tests we can do with the ultrasound, but most men prefer to do the analysis first."

Taking the cup seems to make the worry all that much more real. "There's not much we can do if it's bad news, is there?"

"Other than advice to keep healthy and keep habits that help your body produce sperm, unfortunately no. We've retained a good amount of medication and technology so far, but infertility was difficult to treat even before. Hormones might help, and there are a couple of issues that we could probably manage surgically between Hershel and myself."

The obstetrician pauses, expression serious. "I would suggest, if it's bad news, deciding if you can handle using a sperm donor, if your partner wants to experience a pregnancy."

Rick stares at the two plastic cups, letting that sink in. Once upon a time, he would have instantly said no to that suggestion. But he's seen Daryl with three children not biologically related to him, and no one can ever say he's not as much a father to all of them as the other men involved. And he certainly doesn't love Anaya differently than Judith because she's not Shane's biological child.

"Yeah. That's definitely an option." Then he thinks about the two cups. "Why two?"

"I'll need a urine sample too. After the other is provided." Harlan's smile is soothing.

Rick doesn't bother to refrain from making a face this time, but he smiles when Harlan chuckles. "How long are you on duty, doc?"

"Until lunch, but if you need me after that, I'm happy to come back on duty."

"Yeah, hopefully, I'll be back in time." He squares his shoulders. He's a damned grown man. It's time he figured this out.

~*~ Daryl ~*~

Daryl's on his way into the infirmary when Merle intercepts him at the door, one hand firmly on his left bicep.

He's got a bag with some of her things, since the doctors are optimistic she'll be released as long as she stays in one of the little apartments closer to the infirmary for a few days. She accepted the compromise, so he ran down to the cabin to pack up enough things for her for the next three or four days. He liked the idea of Michonne's old apartment because it means Denise is right upstairs and Christopher in the next building.

But one look at his brother's face tells him the issue he's been avoiding since the incident in the infirmary is no longer avoidable. There's no other reason for Merle to wear that level of disappointment in his expression.

"Go see your wife for a few minutes, and then we need to take a walk."

Merle lets his arm go, and he thinks he would rather be shouted at or take a punch than endure that look.

"Okay."

What else can he say?

"And Daryl? The worst part is you didn't tell me yourself. I don't know why none of the kids spoke up, but I had to hear about it from Hershel."

"I'm sorry." He wonders if this is how Merle felt, waking up from the fog of the drugs and facing all his family gathered around him. He wants to crawl right out of his skin from the shame of it.

"Go. Before I decide to have the conversation in front of your wife."

He certainly doesn't want Lori as agitated as she'll be when she does find out. She loves all his family, but Jazz is definitely a special favorite.

Worse than Lori though, is that he knows at the end of that walk, Merle's likely leading him to answer to Carol too. It's been a long time since he had to face parental disappointment.

He deserves every bit of it, so he'll face it like a man, instead of a crazy person who added more trauma to his already rattled nephew's horrific day.


	107. Personal Growth

**July 4, 2011**

~*~ Daryl ~*~

Merle's waiting on Daryl outside the infirmary, as promised. He leads the way toward Carol's office, and about the only thing worse than that idea is Lori finding out.

He hasn't actually been inside Carol's office since it was customized for her months ago. Rarely has he needed to go past dropping off inventory or other requests into the desk Lori and Patricia share. She's definitely made it her own, with pretty plants and additions to the family pictures she started out with.

Carol's at her desk, and he realizes how much of a front she's likely putting up on her visits to the hospital. Or maybe it's just she's that upset with him, because she looks a lot more like the Carol from the quarry right now. Exhausted, weary, disappointed.

Maybe the first two are due to everything since the attack, but he's damned certain the last is due to him.

She looks up, filing away whatever needed her attention. The sigh's a big one, moving her whole upper torso with the exhalation.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She flicks a glance to Merle. "Or Merle."

"Didn't want to think about how bad wrong it could have gone." While he hasn't talked to Jazz aside from the single apology in the ward itself, he is kept well appraised of the teenager's condition by his wife.

"I haven't seen Jazz to talk to him yet, so we just have Hershel's version from talking to him. Care to clarify?"

He manages to get the explanation out, trying not to make any excuses. He's not even entirely clear on the whole incident. He's not sure if it was donating blood, the stress of the day, or both, but the main thing he remembers is the rage, followed by complete panic because of Jazz's earlier injuries.

Carol sighs again, and his mind scatters onto the wayward thought that she would have made a terrifying school principal. Not because he'd be scared of her, but because that disappointed look makes him look for the nearest rock to crawl under.

"I noticed he's been avoiding Lori's room except when you're gone," she says, "but I thought he was just trying to give you time off. Instead, he's actively avoiding you, isn't he?"

"Probably. If he doesn't want to talk, he makes sure he doesn't have to." That's a personality trait Jazz adopted early on as a child, and it certainly hasn't changed since he's nearing adulthood. He just replaced hiding in random places he was unlikely to be found, like laundry hampers or linen closets, to roaming the property and using the expanse of the acreage to hide.

Merle stirs from where he's in the doorway of the office. "If that's how he wants to handle it, I'm not going to force him otherwise, but you owe the boy an apology better than the one you say you gave."

"Daryl, him hitting the floor like that, if his ribs were broken instead of bruised…" Carol trails off.

She doesn't really have to tell him that one. Ribs can puncture lungs or other organs. Hell, part of why they took so much of Lori's liver was all the bone fragments in it.

"I know. I can't make it up to him."

"No, you can't, not really. But it's not the first time you've done something really dangerous when you were grieving, Pookie."

The nickname feels like a blow of sorts, Carol still being sweet when he doesn't deserve it.

"You're talking about the quarry."

"Yes. Although at least Jazz didn't have to disarm you on top of restraining you. We would be having an entirely different conversation if that happened."

He would deserve to be _horsewhipped_ if that happened.

"We want you to set up a regular schedule with Denise." He turns to look at Merle, who is as serious as he's ever seen him. "If you lost it back on the job like that, you know they would send you to the shrink. Difference here is that I'm ordering it, not your boss."

"Counseling." He can't say he really wants to argue, as distasteful as the idea is thanks to the idiot therapist he saw as a teenager. Denise is far brighter than that woman on her slowest day. "Alright."

Carol leaves her desk, rounding it to pull him into an unexpected hug. "You would never live with yourself if you hurt someone like that, family or not."

He returns the hug as tightly as he dares, drawing comfort from her closeness. She's right. Even back when he didn't know Rick and barely liked Shane, if Shane didn't have the training to stop him, he really could have hurt either one of them. His life would be nowhere near where it is now if that happened.

He'll take all the sessions Denise thinks he needs. Losing it like that risks more than just the initial situation, and he can't lose any of his family again.

~*~ Rick ~*~

Rick knows there are worse times he's spent waiting in a hospital chair. Lori's recent injury, his mother's cancer… his dad's fatal heart attack. But this feels like a different sort of crisis, and he's regretting not waiting until Rosita is aware of why he's seeing the doctor.

He considered going down to the garage, but they're short handed, so interrupting her work seems selfish. The time restriction here is one of his own making, by insisting on seeing Harlan Carson instead of Hershel. He's heard enough of random conversation between the veterinary staff to know Harlan was right that Hershel really could do the same analysis.

The blond man returns to the little corner Rick's hidden out in, his expression rather grave.

"Not good news then, doc?"

"It's not terrible news, but no, it's not good." Harlan tugs a chair so he's facing Rick. "The good news is, there's sperm and it's viable."

"And the bad news?"

"The count's low enough I don't think you'll conceive without assistance."

"Don't think IVF's really on the table anymore." Or so he understands, because that's why Scout can't have children with someone else carrying them for her.

"While IVF would improve your chances, obviously, your count falls into a range where regular artificial insemination would probably suffice."

"The difference being?"

"The difference is how Cricket Dixon conceived versus an embryo in a petri dish."

"And nothing we can do to fix it?"

"Well, there's a few more tests we can run to look for blockages or other physical barriers. Earlier, I said that we probably couldn't fix any issues there, but I've had a look at the operating room here since then and dug into the medical library liberated from Emory. There are a few things we could try, but we'll need to run tests first."

"Might as well get the answers, even if there's no real fix." At this point, having gone this far, he has to know, even if Rosita never wants any children.

"Keep in mind that even the fixes will be done by surgeons outside their speciality. I think the closest we have here would be Hershel, so hopefully, you don't have any particular objections to a veterinarian being involved."

"As long as the aim isn't neutering," Rick jokes, because what else do you really say?

Harlan laughed. "We'll try not to defeat the purpose quite that way. Let's go ahead and figure the rest out."

Rick follows him to the big ultrasound room, accepting the hospital gown with a sigh, He suspects he's really not going to appreciate this process.

~*~ Shane ~*~

When Shane arrives at his cabin to shower the day's funk off him before supper, he spots his best friend slumped in the chair on the porch. Nothing about Rick's posture says good news, so he tenses, wondering what's gone wrong. Rick took off for an infirmary visit, and Shane didn't entirely believe the 'oh it's nothing, not really' discussion one bit.

So, he ignores the lure of the shower and drops into the other chair, just watching his best friend quietly.

"Once upon a time, you couldn't have sat five minutes without asking me what was wrong," Rick says at last. "You've learned patience in the last year."

"You did always tell me that being a husband and father called for a lot of patience. Babysitting me probably multiplied it for you, but I'm learning."

Rick tries to laugh, but his heart isn't in it. He keeps rubbing his hands against the knees of his jeans, and it's starting to worry Shane.

"Rick? Not much you could say that I wouldn't be right by your side for."

"Remember all those excuses I made, all those years, not to see that specialist in Atlanta Lori wanted me to see?"

It takes Shane longer than it should to connect the dots, but he gets there. "The fertility doc?"

"Yeah. Figured it'd be easier to ask questions of a doctor I'm not eating supper with half the week."

Shane supposes that's true. Personally, Hershel's done a full physical on all the men here already. He figures after that exam, there's not much he wouldn't bring to the veterinarian. But he's always had more confidence in his body image than Rick and a less sheltered upbringing about sex.

"I guess it would be weird deciding between the vet or the obstetrician…"

Rick smiles at the light teasing, so at least he's finding his sense of humor on whatever this is. "Turns out, after a few tests I would prefer to never repeat again, that Carl was a bit of a fluke, most likely. But if I'm willing to be a bit of a guinea pig, they could maybe do a surgical repair that would help out."

"Like when the guy at the fire station had his vasectomy reversed?" That's the closest Shane's ever heard to anything involving the male half a couple, but then again, this is Georgia. Men typically aren't going to get chatty about surgery involving the reproductive organs.

"Different area of the body, but sorta. It's a surgical fix, and from what Harlan explained, he thinks they could still pull it off. Problem is, no one here has a urology specialization."

"So back to the vet and the obstetrician?"

"Pretty much. And needing to do something now, in case we don't have the ability later."

Shane thinks it over, knowing Rick's inaction in the years married to Lori is probably haunting his best friend. More kids probably wouldn't have improved the marriage, but there's no way of knowing how much this one simple thing added to why it withered away and died.

"The surgery guaranteed to fix it?" Shane knows nothing medical is ever a guarantee, but there's a reason for the odds.

"Harlan couldn't say. Said there's different studies, but the last one he remembered after sending a patient off to a specialist was maybe a fifty percent increase. Right now, he says I could father a child if I was willing to try insemination, like Cricket. Might still need to try it with the surgery, but it would improve the odds of just letting it happen naturally."

Rick trails off and sighs. "The other option was just to consider going straight to a donor."

"There's a lot of men who couldn't deal with that, but you're not one of them, brother." Shane shifts his weight in the chair, turning to get a better look at Rick. "You talked to Rosita yet?"

Rick shakes his head. "No. Came straight here from the infirmary. Needed to let it settle in."

"Rick, if you're worried about Lori, I'm pretty sure she's long buried any resentment she would normally have. Having Judith and being told she can have more? Definitely a cure."

"There's that, feeling guilty that I could have fixed it for her, or at least made the effort. I remember months where she would just cry because her damned period came before she gave up on those ovulation kits and charts. Funny thing is, I didn't even do it because of Rosita."

"Then why?"

"Because I wanted to prove to Carl that a man shouldn't shirk health care because it's uncomfortable. He's smart enough to do the math like everyone else here about why it took so long for him to get a sibling. Told me I should get my ducks in a row, more or less."

Shane huffs out a breath, long and low. "Well, that there's your best explanation if you tell Lori. You doing something to help Carl or be a role model? You're gold."

"I suppose you're right there. The happiest she's ever been with me was always due to Carl." Rick manages a smile. "I'd ask if you thought it was too soon to discuss babies when Rosita and I haven't even discussed marriage, but you married a woman you met two months prior."

"Call it the honeymoon stage, Rick, but it's the best impulsive decision I ever made in my life."

"I know. You're happy now. Settled like I always wanted to be."

"Rosita makes you happy. No sense putting it off for some arbitrary time span. And nothing says you gotta get married to have a baby. No one here's going to look at you sideways. Look at Abraham and Michonne."

Rick stands, so Shane follows. The bear hug that follows reminds Shane of just how many bullets - literal and figurative - they dodged to reach this point. He just hopes that the tentative hope for the future he sees taking hold in his best friend gets to grow as much as his own did.

~*~ Carol ~*~

Carol steps into the community center, spotting her son exactly where she expects him to be prior to supper being served. He's packing items into a box that are on a list she left to temporarily stock the fridge in the borrowed apartment for Lori and her family.

"Jasper. Can I speak to you before you take that over to your aunt?"

"Sure, Mama." He passes the list over to Jesus, who looks curious, but continues checking off items.

Carol leads him into the big pantry. With supper done, there's little need for anyone to be in here. With Sophia, especially Sophia free of their old life, the child would be squirming with worry about a private conversation. Jazz just looks at her patiently.

"Hershel told your dad and me about what happened in the infirmary with Daryl. Why didn't you tell me or your dad?"

Jazz shrugs. "No one got hurt, not really. And there were a lot of other things going on."

"You're not upset with Daryl?"

She likes the fact that he thinks it over first. "More because I could have hurt him than anything else. That makes me really frustrated with him."

"I was worried because it seems like you've been avoiding him."

Her son sighs, rubbing at the back of his neck as if it itches. "I am. But I didn't want to argue with him while Tiha's still recovering. I don't think he agrees with letting the fighters go free."

It's rather sweet of him, that he's dodging the argument for a low-stress environment for Lori.

"We did have a talk with Daryl about it. He didn't mention any issues about the fighters, but I'll have your father check in with him. He wouldn't be the only one objecting, but as long as everyone keeps the peace, that's all we can ask."

"Good. Because I would do the same thing again." Based on the determination in his eyes, she thinks he would. "He's lucky I didn't have a taser like Honey did."

Dear God in Heaven. "Hershel didn't tell us that part."

"He kept fighting me, and I thought I was going to hurt him. Shane said you have to be really careful with any restraint hold, especially if you're bigger and stronger than the person you're holding."

Jazz rubs at his neck again and Carol wonders idly just how much time he has spent with Shane that he's picked up one of his mannerisms. Based on his admission that he put down a fully grown man with a law enforcement maneuver, she's guessing a lot.

But it's not like they didn't give permission for Scout and Shane to push Jazz's training beyond the usual for his age group. Thank God they did, because it probably saved his life during the attack. She can't imagine him not being out there fighting with people to protect.

"So, he kept fighting and Honey threatened him?"

"Yeah. But he noticed my stitches popped and that really freaked him out. He's the one who sent me to go get the X-rays done of everything."

She thinks she's starting to understand why Merle will mutter he's too damned old for this shit on a regular basis. Now she's got another of their offspring to go touch base with, although as vocal about everything as Honey is, she would think everyone in Homestead would know if that particular child was pissed off.

There's so little to be said here. Jazz seems to consider the matter done and over with. Daryl's already agreed he crossed the line and will work to make sure there's not a repeat of it.

So she just offers a hug, smiling as he steps into it without any hesitation, wrapping his arms around her. "You get any taller, son, and I'll be able to ride in your pocket."

His answering laughter really warms the heart.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

Jesus wakes to the same thing that's roused him the last three nights. Well, the second thing.

The first round is always Logan stumbling toward the stairs. He's happy enough for Jesus to read to him before bed and cuddle close, but once he's back in his old bed, and the nightmare comes, he wants his parents.

But when it's Jazz having the nightmare, he doesn't seek out his family upstairs. Instead he makes his way to the television area and reads until he can be up and about without disturbing anyone. The disruption in his routine is part of it, because he's used to having a pretty steady schedule. As much as Carol's tried to cobble a new one together, he thinks it suits Jazz like a scratch wool suit right now.

He follows silently to the sectional, but instead of taking a seat nearby, like they always sat on his couch back at Hilltop, he says Jazz's name softly.

When he's got his attention, he hates the exhaustion he can see setting in. Even youth only carries you so far on so little sleep. "Can we try something?"

"Sure."

"Lay down."

Once Jazz is stretched out on the sectional, and thankfully it's a massive enough one to accommodate his height, Jesus takes one of the blankets and begins to tuck it around him as tight as he can.

"This hasn't been working." It's a mournful statement, another issue in the disruption of Jazz's life.

"Gonna try what worked the last time you slept all night." Jesus is reasonably certain it'll be taken as innocent as intended by any observers.

Jazz frowns, grimacing at the pull on the healing facial wound and then makes the connection. "Oh."

Jesus kneels next to the couch. "You good with that?"

"Yeah."

He settles in, the width of the sectional making it a far tighter fit than the hospital bed, so he has to turn on his side. It doesn't seem to bother Jazz, although it doesn't allow Jesus to be the pillow this time. Jazz tucks his face into the soft, exposed skin at the junction of neck and shoulder and sighs softly as Jesus puts his free arm around him.

"This good?" He's got Jazz crowded against the back of the couch. Part of him can't see how it wouldn't set off a sensory overload due to the touch, but from what he read in the book Merle gave him today, this should help.

"Yeah, it really is." Jazz sounds surprised, but sleepy. "You're so warm."

He laughs as quietly as he can. "Most people are."

"Harder to notice with kids."

Probably not, considering ones like Judith are so tiny in comparison..

"How's your cheek feeling?"

"Like I got hit in the face." But Jesus can feel the smile against his skin. Smartass. It makes Jesus smile too. "Not enough for meds though."

"You realize the girls are really going to amp up the admiration. Scars are cool sometimes."

Jazz is quiet enough, long enough that he thinks he miscalculated the teasing.

"Jazz?"

"I don't want girls like that looking."

Jesus remembers that first night here, where he wondered if Jazz's looks bothered him as much as Jesus's got to him sometimes.

"All girls, or just the superficial ones?"

"The superficial ones, I guess. Ones like Beth don't stare or make remarks. They don't push or touch when they shouldn't."

It takes every ounce of control he has to not react to that sleepy admission. "Jasper? Is that something that happens?"

"Not anymore."

At least there's that much, assuming he's meaning since the dead rose.

"What happened, before?" He isn't as successful with regulating his voice this time.

Jazz rouses from the really sleepy state. "Not like that. Just grabbing my arm or pressing themselves close. Most of them were too afraid of my sister."

That explains Honey's rather vengeful stories about her last year of high school. He can imagine she would have been ferocious in reeducating any girl who persisted beyond what was probably a gentle brush off from him.

"I can picture exactly why they would be."

"Sometimes I feel selfish."

Considering Jazz is one of the least selfish people he's ever known, that is puzzling. "Why?"

"Because all this happened, Honey didn't leave home."

Ah. "She wasn't going very far though, not even to Atlanta."

"But she was still leaving and it was going to be like everyone else but Dad. Calls once a week, maybe. Emails. Skype now and then." He sighs. "And I would be gone by the time she graduated."

'And now she's essentially in the backyard indefinitely."

"Everyone came home. And we found my mother and all the rest of the new family."

Jesus can agree there. Even if he doesn't live here, he knows there are people who love him here. He's quiet lomg enough Jazz speaks again.

"I'm going to be the one leaving, so that's selfish too."

"Not really. No one expects you to be the little brother forever."

He knows all the northern communities are angling for one of the veterinary students to move north. He's selfish himself, because he hopes it is Jazz despite putting that distance between him and his family.

Jazz wriggles a bit, getting his arm free. "Can I?'

Even in the very dim light from a nightlight nearby, Jesus can tell the emotion is Jazz wanting to put an arm around his waist.

He catches Jazz's wrist and settles the arm across him. "That good?"

"Yeah." Jazz flexes his hand, rubbing along Jesus's spine briefly, before gripping the shirt fabric lightly.

"Get some sleep, if you can." He chances moving his own arm upward, rubbing along Jazz's spine through the wrapped blanket.

He's grateful it works, because he can feel the tension drain out of the younger male.

"Good night, Paul." It's sleepy, almost inaudible.

"Sleep well, Jasper."

It takes him longer to fall back asleep than Jazz, because he wants to enjoy the closeness all he can. Who knew it would take a platonic cuddle to keep nightmares at bay to show him that all of the physical relationships he had before pale in comparison.


	108. Second Chances Are Rare

**July 8, 2011**

~*~ Carol ~*~

One advantage of being married to a man who is avoiding all alcohol is that Carol is a deft hand at imitation drinks now. The bachelorette has actual wine, and a vintage that would have cost the average person a week's pay before.

It's shared with a few ladies who aren't expecting, nursing, or in Lori's case, nursing and on medical ban. But out of the original quarry ladies, with everyone here except Amy, only Jacqui can actually drink.

Looking around the room seems to make Jacqui think the same, because she starts laughing. "This is one of those scenarios where they say something's in the water. I tell you, ladies, most of me is glad that time of my life is gone."

Lori giggles. "Babies at a bachelorette party. Definitely not a thing you used to see."

Judith's fallen asleep in Donna's arms. The woman's Jacqui's partner on their supply team, and her children are both grown. Donna smiles down at her sleeping party buddy.

"I can't say I don't prefer this to the bar crawl we did before my wedding."

"Careful, Donna. That's how you catch baby fever." Jacqui's got a teasing glint in her eyes.

"Oh, that ship's sailed far far away, and the boys better not be in a hurry to make me a grandma."

"I dunno. Carol's rocking the grandma gig." Andrea smirks as she states it, eying Carol's rounded belly.

"Isn't pregnant grandma some sort of Jeff Foxworthy joke?" Carol asks, teasing.

"Nah, you're more of the trophy wife to the midlife crisis," Jacqui quips. "Guy's nearing fifty, married himself a pretty young wife barely older than his grown daughters…"

Carol smacks her with a pillow for that one.

"Well, I know tonight is supposed to be some blowout of a last night of freedom, but honestly, feels like a formality," Jacqui says, sipping her wine.

"I remember thinking about the same thing at Christmas."

Lori giggles, wincing as it pulls against her still healing abdomen. "You spent your bachelorette night shacked up with Merle, so no kidding."

Lori's own wedding barely skimmed any traditions by a similar group to tonight's gathering, except instead of wine, it was cheesy rom coms. Carol enjoys that the 'quarry ladies' plus a few extras try to have every few weeks, even more often than not if it's just her, Lori, and Jacqui. Her former self at the quarry would be baffled by her current self being settled next to Lori and loving her as family.

There's a roar of riotous laughter heard even through the glass doors and windows.

"I can't believe Merle's brave enough to host that large a camp out," Lori says.

Carol rises and goes to the window to look past the deck. Merle has easily two dozen kids on the grassy expanse behind the house. There's still signs in the distance of the attack, scars from the wreckage dragged away. The garage is only a memory now.

But he insists that the kids won't move beyond the attack if coddled, and he's backed by their resident psychiatrist, so backyard camp out it is.

"They're playing freeze tag, I think. At least I hope that's why some of the kids are posing like that."

"Do you see my girls?" With Jim having a quiet gathering of the garage crew, Jacqui brought the girls to the camp out.

"Yeah. One's belly crawling to unfreeze the other."

"It's a miracle how well they get along," Jacqui says. "Wish my brothers were similar at that age."

The two orphans' sunny personalities despite their losses in a world gone crazy is part of why Carol suggested that Jacqui and Jim consider adopting them. From the way Jim's healing from losing his family picked up pace, it was a good suggestion.

"Might have been different, raising them now," Patricia suggests. "All the kids I've adopted here are much less volatile toward each other than when I fostered in the past."

Carol thinks on it, and she realizes none of the kids living in the house have had the kind of angsty blowups common among siblings or close relatives. When she turns from the window, she can see the others mulling it over and nodding.

"Maybe it helps that they aren't regimented the same way as before. Practical schooling, lots of exercise, chores that tend to get them complimented by the adults around them."

That's from Karen, and Carol supposes it fits the situation, especially coming from a former school teacher. Karen shrugs when everyone looks at her.

"Think about it. The kids and teenagers are all stuffed in a one-size-fits-all classroom and told to survive it, or they'll never make anything of themselves. We don't do that here."

"Huh. You're onto something there." Jacqui holds out her glass, smiling as Carol refills it. "Haven't had one of these before, but aren't we supposed to be making remarks about the male of the species?"

Everyone laughs and Carol takes a seat. Andrea takes up the challenge by starting up a conversation about rescuing a celebrity for a night that quickly turns into exactly the sort of X-rated discussion Jacqui joked about.

~*~ Shane ~*~

Much like Shane's own bachelor party, celebrating the night before his wife's best friend's marriage is a low-key affair. Homemade pizza, liquor, and the _A Knight's Tale_ movie are the theme. He thought the movie an odd choice until Scout mentioned it was the last one they saw together before high school graduation. Apparently, she and Christopher shared a mutual celebrity crush on Heath Ledger.

After sending the girls up to the big camp out, the small Walsh cabin is a little crowded. It's a motley crew: Christopher's teammates from his original supply run team, plus the ones he shared with Scout, plus Denise, his brother Bryce, and Cricket. Rick was invited, but since he's only a day post-op, he turned it down.

It's the first mixed gender attendee bachelor party Shane's ever attended, but then again, it's also the first one he's ever attended thrown by the groom-to-be's ex-girlfriend. To make that even more ironic and entertaining, Honey teamed up with Tim's former coworker from the Marshals to set up a celebration for the other half of the couple.

The movie's done, and almost everyone has left except for the two brothers and Daryl. Shane's feeling content, lazy, and warm due to Christopher's tip that vodka has no scent. He's a bit of an idiot for not thinking of it sooner, when it's not him drinking that bothers Scout, but the scent of the alcohol on his breath.

"You're looking awfully thoughtful for bachelor party, brother," Christopher says, reaching up to yank on his brother's leg from where he's sprawled on the floor near Bryce's chair.

The former cop shrugs, giving his brother a half-hearted smile. "It is a little tamer than I expected you would pull off."

Christopher pretends to pout. "Scout wouldn't let me talk her husband into playing stripper, sorry."

While Shane's sputtering a little at the thought, Scout waves a hand in dismissal from where she's seated on the floor between his feet. "I've been in strip clubs with you before, Kit."

It gets real laughter from Bryce and Daryl, so Shane's torn between wanting to know and not.

Then the younger of the two Roberts' brothers sits up, too alert for the amount of alcohol Shane knows he's put away. He's intent on Bryce's hands, snagging them both, but focusing on the left hand.

"You took your ring off."

"Yeah." Bryce rubs at his left hand, obviously not used to the missing jewelry yet. "It was time."

"Anything to do with a pretty quartermaster from Hilltop?"

Shane wonders that himself. The fact that Bryce spent the entire Hilltop construction trip essentially living with Olivia ended up hot gossip among the Dixon family. But when the widower's ring stayed on, it died out. Bryce may not be ensconced in Shane's day-to-day life as much as his brother is, but he knows all of his in-laws keep an eye out on him.

Bryce doesn't answer immediately, which has both Scout and Daryl moving from lazy interest to alertness.

"Bryce?"

"About half of it. The other half is that it's just time. Nora never would have liked that I hung onto it this long."

Christopher nods. "She wanted you to have a family that wasn't just me and Mom and holiday visits from Amber's family." It goes unspoken that that last bit is changed, Shane supposes, considering Bryce is raising his orphaned niece.

Bryce reaches out and ruffles his brother's hair, making it stand on end. "She would have been overjoyed to see you getting hitched, you know. Never met anyone more pissed that the law didn't allow it that wasn't actually gay."

"Well, if she were here, we really would have needed strippers." Christopher looks a little damp around the eyes. "Who do you think used to go to the clubs with me after Scout enlisted?"

The conversation's almost too personal between the brothers now, and Shane hopes he never has to speak of Scout in a past tense like the men are about Nora. Hell, he doesn't want to consider being on Christopher's side of the conversation with any of the various siblings-in-law he's acquired.

Scout shifts around, moving to sit beside him on the couch so she's closer to Bryce. "You said Olivia was half of the reason. Are you thinking about going up to Hilltop?"

"I won't say that I haven't, but that's a serious decision to make with just a little bit of time here and there together. I don't want to uproot Audrey or take her away from family, but at the same time, I don't want to leave her either."

Ouch. There's an angle Shane hasn't considered. Poor Carl, if they do both go north. He's still enamored of his first girlfriend with the sort of dedication innate to Grimes men.

"Move doesn't have to be permanent. You could take Audrey up, stay a month, see how things go," Scout suggests.

Christopher nods. "It's a good time for it too. I know the others are returning to Virginia on Sunday, but Jesus is staying behind for another month or so. If you leave Sunday, there will already be a trip planned for later."

"Could go talk to Jesus and get a feel for the idea, both from a standpoint of being a new resident there and far as I know, those two are buddies," Shane suggests.

Bryce nods. "Yeah, partly because of council and partly because Enid seems to have adopted him as a stray older brother." He thinks it over for a moment. "Audrey and Enid got along well when she visited, so there's that, too."

"I'm not trying to get rid of you, you know," Christopher says quietly. "But this sure as hell isn't the world to let anything good and precious pass you by on technicalities like geography. I'll even run interference with Mom."

Ah hell. That's an aspect Shane's glad he doesn't have to deal with. Since Alaina's attempt to sabotage his relationship with Scout early on, Shane avoids the older woman like the plague. It's a mutual avoidance too, because he's pretty sure Scout chewed the woman's ass for the incident.

"And if Audrey doesn't like it up there? She's not going to want to live with Alaina again."

"She can live with me and Tim. He can turn her into his next sniper protege."

Daryl's been quiet the whole time, but he speaks at last. "We'll get Kit's ass moving on building a place if you go, just in case."

While Christopher has a designated lot down here amid all the Dixon cabins, he's never shown any interest in building yet. He and Tim moved from separate apartments into a bigger one together rather than build.

Bryce glances between the three folks who know him well and finally smiles. "How about I actually pose the question to the lady if she even wants me up there for a visit first?"

That makes them all laugh, and Bryce gets to his feet along with Daryl, and offers a hand to his brother still sitting on the floor. "C'mon, baby brother. You can borrow the top bunk from Audrey so she knows you're pretending to follow wedding traditions."

His brother's physical support proves needed when Christopher's balance shows he's a few drinks beyond tipsy. Bryce transfers him temporarily to Scout, who shares a long, lingering hug with the blond before turning him back over to his brother.

Daryl bids Scout and Shane both a quiet goodbye before trailing after the brothers toward his temporary home.

Scout winds her arms around his neck. "It seems we're having a rare child free Friday night, Mister Walsh."

He grins. He was careful to keep his drinking to a warm buzz just for that reason. It's been a long, stressful week filled with righting the property during the day and keeping nightmares at bay for Anaya and Abby at night. At least Judy's too young to know how awful the attack was.

"I do believe you're right, Mrs. Walsh." He catches a flash of her grinning before he kisses her with all the fervor of not having any private time for over a week.

The advantage of such a small cabin is the very short path to bed once she wraps her long legs around his waist.

~*~ Eugene ~*~

Eugene watches as Honey covers Tim with a lightweight blanket after their guests are gone. The sniper isn't under the influence, just tired enough he dozed off during the second movie of the low-key bachelor party. Out of respect for Tim's ongoing sobriety, Honey kept the party alcohol-free, and Eugene finds he doesn't miss it.

Not that he has a lot of bachelor parties to compare it to, but being sober as he climbs the stairs behind his girlfriend is always best accomplished with a clear and appreciative mind.

She flutters around their bedroom, getting ready for bed, and he watches her from the bed. His own night routine is much simpler, which he likes because of being able to just lie here and watch her.

"Not too weirded out by hosting a bachelor party for someone I used to sleep with?" she asks, dropping the last of her hair bling into the jewelry box she keeps them in.

"I would not be adverse to you having the party even if you were still sleeping with him, so long as his partner was aware." He's not sure why he answers with such bald-faced honesty, but it doesn't seem to offend her as he feared.

Instead, she's smiling and far more alert than he would expect at this hour. She crawls onto the bed to sit facing him. "Angling for a threesome?"

He swallows hard, unsure if the answer will offend her. "Looking for one specifically, no. But should you be interested in such an endeavor and had someone appropriate in mind, I wouldn't be opposed."

She tilts her head, looking thoughtful. "Even if it were someone like Tim? Someone male?"

Since he opened this particular can of worms, he owes it to her to answer truthfully. "Someone of my own gender would not be an uncomfortable consideration. I am uncertain as to whether I would find them directly attractive, but I would be willing to explore that with you."

If he's entirely honest with himself, he knows he would have accepted the offer to join Rosita and Abraham, if asked, in any capacity asked. Anything with Honey would be so much better than that because he wouldn't be the temporary outsider.

"Is that a serious answer or just because you think I'm into the idea?" She's being cautious, he can tell, reaching out to curl gentle fingers around his bicep.

He supposes she's accepted all his other quirks with either delight or aplomb. "I used to watch Abraham and Rosita quite frequently when they were having sex."

"Huh. That must have been a gorgeous sight. Rosita's got those fantastic boobs and legs, and Abraham's fit for his age. I think I might be jealous."

Eugene nearly melts from relief that she not only accepts the voyeurism, but she seems encouraging of the practice. "You would be correct on both their attributes. It was better than any pornography I ever experienced."

"Live and in color and unscripted, yeah, I bet." She moves in closer, smiling impishly. "I feel like I missed out on a very unique birthday present for you back in June."

"Considering I still have quite erotic dreams about my birthday, I am happy with what did occur." Just the memory is enough to arouse him even now.

"Perhaps a Christmas present then, or maybe no special occasion at all."

That spawns a host of scenarios in his head. Just because he's learned to be respectful in his studies of others' physical attributes, it doesn't mean he doesn't still notice, analyze, and wonder. Fantasies are healthy, and he knows Honey's equally enamored of such people watching.

It's that prior admission of hers that let him work up to tonight's admission about his old habit.

She grins and kisses him. "I see I sent your mind down the right path."

As much as she likes to tease him with suggestive talk, he rarely needs it to have his interest in her body go on alert. It's as simple as a kiss or a touch like her fingers trailing through his chest hair like they are right now.

He doesn't state the obvious, but instead reaches for the hem of her shirt. If she follows through with the idea of sharing their bed with someone, he'll figure it out his level of interest when the time comes. For now, it's her and him, and he's got the rest of his time on the planet to revel in the smoothness of her caramel skin and how her body fits against him.

~*~ Jim ~*~

The night before his first wedding, Jim was so intoxicated, it's a miracle he made it to the church the next day. At twenty-three, an alcohol-fueled bash was the height of celebrating a man's last night of so-called freedom. Tonight, the celebration was just a few friends, mostly coworkers, although T-Dog fetched Dale to the cabin, wheelchair and all.

The others have left except T-Dog and Dale. Axel's got a wedding of his own tomorrow, Rosita was anxious to get back to where Rick was recuperating, and Denova's pregnancy is at the stage where he's surprised she didn't fall asleep during the second poker game.

Jim slides cups of coffee in front of both of the men he's been with since the quarry. Everyone drank except Dale and Denova, but one hungover wedding is Jim's limit. It's a miracle Lynnette still married him that day, and he certainly doesn't want to disappoint Jacqui or the girls tomorrow.

"You ready for tomorrow?" Dale asks. He's healing well, although slowly due to his age.

"To be entirely honest, I've been ready a while. Just couldn't get over being embarrassed at how long I leaned on her."

"I suppose it is the true test of a partnership, to weather a storm of the magnitude you were dealing with when you met Jacqui."

Jim snorts. "It's a true test of a woman's fortitude. I figure if Jacqui managed to love me through all that, best I can repay it is to promise I'm in it for the long run too."

His memory isn't always the clearest in the worst of the depressive moods, and Jacqui did her damndest to hide the tears and stress it put on her. He still doesn't entirely feel he deserves this second chance at marriage and family, but if they want him… love him… who is he to question their judgement?

"The girls must be over the moon," T-Dog says. "All this wedding talk has Meghan dropping some hints the size of boulders, though."

Dale and Jim both laugh at him.

"I can't say I haven't wondered when that day would come," Dale admits.

The younger man shrugs. "Longest relationship I had before was less than a year. I promised myself I would ask her as soon as we made it to a year. She's dealt with a marriage not working out before."

"Want some advice from someone who kept putting it off?" Jim asks.

When T-Dog nods, he continues. "The second that bullet hit me out there, it didn't even really hurt, not at first. Got back to my feet and Anthony got the pressure bandage on. That whole trek to the infirmary, dodging all the chaos? All I could think of was that I was too late again."

He sees the hesitation about the 'again', and while T-Dog refrains, Dale doesn't. "Again?"

Only Jacqui knows exactly what happened to his family, and the rest know because she's given them the basic overview.

"I was at work when things started going really bad. Needed the money and the boss wasn't shutting down unless the government locked the doors on him." He feels the wave of revulsion well up on him and tamps down on it.

"By the time I got home, our street was nearly overrun. I couldn't get to them, and I couldn't save them, and in the end, I ran because there was nothing else to do."

No matter how far his recovery goes, he'll always hear those echoes in his mind. He's spent the past year layering new experiences in with them. It took him a long time to wake up and realize Lynnette would never forgive him if he rejoined them before it was his due time.

"Had to go under the knife here without seeing Jacqui or the girls. Went to sleep with that on my mind and woke up knowing it was time to make sure they have no doubts about me being with them for the long run."

"I admit to similar thoughts when we were shutting down the watch stations," Dale says, tone subdued and thoughtful. "Not of Irma, rest her soul, but of Amy and Andrea and how grown or not, they seem to really want to have me as a father figure in their life still."

Considering he saw even staunchly independent Andrea weeping happily when Dale woke, Jim's not surprised.

"And you'll be a grandfather before too long," Jim reminds him. Dale's answering smile is a warm one. Jim thinks that little boy's going to be the most spoiled child on the property once he arrives.

His sons will never make him a grandfather now, and while his daughters may one day, the fact that his bloodline ends with him doesn't worry him the way it might have before. Concerns like that mean so little these days, especially since the legacy isn't in the veins but in the minds left behind.

"So, you're both telling me to get a move on it," T-Dog says, smiling into his coffee.

"That would be the gist of it, yes, young Theodore," Dale says. His deliberate 'wise elder' tone makes them all laugh.

"I can't see you living with a woman and her daughter if you weren't already committed, T-Dog," Jim adds. "Marrying her mama is just a formality at this point, because that little girl's got you hook, line, and sinker until the end of your days."

The big man just smiles, that goofy smile Jim knows he wears himself when he thinks of the freely given affection Brandy and Jocelyn give him.

But conversation is cut short by the door opening, and his bride-to-be stepping inside.

Jacqui puts her hands on her hips. "Somebody tell me that your bachelor party wasn't just coffee with these two old dogs."

"Nah, you missed the others," T-Dog answers. "But it is time for us to be on our way if your own party's wrapped up for the night."

He takes the coffee mugs to the sink and rinses them while Jacqui gives Dale and T-dog a hug. By the time he's done, the men are calling out their goodbyes, with T-Dog helping Dale back to the nursing home for the night.

"I thought you were going to stay up at Carol's for the night?" he says, not that he's not delighted she came home. Spending a night completely on his own is something he's healthy enough for now, but he wasn't looking forward to it.

"Something she said reminded me that some traditions are a waste. My place is right here with you, so why pretend it's anything different for one single night?" She slips her arms around his waist, careful to avoid the spot still held together by surgical staples for a few more days.

"Never understood that tradition in the first place, once a couple was already living together."

He lets her tow him toward the bedroom, both of them going through getting ready for bed. Once they're settled and she's curled up against him, he rubs her back. "Got one regret about tomorrow," he says, keeping his tone light and carefree so she knows it's teasing.

"Oh, really? And what's that?"

He grins, even though she can't see it. "I'm marrying you when the mind is most certainly interested in the wedding night, and the flesh isn't up to the task."

Jacqui laughs and swats his shoulder. "I'm sure we can figure out a way around that, now can't we?"

"I have learned in the last year to never underestimate your determination to make something happen, sweetheart."

And isn't that the truth? She's as opposite from Lynnette as anyone could be, which is what made him share a tent with her in the first place. Nothing reminded him of his late wife, not back then. Over time, he's discovered they're alike in the most precious of ways.

She raises up enough to kiss him, a slow and deliberate exploration that definitely reminds him that he loves her dearly and his body is still only days recovered from a bullet to the gut.

"Love you," she says, settling back down onto his chest.

"Love you too."

Second chances are rare enough he's never giving this one up.

* * *

_A/N: For those not following the other TWD stories, I'm moving some of the supporting info to a website, slowly but surely. If you find any glitches or have a yearning for something specific to be posted up there, let me know. The link is in my profile._


	109. Beyond Expectations

**July 9, 2011**

~*~ Lori ~*~

Although she rates her pain levels and recovery rate on par with her past C-section, Lori will be glad when her body feels like her own again. She could probably manage a dance, but isn't sure it is worth the soreness later. Or the worry she'll see in Daryl's eyes.

The weddings were moved down to the lakeside in the expansion, because the council decided the best introduction of Homestead and Woodbury folks on the larger scale was a happy occasion. The community center isn't set up to handle over three hundred people.

Carol's people have brought out all the old event tents they used before the center was built, creating several oases of shade in the mid-eighties heat. Lori knows they even went out and cleared more tents, tables, and other items from the two abandoned event venues in the area.

"It looks like a cross between a wedding and a Fourth of July celebration," Scout says, smiling as she sits down and passes Lori a brightly colored frozen drink. "But all the couples seem pretty happy with it."

Lori laughs. "Your wedding wasn't far off from being a backyard barbeque. I like yours and this way better than the church and reception hall types."

Part of the reason for the lakeside location is that swimming is part of the festivities. Most of the kids and teens are in swimwear, and Tim and Christopher contributed to that theme by marrying in outfits suited for the beach. They're even down galavanting in the water now, leaving the more sedate post-wedding activities to the other couples.

"Me too. Too much pressure on clothing and formality. I about had hives going as far as we did." She sips at her drink, which Lori assumes is a mock-up cocktail like her own, and glances over. "No regrets that you did yours quietly?"

Lori shakes her head. "I had the spectacle once, and that was enough. I just wish I could swim. Everyone is having such fun."

The lake isn't a big one, only covering a little over five acres. Merle says it's an artificial one, made from damming off an oxbow from the river. But it's been there for more than a decade, the pride and joy of a previous landowner who loved to fish.

It's been converted for swimming now, with a floating dock anchored in the middle. She can see kids and probably a few adults sunning themselves on the dock. Bigger and deeper than the pond behind Merle's house, she thinks it's going to prove popular as summer wears on.

"Shane and Daryl still down there playing lifeguard?"

Scout nods. "Along with about six others. They'll make sure all the kids keep up sunscreen. Judy still sleeping?"

"Yeah." The baby loves the attention and excitement of a large crowd, but she fell asleep after a combination of eating off Lori's plate and nursing. Several of the solar powered RVs are down here for those needing a real respite from the heat. Patricia spirited Judith away along with Matty, stating she needed a nap along with the babies.

"Girls were doing their best to drown Carl, but he seems happy enough with it."

Lori laughs. "He loves being a big brother. He's a good kid. All of Rick's charm and good nature, without any pressure to behave in a certain way."

That's one thing she's learned over the past year, sometimes as painful emotional experiences. The life they had before, the comfortable, insulated middle class environment she and Rick grew up in and perpetuated as adults to their own unhappiness, it was too bound by the opinions of others.

Here, there's no one whispering in her ear about how Rick might be sheriff one day, and how a good sheriff's family reflects that. The ambition was a poison that festered within her, and the sad part is, she knows Rick would have hated being the sheriff.

"I can see that. Rick did turn out quite sweet once he adjusted to the crazy shit he woke up in."

They fall into a companionable silence. They've been friends long enough now that Lori no longer feels the insecurity of wondering why Scout's happy to share her company. Most of their common ground is their shared family, but it's been plenty to build a sense of sisterhood upon.

Jazz approaches with ice cream, passing the blueberry off to his sister and gifting Lori with a honey pecan concoction she likens to crack for how irresistible it is. He's got a bowl of his own, a lemon sherbet, and he sits cross-legged in the grass near them.

"Not planning on swimming?" Scout asks.

Jazz is one of the few teens not in swimwear. He's in lightweight clothing as a concession to the heat, but it's still jeans and a crisp white button up shirt.

He shakes his head in response to Scout's question, but doesn't elaborate. Lori wonders if she's ever noticed Jazz only shows expanses of skin when he has to, like sports jerseys. It's easy to think his family still knows him better than she does, but she remembers his discomfort at being shirtless during kangaroo care with Judith.

"You know, if you really wanted to swim, there's probably no one at all at the pond right now."

It draws a puzzled look from Scout and a thoughtful one from Jazz, but he shakes his head at her too. "I'm good. Just waiting a bit."

Lori follows his line of sight and giggles just a little when she makes the connection between Jazz and his recent companion. Scout's making the same observation.

"So it's like that, Jasper?" Lori asks, smiling.

He blushes, the color darkening his already deep coloring. "Yeah, I think so."

She looks back at the slim, bearded man from Hilltop. He's dressed much like Jazz, jeans and a blue button up. But where Jazz's is buttoned neatly and sleeves in place, Jesus's shirt is open a few buttons at the collar and the sleeves rolled to his elbows. He's speaking animatedly with Denise, hands accenting his words.

"You have good taste." It's not just that the man's good looking, but the confidence in his body language. Lori hasn't spent much time in his company, but she knows the Dixons who have are quite taken with the man.

"Tiha!"

The slightly embarrassed exclamation makes Scout have to hide her amusement and Lori tamps her own down willfully.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm just being the fun aunt. I never got to do that before."

Jazz eyes her for a couple of heartbeats, assessing her sincerity. "So like Honey teases me."

"More or less. Tell me, has Honey figured it out yet?" Lori suspects not, because Honey can't keep happy news to herself, and she would see this as happy.

"Not that I know of." Jazz sighs. "She rushes into everything. I'm not sure she would understand it's different for me. She's usually careful, but this…" He seems at a loss to explain.

Scout leans forward for a better look at her brother. "Your pace is your pace, Jasper. I know it seems everyone tumbles headlong into relationships without much forethought, but it doesn't mean you have to follow."

"And sometimes, you don't see how much someone hesitates, being outside the relationship. Honey might surprise you," Lori adds.

As fiercely protective as Honey is of her brother, Lori thinks the young woman would sincerely understand he isn't as impulsive as his sisters. In observing them, especially the past week, she thinks even among her family, people don't understand all the facets to Honey's personality.

"I don't think she ever has."

"Honey is really good at pretending otherwise, Jazz, but I've seen her heartbroken. Believe me, she'll understand caution. Is she going to tease you? Probably. But she'll understand." Scout reaches out, smiling when Jazz takes the offered hand and squeezes.

"He keeps the nightmares away." It's almost inaudible, so Lori almost misses it.

"About the attack?" Scout voices it before Lori can.

"Yeah."

Lori exchanges a guilty look with Scout. After her initial desperate need to know he was okay, she let herself be too reassured that her nephew was weathering the aftermath well. She suspects Scout did similar, caught up in duties and childcare while Lori is recovering.

Jazz catches them at it and sighs. "I know how to ask for help. I've been to see Denise twice, and I'll keep going. It's just he's there, at night, and he understands."

Lori thinks of how late nights were when all her own insecurities crawl out to play. It's half the reason she slept with Shane, needing anything to chase away the numb terror of both Rick's seeming death and the world ending.

Years of being a cop's wife, of waiting for that knock on the door during night shifts - it trained her mind and body to dread thoughts when alone in the dark. Even now, she's never asked Shane if the same thing fueled the way he would always throw the sheet back when she crept into his tent and begged that he make her forget for a little while.

But that rolls her mind around to Jazz and remembering for all his maturity, he's still not much older than Carl. Granted, he wouldn't be the first teenager to be having sex at fifteen, but she has to ask.

"Jazz, how does it help the nightmares?"

"I like the sound of his heartbeat, and he doesn't care that I'm different."

It's both one of the sweetest and saddest things she's ever heard.

"I suppose that's one of the better ways of keeping to good dreams, then."

He smiles at her words, but obviously understood what she didn't say or ask. "It's not about sex, Tiha." He looks between her and Scout. "It might not ever be. I don't know for sure yet, and he's okay with that, too."

Lori has to wonder at just how far gone on Jazz the young man is, because right now she wants to interrogate him thoroughly. This is probably the first time she's really thought about what Jazz's sensory issues might mean for him as an adult.

Scout drops onto the grass next to her brother, close but not touching, until Jazz slings an arm across her shoulder. He further surprises them by pressing a kiss against his sister's temple.

At her startled sound, he smiles. "Denise says I should test my boundaries on my own terms instead of assuming nothing has changed in the past year or two."

He nudges Scout with a murmured hint for her to hug him back, and Lori watches as her stoic career Marine friend blinks away tears from the shelter of Jazz's embrace. He's making no sign of moving away, so Scout stays put, arms around his waist.

As much as Lori's yearned to hug him in the months since she's grown to love him, she can't even imagine how good it must feel for a sister who's loved him all his life.

~*~ Carol ~*~

Now that the leftover food's been spirited away to cooler storage, Carol assesses the wedding guests with content amusement. The cold drink coolers and the ice cream freezer are the only things remaining. The part that worried her the most, mingling the new people in, is going relatively well.

As usual, the children and teens crossed over first. The prospect of good food, sweet desserts, and swimming worked like a charm. They're playing together, shrieks of laughter echoing like any large public celebration before the world fell.

She does the usual check of where the family is. Sophia and Logan are jumping off the dock and swimming back, with screaming cannonballs showing their progress. Jazz is settled in with Lori and Scout. Honey's in the water, settled on Eugene's shoulders for some sort of game with several others paired up similarly.

She's just located Cricket, Amy, and Maggie seated together in the shade when she realizes she has company.

"I must say, Homestead really knows how to throw a party." Ezekiel's smiling broadly, but it's the more natural, personal expression than he uses at home in public. He has no audience here, which probably makes this like a vacation for him.

"Even before we had Denise to confirm it, we knew people need things to look forward to when they have to face a world gone mad outside the fences."

He nods. "I heartily agree. At first, I think my people were humoring me with our theater and choir, but now it is becoming ingrained as part of our culture."

"It is encouraging to see a community accepting what was denied to certain couples before, or that they were punished for, even if only socially."

Carol thinks about today's marriages and smiles. Tim and Christopher, who couldn't legally marry before. Jim and Jacqui, who could marry, but would have faced censure and prejudice from both sides of the racial lines for it. Even Axel and Angela are from wildly different ethnic backgrounds.

"We lost an imperfect world that we all still valued. Now we have the opportunity to build something that holds more of its good qualities than bad."

Sophia will never face a life like Carol led, because she's being conditioned to never just accept that being female makes her second rate or weak. Scout may squirm away from permanent leadership, but she puts the hero worship of the younger ones to use by making them all into Amazons of differing scales.

"I confess that integrating the refugees is something I'm wary of, but it seems to be working."

"You've seen first-hand how people crave a confident leader. It led them to trust a psychopath, but faced with alternatives, good people will move toward the positive leaders. Look at how the Shirewilt residents preferred your Kingdom to Hilltop before it changed."

He makes a thoughtful hum, nodding. It shifts his dreadlocks around his features and reminds her of why Andrea is so confident that paternity should be visually distinctive.

"How are you feeling in regards to possible fatherhood?" She ran an ultrasound with both fathers present, and the respectful interactions the men have gives her hope for the baby regardless of who takes custody.

"Hopeful, yet anxious. I feel I am already attached beyond what I should be."

She flashes him a mischievous smile, thinking she can always plant the seeds of the idea. "You aren't restricted to the idea of only biological parents, one male, one female anymore, you know. The baby will benefit from at least two parents."

The idea settles and takes root, she can tell. Ezekiel laughs. "Instead of a Solomon's choice, you propose we both raise the boy?"

"Why not? It would be tricky, living in different communities, but it can be done. And I suspect Harlan could be persuaded to relocate, Hilltop council or not."

"I suppose it is a plan worth considering. The worst thing that can happen is the man says no."

She pats him on the forearm. "My thoughts exactly. And you've got a long ride back to Virginia to work out the details."

The self-styled king engulfs her in a bear hug. She laughs, returning the friendly gesture.

"It is a loss to my Kingdom that your heart is already spoken for, Lady Dixon, for I would endeavor to court you away from your own domain otherwise."

The return to the theatrical prose tells her he's teasing, but it's still sweet to be valued. It'll never get old, even though her family makes her aware of their love and support daily.

She spots Merle as she leads Ezekiel to pick out ice cream, and gives him a thumbs up. Her husband encouraged her to make the co-parenting suggestion, and she knows he's curious about the results.

Emboldened by the success, she leads Ezekiel to a table with a few of the single ladies of Homestead. She can't matchmake him for anything long term in such a short time period, but perhaps he can find some joy in the company of pretty ladies for a while.

~*~ Rick ~*~

Rick's almost regretting the surgery timing as he watches the swimmers. Carl's having fun with his sister and cousin, showing a patience with the girls that reminds Rick of one of the reasons he's currently feeling the results of voluntarily having a new hole poked in him.

Rosita strides out of the water, her brown skin gleaming in the combination of water and sunshine. He catches the admiring looks sent her way and grins, just a little. It's silly, because he's spent his entire adult life paired off with a beautiful woman. But he does marvel that he keeps getting lucky.

She snags the beach towel off the chair beside his, swiping at her face and front before leaning in to kiss him.

"Still sore?' she asks, fingers lingering along his bearded jaw.

"Yeah. I'm thinking I wasn't nearly sympathetic enough for Lori's C-section now."

It's not that he was unkind, but he has a four inch incision in his abdomen and it makes him glad he slept through the worst of his gunshot injuries.

"Men never are, until a hernia or similar catches up to them." She smiles and sits, reaching out to take his hand.

Since his surgery is similar to hernia surgery with the technique Hershel and Harlan eventually decided on, it's a good comparison. They won't know any real results for at least six months, but he's fine with that. Rosita confirmed she wants children, but more in the 'sometime in the future' sense. She's still grieving her nephew too much to think of a baby.

It was the potential health issues that made her put her vote in for him having the surgery done while they can guarantee the equipment to do it. He can't say he liked the idea of losing that much blood flow to an entire testicle or the idea of it advancing to nerve pain on a regular basis, either.

She glances out to where he's been watching Carl and the girls. "He's going to be in for a bit of heartache."

Rick frowns, wondering what she's alert to that he isn't.

"Overheard Bryce talking to Shane about leaving in the morning for Virginia and Audrey's going with him."

"Oh, hell. Permanently?" He can't blame the man for seeking out a woman the gossip says he's quite taken with, not after losing his wife so tragically. But Carl's over the moon for Audrey, and having spent a lot of time with the girl at family suppers, she's a sweetheart.

"A trial month. If things change, he'll come home after Jazz goes up for the Hilltop lambing. Or Audrey may come back without him if she doesn't like Hilltop and live with Christopher."

"Damn. I'm guessing she hasn't told Carl yet?"

Rosita points to the teenage girl clustered on a blanket with a few friends. "Something tells me from her glum look that she's still working up the courage."

"I guess we'll need to keep an eye out." Woth Carl, where he'll turn for comfort is anyone's guess.

Rick thinks his boy really thrives in the environment where he has four parents, plus dedicated aunts and uncles. He's managed to get at least three different versions of the safe sex talk in the process, though. Rick's favorite was probably the time he came and hid out in Rick's apartment after Cricket hosted a sex ed class. The young doctor is always through in her educational efforts.

"At least it's not a firm breakup yet, maybe. But I honestly don't see her leaving Bryce. Girl really loves her uncle."

He admires Rosita's optimism, and maybe a tapered off ending will be easier if the teens go that route. It's not that Christopher isn't close to his niece, but Bryce definitely has more of a paternal relationship with the girl.

Speaking of nieces, Anaya's making a mad dash their way, but stops short of the dripping wet hug she was about to deliver. He grins and offers anyway. He'll dry. It's taken Anaya longer than Abby to view him as an uncle, but once she made up her mind, she's fiercely enthusiastic in showing affection.

"You tired of swimming?"

"Nah. Wanted ice cream, though, before they eat up all the lemon." She looks toward the portable freezers holding the ice cream. "Do you want some?"

He considers saying no, but something cool does sound nice. "How about a soda instead?" Might as well enjoy those as the supplies - amd quality - dwindle.

"Regular coke, right?"

He nods and she takes Rosita's request for a drink as well before trotting off.

Rosita's smiling rather sweetly at him when he looks back at her. "What?"

"You are very affectionate with her."

He shrugs. "She's family."

It really is as simple as that nowadays, although maybe it always has been for him. Nothing ever dissuaded him to consider Shane as anything less than a brother. As a kid, he often wished his parents could officially adopt Shane so he could live with them permanently.

Shane made being an only child less lonely and offered an alternative to the prim and proper home he was raised in. Rick's not as surprised as many in their old town might be that Shane's bloomed here as a father, husband, and leader. The signs were always there from the time he peeked through the fence to smile shyly at the loud, happy boy playing in the yard next door.

Anaya reminds him of that little boy. She tows the more reserved kids along in her wake, leading them the same way he followed her father as a child.

He shakes off the musing and takes Rosita's hand as Anaya returns, two bottles dangling from one hand and a cup of lemon sherbet in the other.

As she plops down to lean against Rick's legs with her frozen treat, it reinforces what he already knows. If he becomes a father again, it won't matter how it happens. And if he doesn't, he's already blessed beyond any expectation he ever had with family.


	110. Rightness

**July 9, 2011**

~*~ Jesus ~*~

Jesus sits with his back to the arm of the couch, bare feet stretched out in front of him. He's got one of the many wilderness books that seem to sprout like mushrooms after a rain around Homestead. He knows the basics, but the sheer amount of wild foodstuffs and medicinal plants amazes him sometimes.

Back home at Hilltop, it's obvious that the surviving scraped together technology leads many to think they can sustain it indefinitely. He's a realist though. While he has no doubt they aren't fated to revert to medieval levels, he thinks by the time he's Merle Dixon's age, they'll be working at the Industrial Revolution stage again.

Everywhere here is evidence he's not alone in that. Despite all the tech they've saved and still enjoy, as evidenced by the fact that he's in a room cooled by some level of air conditioning in the middle of a Georgia summer, Homestead prepares for it to fail.

"You look like something's bothering you," Jazz says quietly, taking a seat near Jesus's feet. His hair is still wildly curly from being toweled dry.

With the stitches finally out of his cheek, the prediction that it will scar is becoming more evident. When his hair grows back in the temple area where they shaved it as part of the surgery, that scar will be hidden. But the others, particularly the jagged tear from the rifle butt, will bear witness for the remainder of Jazz's life of the savagery man can descend into.

"Just thinking about how subtle leadership here is about things like this." Jesus closes the book and flips it for Jazz to get a clear look at the cover.

Jazz gives him that little crooked half smile he really likes. "You ought to check out the schoolhouse sometime. There's a reason the science classes are popular here."

"I'll do that." He knows Harlan and Ezekiel both were welcomed and guided all over Homestead, no real subtlety to their exposure to ideas Jesus already had even before his first encounter with a Dixon.

"I'm off duty tomorrow. Would you like to go hunting?"

"What will we be hunting?" Jesus knows from his previous visit that Daryl often leads teams out to take wild game, both native and the still growing herd of water buffalo.

He's not a hunter himself, preferring to rely on food he carries along or scavenges in his travels. The number of old gardens gone wild, reseeding themselves without human care or just perennial plants, often keeps him well fed. But that's a luxury he can't always rely on.

"Rabbit, mostly. The farm's having a pretty rough time with them this year, and Lenore and Hershel think they're coming up out of the expansion." He taps Jesus's book. "But it's a good place to put this into practice. Virginia isn't so far different from Georgia that it won't be useful to learn here."

"Alright. Rabbit would be better for me to learn anyway. Be a waste for me to hunt deer when I'm travelling solo, right?" Oso's pretty good about finding his own food, so Jesus knows there's plenty of rabbit in Virginia.

"We'll go early. Take Logan if he wants to go along."

Logan's increased independence is something that both delights and saddens Jesus. Once the boy was reasonably sure Jesus's visit wasn't a short one this time, he's gone about his own routine rather than shadowing Jesus.

"I'm not sure any of the kids are capable of telling you no when you ask them to do something." It's an almost hilarious phenomenon. Jesus learned quickly that the adults here are as amused by the Pied Piper effect as he is.

"That's because I don't ask things I know they don't want to participate in."

Something in the younger male's expression makes Jesus grin. Just like Carol, and to a different extent, Jazz's sister Cricket, their subtle effect on others is an interesting contrast to the bolder, in-your-face leadership style of Merle, Scout, and Honey. While he knew without a doubt that Carol and Cricket consciously use psychology in gently leading people where they need to be, he wasn't sure until right now that Jazz was aware of what he's doing versus instinctively copying their example.

"Yet you say you understand animals better than people."

"That's still true. I don't always really know why people react the way they do, but I know patterns. Animals are simpler. It's mostly about bodily needs. People? Not always, and that's when I get lost the most."

Jazz makes an aborted move to his still healing cheek, sighing.

"It bothering you?"

"Itches because it's healing."

"Let me try something. Can I touch your face?"

Jazz nods, and when he seems entirely comfortable when Jesus moves to his knees next to him on the couch, Jesus cups his hands so that he can massage around the worst of the cuts with his thumbs. He's careful with the pressure, not wanting to put strain on the titanium pieces now holding the cheekbone in place. Jazz's eyes flutter shut.

"This feel okay?"

"Yeah. Dr. Carson told me I should massage it when he took the stitches out this morning."

"That's who taught me, actually. He says improved blood flow aids healing and reduces scarring."

"I don't care about the scar."

"I didn't figure you would, cosmetically. But the more intense the scar tissue, the more it'll bother you even after it's officially healed. Like your sister's burns."

It's one of the juxtapositions he's encountered a few times with Jazz, that intellectually he understands certain concepts. But sometimes things like the leap of logic between the massage therapy Scout still uses on her burn scars and applying it to his own smaller injury just don't occur.

"If she doesn't keep the skin supple, she could lose full movement in the shoulder, yeah." Jazz's eyes open as he speaks, even as Jesus drops his hands away from his face. Jazz smiles. "Makes sense. Thank you, Paul."

Jesus returns the smile, reaching for his book. "Give me an idea of what we can reasonably find in the woods tomorrow based on the season."

Jazz falls into the subject easily, flipping pages and speaking animatedly. Jesus only half listens, remembering he's got his first session with Denise tomorrow to keep his promise to Merle.

As much as he hates the idea of letting a shrink poke around his life and emotions, even a woman he respects as much as Denise, it'll be worth it to keep this content sense of rightness that flows over him stronger each time he settles in next to Jasper Dixon.

~*~ Sophia ~*~

Sophia trails back up to her house with Beth and Isabelle, idly listening as the two older girls giggle over Isabelle's billboard sized crush on Noah. Movement near the basement entrance catches her eye.

"You guys go on in. I'm going to go say hi to Jazz."

They take it at face value as she heads toward the outside entrance, rather than trailing through the house to the stairs near the now missing garage. The fact that her friendship with Jazz survived the slow bleeding way of their initial crush is well known.

But it isn't Jazz leaned against the outside wall to the left of the stairs down.

"You know, sneaking alcohol works better if you don't sit in plain sight with it," she says, sitting down beside Carl Grimes.

The boy makes a rude noise and she realizes the bottle of homebrew beer is still sealed. He keeps turning it in his hands, like he's not entirely sure what it is.

"You okay, Carl?"

The once close friendship trio she, Carl, and Jazz had has spiraled down to more shared chores than the constant time in each other's company they once enjoyed. They all have so many interests to pursue, not to mention Carl spending time with his girlfriend, Audrey.

"Audrey's leaving tomorrow for Virginia with her uncle." The other teen sniffs and Sophia realizes he's fighting tears.

"I'm sorry." It's the first she's heard, but she's not part of Audrey's particular group of girls. The redhead is nice enough, taking after her uncle Christopher in personality quite a bit, but she's like Jazz and Patrick. Already set on what she wants to learn and do, so she's not cycling through the work shifts quite as much as the other teens.

"She says it's not fair for me to hope she'll come back, because she wants her uncle to be happy."

"So she broke up with you?"

"Yeah."

"Damn." Sophia reaches out and takes the bottle away from Carl, stashing it behind one of the bushes that surround the corners of the basement level of the house.

He doesn't argue, and when she hugs him close, he returns the hug, burying his face in her shoulder and crying quiet tears. They sit like that long enough Sophia's backside is going numb and she thinks Carl's fallen asleep.

"Sophia?"

Apparently not. "Yeah, Carl."

"I don't want to go inside."

She considers suggesting they stay right where they are, but everyone's still on edge from the attack. If she doesn't show up inside soon, Beth will come looking for her. Maybe the boys will come looking for Carl, too, since he's been staying over while his mother's up in the temporary apartment.

"C'mon."

She stands and tugs him up with her, hanging onto his hand. He doesn't fight it, but he does scrub at his face with his free hand with a bandana he tugs out of his pocket. She suppresses the grin at the habit of carrying a bandana picked up from Uncle Daryl and leads him to the front porch.

Not surprisingly, there's no one in the living room or kitchen. The wedding and party that followed probably used up everyone's need to be out in the social areas of the house. She plops Carl into a kitchen chair and goes to find her mother's cocoa powder stash.

When she joins him at the table with a mug of the hot cinnamon and chocolate recipe Merle taught her, Carl actually smiles. "It's too hot for cocoa."

"Maybe. But it always makes me feel better."

He sips at the hot liquid, fiddling with the mug about the same way he did the purloined bottle of beer. "She won't be coming back, right?"

Sophia shrugs and opts for honesty over false reassurance. "You weren't up there, but I think her uncle's pretty over the moon for Olivia. You remember her, right?"

She thinks of how the brunette woman just absolutely _glowed_ whenever Bryce was around. It's also the first time she ever saw the dour, mourning man smile at anyone that wasn't Audrey. She can't see Olivia sending the man back on his way if he's willing to move all the way to Virginia in search of her company.

"Their quartermaster. Denise's friend."

"Yeah, that's her. He's been widowed a while, so I guess I understand why Audrey wants him to be happy if he can."

Carl nods, sniffling a little and concentrating on the drink. When both their mugs are empty, she takes them to the sink and washes them.

"C'mon, Carl," she coaxes in an echo of the way she led him inside. "We're both off duty tomorrow. Let's see how many X-Men movies we can watch before we fall asleep."

Instead of the big television, she digs the handheld DVD player out of the drawer under the television. As the opening fight between Wolverine and the others at the bar unfurls on the screen, she feels Carl slowly start to relax where he's sitting against her in the biggest bean bag chair.

She smiles, glad that her mother's method of coping with a break up works for boys too.

~*~ Carol ~*~

Freshly showered, Carol pauses in front of the mirror above her sink. She's usually so busy that getting a full view of her body's changes doesn't happen often. At twenty-three weeks, she feels like the baby shows more than Sophia did at the same stage. With her weight still barely where Cricket wants it - and Harlan's agreement - she sometimes feels like she does nothing but eat.

Brushing away that thought at feeling ungrateful for the new life she's bringing into the world, she drops the soft nightgown over her head. Rubbing her belly makes the baby kick and move, banishing the ghostly tendrils of self-doubt that still creep up on her sometimes.

Footsteps on the back deck signal Merle's arrival just as she starts brushing her teeth. He kicks his boots off inside the door and comes to cradle his taller form against her back, hands cupping under her belly.

"You smell good," he says, nuzzling at her neck.

She reaches up with her free hand to cup the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the graying curls. He sways with her until she finishes with her teeth.

"You smell like sunscreen," she says, smiling at him. The cloying coconut scent is much different than the normal spicy remainder of cologne and sweat by the end of a day.

"Is that a polite hint to get my ass in the shower?" he asks, grinning at her over her shoulder in the mirror. He presses a soft kiss against her shoulder just past the strap of the nightgown.

"Might be. Might just be an opportunity to see you naked." She rinses her mouth and then her toothbrush as he steps backward to turn the shower on, blowing her a kiss.

"You've become quite the peeping tom, Mrs. Dixon." He sheds his clothes as he speaks. He's actually dressed up a bit today, in honor of the wedding, so the slow unbuttoning of the dress shirt is a treat.

"You say that as if you don't enjoy every minute of it." She leans against the side of the tub, watching the very deliberate show he's putting on.

Merle grins, stepping back into the spray of hot water without comment. Normally, she would join him, but they discovered that worry she'll slip is a complete mood killer for her husband. Instead she watches as he makes short work of getting clean, stepping back out on the mat.

"Come see if I pass inspection?" he invites.

Even though she knows exactly what will happen, she steps in close, smiling as she smells nothing but the familiar scent of Irish Spring soap. He hauls her close, soaking the front of her nightgown with the water still dripping from his skin.

The kiss he teased earlier is delivered with interest now, and he gathers the hem of the gown, tugging it over her head and dropping the damn garment onto his own clothes. The kiss is lingering enough she feels her body respond with all the intensity that the second trimester adds to her normal attraction to her husband. His work-roughened hands slide across her skin, setting her nerve endings singing in anticipation.

"You'll get the bed wet," she cautions. He snags a towel and offers it to her, standing still as she rubs it across his skin.

_(edited scene)_

When he moves away finally, after long moments of kisses along her spine, she feels exposed even as he pats her ass and says to stay put. She lies with her head on her folded arms, reveling in the care that he runs the warm wash cloth along her skin. The pillow gets turned into a belly wedge as she rolls to her side, blinking sleepily at his naked ass as he returns the wash cloth to the bathroom.

Earlier, watching him was colored by anticipation of sex. Now it's just a deep, abiding sense of contentment of his healthy form.

He's not as slim as some of the men, especially not the Hollywood ideal, but his body bears the heavy muscle of a man who's spent his entire adult life working in physical labor. The graying body hair he teased her about that first night is more obvious now, nearly a year later.

Merle arches a brow when he catches her watching him when he returns to the bedroom. "You're looking like the cat that got the canary, darlin'."

"You're far too handsome to pass for a canary," she teases. Her body's heavy with the aftermath of the hormone rush and she can feel sleep beckoning.

"Perhaps not a canary, but I can't say I mind that Cheshire grin you're wearing." He slides into the bed from his side after pulling on a pair of boxers, dislodging her content sprawl to ease a nightgown over her head.

She loves their big family, but sometimes she wishes they met when they could enjoy months together laying skin to skin. But with Logan still unsettled after the attack, and even little Christian prone to making escapes to find "Pop Pop", nude sleeping isn't in the cards.

The nightgown's soft cotton does feel good against her flushed skin, even as he leans over her to kiss her, tasting of bubblegum toothpaste. It makes her grin that he didn't switch back to his normal toothpaste after the nausea from the first trimester passed.

"What's so amusing, Mouse?"

She looks up to where he's propped on an elbow, expression halfway between amused and perturbed.

"You taste like bubblegum."

He laughs. "Christian brushes his teeth better when he's using the same toothpaste I do."

That. That's exactly why she adores this man. His personal preference isn't for the artificial taste of the kiddie toothpaste, but it makes his toddler grandson happy.

"I love you, Merle Dixon."

"Love you too, Carol." He settles behind her, hands caressing her belly with all the care the precious cargo inside merits. "You still haven't told me what name you're thinking about for Peanut."

She settled on Sophia's name easily and early, with no input from Ed other than a shrug and a passing remark that at least it wasn't Brittany or Amanda. But what's settling in her mind and heart for this little girl is something far more personal than just liking the name itself.

"I would like to call her Ava."

Merle goes so still at first that she thinks he's upset. Only one of his kids has any part of their name after a family member, and that's Honey's middle name being shared with Merle's great-grandmother. With Catherine still living and helping care for the other Dixon children, it was probably a natural way to honor the elderly woman.

But Ava Dixon's murder at the hands of her own husband could make it far too emotional a name for Merle to cope with.

The reply, when it comes, isn't in words, but in a long, tender kiss. "She would have loved that," he says at last.

"What was her middle name?" Carol's relieved that it's seen as the honor she intended, naming the baby girl after a woman who endured a life worse than Carol's and still managed to turn out a good man capable of discarding that upbringing to be better than his own father's example.

"Jolene."

Carol sounds that out. "Ava Jolene. Very pretty."

Merle moves from his position spooned behind her to press a firm kiss on Carol's belly as the baby kicks, roused from the lull she was in earlier. "Whatta you think of that, Ava Jolene? You like that better than Peanut?"

Christ Almighty, she loves this man.

* * *

_A/N: I am working pretty diligently on getting the sequel set up, which means some time spent planning and setting up the final chapters of RBM to phase correctly into the Negan story arc that will dominate the first part of In the Service of Others (ISO). _

_I've written enough Negan POV now to give myself the willies, and I may post a teaser as a placeholder "first chapter" for ISO, if folks are interested in seeing his actual intro as a trailer of sorts. Some of my scrambling out chapters of Hell is that story feels quite a bit like a good, hot shower after writing Negan. :)_

_I am estimating approximately twenty more chapters to finalize the RBM part of the saga, so another 80-90k._


	111. Keep Getting Better

**July 26, 2011**

~*~ Daryl ~*~

Daryl knows the repercussions of losing control in the infirmary haven't all gone away. Jazz has stopped tensing up anytime he's near, after sharing a session with Denise. The teenager admits that it isn't that he's afraid of Daryl hurting him, but the reverse. It also reinforces that terrible day's grief-fueled impression that he missed the point where Jazz moved from boy to man.

He's glad they were able to settle things, because the teenager is leaving tomorrow for Virginia for a month to oversee the lambing at Hilltop and other veterinary care the northern communities need. The rest of the family, his wife included, have all absorbed the issue and let it pass as resolved.

All but one very distinctive exception.

As big as Homestead is now, it's easy to avoid someone if you want to, and Honey is avoiding him with every last bit of Dixon stubbornness. He's tried to respect that, because confronting her when she's not ready to talk is on par with tackling a honey badger in its den. She may live in her little self-designed cottage within full view of his own home, but even when he and Lori settled back home, he hasn't knocked on that door.

But she's leaving in the morning, part of the escort to Virginia. She's staying up there as long as Jazz does, and lately, he's got the uneasy feeling that if he lets this fester, the distance may become permanent.

Because Honey's birthday is in two days and Sophia's in five, Carol's put together a family party at the main house. Everyone's full of excellent food and enjoying an unexpected chance to relax as a family.

"Honey's out on the deck," Lori says quietly. "Eugene's still out there with her, but the others just came back in for the ice cream Patricia announced."

Lori runs a gentle hand along his spine, adding that little bit of reassurance he's craving. She was decidedly unhappy with what transpired when she was in surgery, but it wasn't the confrontation he dreaded it would be.

Daryl sets his empty glass by the sink and opens the kitchen door. As Lori indicated, Honey and her boyfriend are in the deck swing, surrounded by now abandoned camp chairs.

Eugene meets his eyes, and he thinks he sees sympathy of a sort in the man's expression. The younger man presses a kiss to Honey's temple and rises from the swing, passing Daryl to go inside without any interaction. It leaves Daryl to stand facing a young woman that he realizes he no longer knows.

He doesn't take the seat beside her on the swing, thinking this is a conversation best held face-to-face. She doesn't greet him, just keeps up the rhythmic back and forth of the swing with the foot she has resting on the deck. The other foot is tucked under her, with one arm down to replace the support of Eugene next to her.

Sometime when he was caught up in everything else in his personal life, just like Jazz, Honey grew up. It's like facing Scout, but without that unerring faith that his sister will always need him as much as he needs her.

"I owe you an apology," he says at last.

"You do." It's the coolest tone he thinks he's ever heard Honey use.

He almost thinks this would be easier if she screamed at him like she did T-Dog back at the quarry, although that's actually something Scout reminded him of. Her meltdown at the quarry was not just about Merle.

It was also about protecting _Jazz_.

"You shouldn't have to threaten a family member to insure the safety of another." That's a terrifying revelation to put together in his head. "I'm sorry that I'm the reason you had to do that."

He understands the heavy weight of the guilt Merle wore after the early months of the dead walking so much better now. He still hasn't told Merle how bad it devolved at times, and the man's memory never fully patched back together.

Honey nods, expression grave. "It's just like I told Abraham. I warned you once. You ever cross the line again, I don't care that your intent wasn't to hurt Jazz himself. I will not watch someone I love be collateral damage to someone's uncontrolled temper."

It's easy, Daryl knows, to look at Scout, with all her military training, and understand that innate ability inside her where she could stand in that hospital back in Atlanta and put a bullet in Dawn Lerner's head. He suspects that few ever see it's a trait Honey shares, under the cover of frivolous clothes and happy nature. Her battleground isn't a far away desert, but it's produced the same warrior spirit.

"I wouldn't ask anything less of you. If I had hurt Jazz, even accidentally, I wouldn't have known how to live with myself."

"I'm glad you're seeing Denise. Please don't stop that because you think amends have been made," she says softly.

"I won't." That's the price everyone has asked of him. Trust Denise. It's easier, with his friend, than any therapist he saw as a teen. Perhaps it's the idea that she doesn't see him as a poor, broken baby bird, like those other therapists did.

She's quiet after his answer, still rocking gently and watching him.

"We don't know each other anymore, do we?" he finally says. It's not until he really dug into the wider span of how he handles grief and loss that he really began to see just how long he's been gone from his family.

"No, we don't. You left us, and Jazz and I grew up when you weren't here to see it happen." There's a flicker of emotion in her voice. Hurt. Distrust, maybe.

"I couldn't stay, not with Abby gone."

"Do you know how selfish it feel to want to scream at you for that, Daryl? You weren't the only one who lost Abby, you know, and we had even less say in the matter. She was taken away and that was the most horrible thing I'd ever known before then, until you left us, too.

"But you were hurting and I understood that you couldn't stay here. Then you couldn't seem to come back at all, not for us."

Daryl does the mental tally and realizes that in the three years between Abby moving to Kentucky and the world ending, he came home four times. Two of those times were not related to his actual family. The other two were not related to events in Honey's life.

He doesn't think he ever thought of the grief the kids who grew up alongside his daughter would experience at having her snatched away from them too.

"Christ, Honey, I'm sorry."

"You're happier now. I am happy for you, that you got Abby back and that you have a family now. But when you go act like you did the other night, it just makes me wonder how disposable me and Jazz are to you. You wouldn't have done that with Scout or Dad standing there and asking you to stop."

Daryl isn't sure he can breathe through the heartache those words cause. "Hannah. You have never been disposable to me."

"You didn't come when I was in the hospital. I needed more than just Dad when they were telling me I might not regain full use of my arm. You recovered from something worse and I wanted that kind of reassurance."

She takes a deep breath before continuing. "That was the worst time, but the smaller stuff adds up in its own way. You skipped all my school events until I stopped inviting you."

The memory of taking that assignment with the DEA that he could have passed off to Quinton the week of Honey's graduation flickers to life. The last time he remembers being at a major event involving Honey is the final lacrosse game of her freshman year.

She turns nineteen in two days, and he's missed four years of her life after being a near daily part of it for the first fifteen years. Even married, he stayed involved with the kids.

"And Jasper? He's my baby brother. Everyone else was leaving him and having their own lives, but that wasn't going to be me. I will burn the entire world to ashes before I let anyone hurt him."

She stands, rising from the swing with ease. She stops in front of him and leans in to kiss his cheek. "I love you, but trust? That'll take a while."

"I love you, too. And I'm sorry I lost sight of the fact that you needed me."

She fluffs his hair, her expression changing from the unsettling solemnity to a soft smile. "Keep getting better, Tihu."

As she heads into the house, he watches her go, watching as her body language changes as she steps inside.

How much pain have they all missed under the bubbly, irrepressible vision his niece presents to the world? How much of that is personality and how much is a mask? He suspects it'll be a good long while before he's trusted enough to know that answer.

~*~ Carol ~*~

"Supper was really good, Mama."

It's not the first time she's had Jazz drape an arm around her and draw her against him in a hug much longer than he used to manage. Before, even a hug felt like being held a little bit at arm's length.

It still feels like a magical novelty to be squashed just a little bit even as she hugs him back. When she cranes her neck to look up at him, he's smiling, looking as content as she's ever seen him.

"I'm going to miss you. You're going to be extra careful up there, promise me."

"I'm always the careful one."

She has to admit that's the truth. Out of all their rambunctious brood, Jazz and Cricket are the least likely to go looking for trouble. But the all-too-recent memory of when trouble came calling here still gives her nightmares.

Her son won't look for trouble, but he's too much of a protector not to put himself in the way of anything endangering anyone he feels needs protection. She doesn't think she'll ever get the image out of her head that bloomed after Eugene haltingly told them exactly how the man who shot Lori died. Combined with Jazz's willingness to die in Lori's stead, she wishes she could keep him right here and never let him go.

The problem with Jazz is that if she voices any of the fears she has for him being not only out of her sight, but hours and miles away, he would decide not to go. He would give up the independent experience needed as he's starting to move beyond being Hershel's apprentice to being a veterinarian in his own right. It would horrify him if she ever admitted that she's woken up in a cold sweat for three nights running.

He's loyal to a fault.

Instead of voicing any of that, she draws on years of experience in masking her emotions and smiles. "I know you are, but it's my job to worry, you know."

"That's what parents do, especially mamas."

She steps back from the hug enough to reach up and cup his face between her hands, smiling at the sweetly expressed statement. He dips his head for the kiss to his forehead without being asked, showing no discomfort with the extended contact.

They've been testing that, after Denise theorized he shouldn't assume the sensory issues are a constant that will never change. They could get worse, and they could get better, especially as his body changes from teenager to adult.

So far, it seems that other than Jesus, only Carol and his sisters pass whatever alert system his body has for adults, and he still has to be the one driving the interaction. It makes her heart ache for Merle, but her husband seems content that if that's all the progress Jazz ever makes, it's more than they were told to expect when he was younger.

"I'll be home before my birthday."

"Guess you should give me that menu now. Might be too round to cook it, though."

He laughs. "If you say so. I think it'll be Thanksgiving you'll need helpers to cook this year. Between Ava and all the other babies, you'll be swarming with babies. It's going to be like a lambing."

It takes Carol a minute to process the joke, remembering the often cascading births of the ewes that sometimes end up with Jazz literally sleeping down at the paddocks. She laughs, feeling the baby jostle and kick in protest of her bouncing.

"It will definitely be a very different meal this year. Maybe you'll be in charge of the turkeys this year."

He nods happily, but his attention strays, just a little bit. Unlike most people, Jazz is pretty good at staying focused on a conversation, even if he doesn't make eye contact. You just follow his body language and know he's intent. But that's also why Carol sees the shift in Jazz's shoulders as Jesus emerges from where he was dragged downstairs for a game with Logan and his friends.

"Go, sweetheart. I'm going to go find your dad."

Although Lori and Scout both expressed some concerns about the situation, Carol's glad she trusted her initial instinct that Paul Rovia belongs to her family. That letter he shared with Merle shed so much light into Jazz's world, and Jesus stayed around after it.

She thinks they're keeping him no matter what after that.

~*~ Tara ~*~

"You know, you two have been awfully cuddly lately," Tara says, teasing her wife from where she's sharing one of the big bean bags with Christopher. She glances around, seeing Christian in his usual nap-amongst-the-noisy-family spot: drooling on Merle's chest in his sleep.

"He's like a damned human shaped heater," Cricket grumbles.

Despite the heat of summer, which Cricket predicted would make for a miserable pregnancy, she's actually been chilled more often than not lately. Tara can see where Christopher's larger bulk makes for a better human heating pad than Tara herself does.

She drops to the floor next to the bean bag, leaning in for the kiss Cricket seeks quickly once she's on the same level. "Baby still being a gymnast?"

"I'm surprised she hasn't somersaulted right out of there."

Christopher laughs. "Don't give her any ideas. Want to swap out?"

When Tara nods, he levers out of the bean bag. Out of Cricket's line of sight temporarily, Tara meets his eyes.

"It's all good," he mouths before moving off to slip an arm around his husband's waist where Tim is in the middle of talking to Scout and Shane.

After the premature labor scare, Tara's never been so glad in her life that they're in a family filled to the brim with medical professionals. Cricket complains of feeling like a human pin cushion, because her blood's been tested for everything they can manage.

Aside from lower than preferred iron levels, she's doing fine. She hasn't even had Braxton Hicks contractions. But everyone's wary of labor starting up again. At least at thirty-two weeks, they are getting closer and closer to a safer zone for the birth. Everyone is torn between traditional bed rest and Cricket's insistence that she's more stressed in bed than on the loose.

Once she's tucked in with Cricket, her wife yawns and then giggles. "I am now very glad I was smart enough not to try pregnancy while still in school like some women. She's a little energy zapper lately."

"Her mama is just spoiled to not going ninety-to-nothing all the time."

"Her mama is bored out of her damned mind. What did Lilly need?"

Tara laughs. Being fairly inactive seems to be a state designed to drive Dixons crazy, she thinks. "T-Dog proposed."

Cricket jolts and tries to roll, excitement evident in her face. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. They're going to do the ceremony next month."

"Meghan is going to be over the moon."

"Yeah. They both deserve a lot of happiness after that asshole she divorced."

Tara leans to kiss her wife gently, loving how excited she is for Lilly's happiness. She just wishes her father could have lived to see this. Both his daughters married, Tara about to become a parent for the second time, and Meghan with a father again.

She thinks David Chambler would just burst with happiness.

~*~ Shane ~*~

"Tåta! I need help, please."

They've been home after the party for long enough for Anaya to head into the bathroom. He refrains from laughing by an effort of will when he steps into the doorway to find Anaya's gotten stuck in her T-shirt.

"Hold still," he cautions, looking for the problem. He finds it with one of the decorative pieces in her braids caught in the weave of the shirt. The bead seems well and truly stuck, so he works it off the braid. "Now try."

She huffs and tugs the shirt off, glaring at the offending bead. "Sometimes they are more trouble than pretty," she grumbles. "It's why Nåna just does a regular braid, isn't it?"

"Partly. The other reason is that she couldn't wear her hair like that in the Marines, so she never got in the habit." He also thinks the noise of the complex braids and their extras would drive his wife nuts.

"After I shower, will you help me with my hair?"

"Sure. I'll go see if I can make your bead give up its love affair with your shirt."

She giggles as he leaves the bathroom. It takes some wiggling of fabric and hair accessory, but he manages to save both. He hears the shower kick on just as the back door opens and Scout slips inside.

"Daryl okay?"

Shane has no idea what was said between Daryl and Honey out on the deck, but it left the man looking about as haunted as he did after the big fight with Scout.

"Yeah. He's settling more to thoughtful than shocked. Apparently, clearing the air with Honey revealed more than recent problems between them."

She wraps her arms around him and buries her face in his shoulder. He smooths her hair gently, cupping the back of her neck.

"They gonna be okay?"

"Probably. But I think it'll be more building a relationship as adults without the extra boost of fond childhood memories, if what he said was true."

She raises her head and sighs. "I was always so insulated from the emotional issues, being in the Marines. But that also means I can understand how he didn't think about how losing Abby affected more than just him.

"And how Honey is fiercely protective of Jazz because she doesn't trust anyone else to be that dedicated. I thought the same about Daryl for a long time."

"You know, as paired as y'all are on either end of the family, I'm surprised Cricket doesn't feel left out." He thinks it might be a little lonely, maybe even like being an only child.

Scout swats him gently. "Don't make me worry about another sibling tonight."

He just laughs. "I think she's came to terms with her middle child status a long time ago. Although Christopher may have filled that gap for her."

"I'm surprised she hasn't smothered him for hovering so much."

"He's worried. If anything happened to the baby, your sister would be crushed." He remembers how worried he was before Judith, especially that long week of waiting to see if the meds worked. He's grateful things seem to have settled down before they get the newest Dixon.

"I guess he can't turn off the risks running in his head anymore than she can, or that you and I could not run threat assessments in any room."

The shower shuts off and he motions to the shirt and bead. "I had to rescue her from her latest hairstyle. I think she's about to revolt from the pretty stage and aim for utilitarian."

"Or she could go for smooth beads," Scout says with a grin, picking up the intricate little metal bead. "Instead of ones with moving parts. Honey must be sharing her collection again."

"I'll ask Carol tomorrow for alternatives."

"Tåta!"

"Seems I'm being summoned as hair dresser."

Scout grins. "Maybe you should take some lessons from Jessie."

She's teasing, but it isn't a bad idea to learn more than the basics, but he thinks he'll ask Merle rather than the still sometimes jittery woman.

From the looks of his life, with his daughters and the impending births of a niece and infant sister-in-law, his life is going to center around tiny girls for a long, long time.

That thought makes him smile all the way to the bathroom.


	112. Little Namesake

**August 25, 2011**

~*~ Merle ~*~

"You look awfully excited for a woman running on three hours of sleep."

Merle leans against the door frame for Carol's office. Her hair is a fluffy halo around her head, a pretty pixie cut that's standing on end today from her tired fussing with it.

"Missing sleep to deliver a baby is worth it."

Denova Brady's son arrived just after two a.m., a nine pound, two ounce healthy bundle of joy. With Cricket on limited duty, Carol gets the babies for now.

"I imagine it is. But that smile looks like more than a healthy new baby."

She crooks a finger at him. "Come see."

He moves around the desk to where he can see the computer screen. As he rests a hand on her shoulder, he sees a no longer familiar sight: an email inbox, with a single waiting email.

"They got everything running officially now?"

Carol's been testing the system on their end ever since Eugene arrived at Hilltop and Ezekiel's tech finally got back home.

"Yeah. I haven't opened it yet."

She reaches for the mouse and double clicks to open the email and promptly giggles.

"Something tells me turning Honey loose with written communication is going to be interesting when she travels."

Merle laughs at Carol's words while skimming the lengthy email. "I should have shown you some of my old emails from her. She's always loved writing like this. She's the kid who wrote a letter a day from summer camp."

"So I'll get a daily update like this from now on when she's away?"

"Maybe not as long. She did have two weeks of things to write about this time. But yeah, as long as there's no strain on the system, she's going to write."

"It's so much better than a ten minute check-in."

He laughs and steals a kiss, but then he sobers. "I'm glad they've got it up and working."

The reason for his somber expression settles on her as well. "He's going to agree to Ezekiel's offer, isn't he?"

"That's my feeling on it. They need someone up there that's not just visiting. Beth could maybe do it, or they could rotate out, but they need a full-time vet."

"It's already near that," Carol says. "He's going back up when Denise rotates up to Alexandria."

Merle sighs. That's awfully close to Carol's due date. "Different world, we would have him home two more years. But that's all we would have gotten. I was just glad there's a vet school here in Georgia."

"How did you cope with it? First Scout, then Cricket, then even Daryl moving hours away."

"Scout wanted to be a Marine from the time she could talk. I had sixteen years to get ready for that one. And Daryl? It was a lot easier to show up for a weekend than it is now.

"Cricket was the easiest. Came home once a month. Could always meet up with her for dinner anytime I was in Atlanta. But there was no guarantee her internship would be even on this side of the country."

"So you enjoyed it while it lasted?"

"It's all you can do. Eventually, those apprentices Ezekiel is sending will get caught up, or Tiny will, and maybe it won't always be Jazz. In the meantime, enjoy it when he's home. At least we'll see him more than once a year."

Carol thinks about Scout's deployments and is selfishly grateful those no longer happen. She glances back to the computer screen. "It won't be just him, you know."

He nods. "Honey's overprotective now, but that'll ease over time."

"And if we don't revive fuel supplies?"

"If they could manage trains and ethanol engines in the past, we can manage to engineer what we need. That's actually what we need to add to our search spans once the tunnels are done."

"What's that?"

"One of the Woodbury people says there's a working steam engine in Savannah."

"Seriously? Eugene will be thrilled to get that project off the drawing board."

"Gonna be a task to get into Savannah, most likely. Can't imagine it's any better than Atlanta or Columbus."

"Yeah, but if a train breaks down, the passengers are pretty safe from even the biggest herd, right?"

"Trust you to see it that way, Mama Dixon."

When her hand goes instantly to her rounded belly, he grins. "She moving?"

"When is she not? Although at least she doesn't have day and night backwards yet."

Merle places his hand over Carol's, feeling the strong movement as the baby shifts around. "Got her mama's sense of timing already."

It earns him a kiss, which is interrupted by the thud of the outer office door. "Mama? Do you know where Daddy went?"

Feeling Carol's smile against his lips, he mutters. "That one did not."

Leaving Carol laughing, he straightens just as Sophia exclaims, "Nevermind!"

"Come on, Princess. I did promise to teach you to run the excavator today, didn't I?"

He glances back to Carol before he steps back into the sunshine and feels a little heartache at the bittersweet expression on his wife's face as she rests one hand on their youngest child and frets over the middle ones.

~*~ Glenn ~*~

"You know, if we wait another two days, Honey will be home, and there's a reason she's a mechanic and I'm not."

Putting together a crib should not be this hard. He's pretty sure he has at least four extra parts and is still somehow missing two more.

"But where will the baby sleep if he arrives before she gets back?"

Glenn laughs, looking up from his spot on the floor amid the crib parts. Maggie's in the rocking chair, hands folded over her belly. It's a sight he can't get enough of.

Behind her the wall is a painted scene of zoo animals, most of which will end up feeling like mythological creatures to this baby. But they couldn't resist when Lori presented the sketch. The other walls are a cheery green.

"Pretty sure that side sleeper is where you're intending him to sleep."

Now that was a lovely piece of baby furniture. He just snapped a few supports in place and instant baby bed.

Maggie just grins. "It's a rite of passage for a first time father to assemble the crib."

Glenn makes a face at her before laying the parts against the instructions to see what doesn't match up. "I really do think there are some things I am happy to skip out on."

He knows something is up when Maggie holds out her closed hand. Eyeing her a little suspiciously, he puts his hand out and she drops the two missing pieces into his hand.

"Hey! Did you have those all along?"

Her laughter is all the answer he needs. Woman likes pranking him way too much, but he wouldn't change it for the world.

"Just for that, maybe I should leave it for you," he teases.

"You could. Or you could get it finished up and we can go see how Cricket's doing today."

"We could." Him having a day off means Tara's free too, and he wouldn't be surprised if Tim and Christopher are already up there. "You two still plotting on how to magically have babies on the same day?"

"Well, we are due on the same day. It isn't an impossible thing that the babies might share a birthday."

"I'm more worried about Cricket making it to next month." Even though everything settled down, the worry that his best friend will deliver prematurely persists.

"We're almost thirty-seven weeks now. I'm pretty sure they can handle it. Past where Lori was with Judith and look how healthy she is."

Glenn gets two errant pieces to go together correctly and mutters a hallelujah that makes Maggie laugh.

"Flip it the other way when you put it together."

He stares at the crib side and flips it. It hooks right in. "How could you tell that from over there?"

"Years of helping on the farm."

Things finally fall into place and within ten minutes, they have a functional crib, and Maggie joins him to put the zoo themed sheet and mobile in place. She winds the mobile, listening to the tinny sounds of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

"We will be parents within a month."

Maggie's arm slides around his waist. "Yeah. Baby Boy Rhee."

He pulls her in close. "You know I'm fine with Greene." Even without the world being where surnames probably don't matter for anything much anymore, he thinks he would rather Hershel's family name keep going than his own.

She presses a kiss to his lips and smiles. "How about we stick to Rhee for this one and revisit the idea on the next?"

"Already planning another?" he asks. Not that he objects, but she's the one who had the crazy pregnancy.

"I have no intention of our son being an only child. You liked having a lot of siblings, right?"

While he didn't have the best relationship with his parents, he did adore all his sisters. Being drawn into the massive Dixon family helps with the homesickness he still has for the girls. "Yeah. Best part of growing up. There was always someone to hang out with."

"See? I'm thinking four is a good number."

He laughs. "Let's see what you say after he gets here, but sure, four is good."

Hell, she could have said ten and he thinks he would have said yes.

It's the family his father said he would never have when he diverged from his parents' plan for him.

~*~ Carol ~*~

Carol wakes to being nudged in the shoulder as Christopher calls her name. Last night spent overseeing Denova's delivery meant that when she was too exhausted - is still too exhausted - to handle another delivery. But she wanted to still be here.

Christopher is smiling when she sits up groggily and passes her a mug of lemon balm tea.

"How's she doing?" Carol asks, sipping the tea.

"She's in the shower at the moment, but I'm thinking she's going to be fully dilated by the time I check next in about fifteen minutes."

There's no tension or worry in his face, so Carol feels better about her nap.

"How's the baby responding?"

"All within normal ranges." He hands her the notebook to review.

It's silly, that she has much less nursing experience, yet he's calmly letting her check over all the vitals he's taken while she was asleep.

"What time is it?"

"About ten minutes until midnight."

The tea is half-gone when Cricket and Tara emerge from the bathroom. Cricket's wearing a hospital gown now, walking alongside Tara a lot more slowly than her pacing earlier.

Carol sets the mug aside and goes to hug her daughter. "How are you hanging in there?"

"Ready to be done and see my baby."

That makes Carol smile. "I'm pretty sure you were feeling that way for a while now, especially since the bed rest."

She can still remember the fear that gripped her and Christopher both when Cricket went into labor in the middle of the attack. Could they have kept that baby girl alive at twenty-nine weeks? Carol's desperately glad they didn't find out.

"You might be right." Cricket smiles as she moves toward the bed with the monitor, strapping herself back up and settling on the bed for Christopher to run his checks.

Carol takes her hand on the side opposite Tara.

"You're not upset I asked Christopher to deliver the baby, are you?" Cricket's voice is uncertain after a contraction passes.

"Not in the least. I'm just as happy to be your mother tonight as your midwife." Because that's what it whittled down to in the end. She's needed as the grandmother-to-be, and that's the kind of request she'll never deny any of the children.

It doesn't stop her from glancing at Christopher, but they all are, now that he's straightened up.

He grins, blue eyes sparkling. "Ten. Time to figure out exactly how you want your daughter to arrive."

Most births here have used the birthing stool that Patricia sang praises of, but Denova actually did a water birth. Since Cricket didn't like the idea of being restricted on movement, they haven't set the inflatable birthing pool back up.

There's movement down the hall, drawing Carol's attention to the newcomers while Cricket maneuvers upright with Tara's help.

Scout and Lilly are looking anxious when they come into sight. While Cricket didn't want a lot of company during labor, she did want her sister and Tara's here now.

"Did Christian behave for you?" Tara asks her sister.

Lilly nods. "He played with Meghan and fell asleep in his supper plate. Theo will keep an eye on them for the night."

"Gonna give him baby fever slowly but surely," Cricket suggests.

Lilly just laughs. "We're barely married. I'll hold off on the let's have a baby discussion until at least a month in."

As good as T-Dog is with his stepdaughter and nephew, Carol can't wait for her old friend to get to experience a night like tonight of his own.

When Tara takes a seat behind Cricket at the birthing stool, Scout takes the spot opposite Carol, while Lilly moves to scrub up in case Christopher needs a second set of hands.

It takes nearly an hour of encouragement between pushes and at least one round of making everyone promise to never let her do anything this painful again before Christopher gives the news they want.

"She's crowning, and that is one full head of hair."

Cricket giggles, just a little, in the small interval before the next push. "Dixons are never born bald."

Carol doesn't have time to speculate on that for her own baby, because the next contraction hits and then the squalling, irate newborn is lifted to her mother's chest.

Tara's hand shakes as she reaches over Cricket's shoulder, fingers stroking the baby's damp back as she quiets. "She's gorgeous, Chrissy, look at her."

Perhaps Carol's a little biased, but she agrees. The newest Dixon does have a thatch of black hair with just enough wave that Carol thinks it will be a curly mop in no time.

The baby's face is turned toward Scout, so Carol can't see her eyes, but she imagines they're blue, for now. Cricket's blue eyes would be a lovely legacy in her daughter, but it's just as likely they'll turn brown.

Carol watches contentedly, glad that she isn't tied up in midwifery duties, as the two new mothers and both aunts babble at each other and the baby. She does take a dry blanket and smooth away the worst of the birthing fluids off the little girl, even as the baby follows instinct and begins to nurse.

It's the first time Carol sees her face, and she smiles at Cricket. "She's your little miniature."

The new mother runs a hand down the newborn's back. "You think so?"

"I've seen your baby pictures, so, yes, I do."

When the baby's nursed her fill, Tara bundles her into the blanket for a moment, rocking her against her chest before passing her to Carol.

She may not have delivered her, but she gets to do the first checkup. As she carefully washes the newborn, Christopher appears with a fresh notebook.

"I'm betting she's close to eight pounds, even a few weeks early," he says.

Carol just hums, smiling at the drowsy baby as she lifts her onto the scale. "Seven pounds, nine ounces. Not bad on the guess."

He flashes her a grin before making that note and the length and Apgar. As Carol gets a diaper on the tiny behind, he turns to the mothers. "What name goes on this?"

"Meredith Elena Dixon."

Naming her for Cricket's father and Tara's mother is a sweet gesture, Carol thinks. "That's a beautiful name for such a pretty girl."

She carries the baby to Tara, who tucks her skin to skin with a look of overwhelming awe on her face. Cricket is getting to her wobbly feet and leaning on Scout. "Shower," she declares. "Can you summon Daddy?"

"Of course."

Merle's going to be over the damned moon about his little namesake.


	113. Safe and Sound

**September 7, 2011**

~*~ Abraham ~*~

Abraham wakes, senses alert to figure out what's brought him out of a sound sleep. It's not the sound of Michonne's quiet breathing, although this is the first time they've shared a bed since before he went to Virginia in January. The clock on the nightstand in her bedroom reads 3:46.

He shifts just a little, pressing closer against her back and ducking his face to her bare shoulder to kiss it gently. With his forearm still tucked against the swell of her belly, he feels what probably woke him.

It's not the baby kicking, but a gripping tension of a contraction tightening her belly to a hard mass of tension. The bedroom is dim, making it hard to really see much with only moonlight. But she seems to be sleeping through it, even if her expression changes to a grimace.

Must be early labor or more Braxton Hicks. She's been plagued with those, especially for the last month. He moved in with her and Andre after Homestead was attacked. Until last night, his place was on the couch. Close by if he's needed, but not crossing that careful 'just friends' line.

With nine days to go to the due date, last night, after leaving Andre's room after reading to him, he found himself cornered by Michonne. Backed against the wall, evidence of their child thriving between them, her kiss revealed to him that somewhere along the way, her feelings shifted.

But she didn't pressure him, just smiled that sly smile of hers and sashayed off to her bedroom. He stood there for a good five minutes, body calling him crazy for hesitating. His heart takes a little longer to agree.

The grief will never fade, not completely. He knows that. It's the guilt that's finally eased, both in how his older children died and how he now loves Andre and his unborn daughter with every fiber of his being. They don't replace Becca and A.J., but they deserve his unfettered heart.

That part was easier, because every parent knows how to love more than one child without losing any devotion to another.

Taking those steps through Michonne's bedroom door was different. He's supposed to love only one woman, the wife he chose before he could even be truly called a man versus a boy.

Life chose otherwise.

There are eleven steps between Andre's door and Michonne's.

By the twelfth step, there was no doubt in his mind that he's the luckiest bastard on the planet.

And now, it's 3:59. Under his arm, her belly contracts again. It's strong enough to disturb her sleep this time, and he thinks she's going to wake. But it eases before she's fully aware.

He hopes it lasts a while longer. She deserves all the sleep she can manage. Labor is shorter with a second child, but it's still an exhausting process.

He can stand watch for now.

Michonne wakes just after six, but he thinks it's more from habit than any serious discomfort. Although with her pain tolerance, he suspects it'll be a while before she's pushing her limits.

She rolls to her back, looking up at him. Her blue satin cap catches in the dawning light, sliding enough that one of her dreads escapes. "Are you watching me sleep?"

"Something like that." The clock says they've got about two minutes before the next contraction. He draws a thumb across her skin, smiling.

The kiss she initiates is definitely intended toward a repeat of last night, but he pulls away reluctantly. "Might want to wait a minute."

Michonne frowns, but they don't even make it that full minute before the contraction rolls through. Her eyes widen and she laughs, an airy sort of scoffing laugh.

"How long?" she asks, rubbing her hands across her belly above where his still rests.

"Not entirely sure, but at least since I woke at a quarter to four. Started every thirteen minutes. Last two before this one were at eight."

"We probably jump started it last night." She covers his hand with both of hers. "You ready for this? Becoming a father again?"

"That already snuck up on me a few months ago," he says softly. That night of the attack, with Andre curled on his chest, that's when that line crossed, completely and irrevocably.

"Andre loves you." The fondness for her son's open affection toward Abraham in her voice makes him smile.

"I love Andre." He dips his head to kiss her, making it a lot more gentle and lingering than his usual with her. "I love his mama, too."

The words spoken against her lips get a hand planted center of his chest, pushing him back enough to study his face. That sharp, analytical gaze misses nothing in his expression.

He followed her last night, but they didn't discuss the change to their original intent to raise their child without a relationship between them.

"What changed? Because this, _us_, has never been a necessity for you being a father to Andre or our daughter."

"I finally got it through my thick skull that Hershel's right that love ain't a one time good deal." Months of the platonic relationship they've been having actually helped, removing that cloud of lust that falsely colors over softer emotions.

Michonne laughs again, sound cut short by a groan as a contraction hits. She grips his hand and he revels in being her support.

"You have the most interesting timing, Abe," she says when it eases. She cups her free hand to his cheek. "I love you, too. Best to say it now, before I say otherwise when your child's making me miss the good drugs."

Abraham chuckles, leaning down to kiss her again. Even though it's got to be uncomfortable as her body begins the shifts and changes needed for the birth, it's a leisurely exploration of kisses between them.

But eventually another contraction intrudes and this one has enough bite that she needs to get up and get moving. He helps her into a loose dress and finds his own clothes.

"I'll get Andre ready and take him over to Scout's so she can take him to breakfast. She'll relay that we'll be at the hospital in the next hour or three." That much he knows, that she doesn't want to be in the infirmary until she has to be.

She pauses in her pacing of the hall to kiss him again.

"What's that for?" he asks. "Not that I'm objecting."

"For being so calm and assured about this that you left me to sleep and now you're remembering everything."

She doesn't speak about Andre's father often, but he suspects this is a reflection of something with him. There's still a lot of anger and grief surrounding Mike, and he knows that's a journey she has to take on her own.

"Not my first rodeo," he replies. She lets go of his shoulders and nods, giving him a little push toward Andre's room.

She's in the shower when he returns, so he leans against the door frame, admiring the view through the clear curtain. Her athletic, slender build accentuates her belly by making it a dominant part of her figure. It was something he noticed last night, but her clothes normally hide it.

The shower is more about the labor anyway, because she's letting the warm water stream down her spine and legs. She looks up at him, sighing.

"I don't want to get out of the water. It's perfect right at this angle."

"You want them to set up the birthing pool?" It's not the same as the shower, but warm water will help either way, he hopes.

She worries at her lip before nodding. "Let's give it a try."

The hot water eventually runs out and she lets him help her dry off. They haven't hit the four minute mark that Cricket and Carol insist on being the marker to head to the infirmary.

The next seven hours are an education in the current version of childbirth versus the sterile hospital version he's used to. He likes the privacy it affords them, even though he loathes Michonne being in pain.

They walk, sit, and flex. She rolls through modified yoga moves and even takes time to beat him at a game of cards. Carol checks in over the radio on the hour, and he cherishes their little bubble while it lasts.

And then the next hour starts the shift toward something more focused. That triggers Carol to finally issue the instruction to come to the infirmary.

The trip to the infirmary is a slow one, because Michonne insists on walking. It means that Carol's waiting, leading them to the room now set aside for births with the infirmary in more use with their larger population.

"Hershel is our standby today," Carol explains as Michonne settles on the bed for a checkup.

"Figured Cricket wouldn't be up to it just yet."

Carol laughs softly. "She's pretty disappointed, too. You're at seven, so at this point, it's just changing what you're doing from home to here."

"Baby by supper time," Michonne quips leaning heavily on Abraham as a contraction hits when she's trying to slide off the bed. He rubs her back, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Carol catches his eye over her shoulder, arching a brow. He just smiles, watching as she smiles widely in response and turns to check the water in the birthing pool.

Michonne groans in relief as she steps into the pool, clad in nothing but a tank top he recognizes as one of his own. The pool is big enough for her to float in, with her arms along the sides of the pool. She has her hair piled up on the top of her head, exposing the long line of her neck.

"How's Andre behaving for Beth?"

"He's working on enough artwork for the baby to decorate four nurseries, I think."

Abraham kneels outside the pool, rubbing lightly along Michonne's shoulders as she chats with Carol. He figures she'll want him in the pool eventually, but for now, she deserves the space.

After half an hour of floating, she flips in the water, kneeling with her belly still supported by the water. Carol's ducked out of the room to eat a snack and check in with Harlan Carson, so they're alone for now.

"You finally pick a name?" he asks, enjoying that she's leaning along the side and just watching him contentedly. He's suggested names for her list, but she can't decide what suits. She sips from the bottle of juice he offers and looks thoughtful.

"How much do you like Calanthe? Call her Callie."

"What does that one mean?" It's a nice name, uncommon like both of theirs.

"It's a type of Christmas orchid."

"A little nod to our unexpected Christmas present?" he asks with a smirk.

"Yeah. Without going with Noelle or something obvious."

"I like it."

They wait out another contraction. "You aren't getting much of a break."

"Getting real close, I think." She drops her forehead to the pool, rocking through another. "Can you get in the pool with me?"

"Sure." She's so calm compared to what he remembers this part of labor being like that it almost worries him. He stands long enough to strip down to his boxers, figuring Carol will appreciate him leaving that much on.

"How do you want me?"

"Sit there." Michonne moves backward, waving for him to sit where she was just leaning.

Abraham slides into the water, expecting her to sit between his legs and maybe float again. Instead, she drapes her arms around his shoulders, pressing her face against his neck.

Another contraction hits and he's starting to worry that Carol's not back yet. But Michonne's not worried, rocking on her knees against him. He can't do much other than speak softly in encouragement, rubbing his hands along her back where he can reach.

Just when he's really getting concerned, Carol appears.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I need to push."

Apparently he was right to be concerned. Carol does something just out of sight.

"The baby's crowning, Michonne, so whenever you're ready, you can push."

"Do you need to move?" he asks, and Michonne shakes her head, grinding her forehead against his shoulder. The only change she makes is widening her stance, spreading her knees, and nudging his legs out further.

With each contraction, she rocks downward into the water, making a pained sound against his skin. He isn't sure how much time has passed, other than it feels like forever until Carol orders one more push.

Michonne's entire body shudders, and the splash of Carol's hands in the water makes him catch his breath.

"I've got her, Michonne. She's so beautiful." The baby squalls, protesting as she's lifted clear of the water. Carol's quick, clamping and cutting the cord. Callie kicks and struggles against the strangeness of the world around her.

He helps Michonne turn in the water so she can take the baby, leaning her back on his chest. "Look at her, Chonne. Look at our beautiful girl."

She's singing softly to the baby, who is quiet now that she's got her mama back. Abraham reaches around to touch the baby's hair, carefully cupping his hand against her head.

"She's so damned tiny. Think all of her would fit in my hand."

Michonne turns her head, pressing a kiss against his jaw before her attention is back on their newborn. She laughs tiredly. "She's not that small."

The wet hair under his fingers is dark, but Callie's skin is as pale as his own. He knows from Michonne's explanation that that's likely to change over the next six months. How much it will change, they have no way of knowing.

The important part is that she's healthy and strong, already latching on when Michonne tugs the wet tank top off with his help.

Neither Carol nor Michonne comment when he begins to cry. But the gentle hand against his face as he watches his daughter's dark eyes is plenty of acknowledgement from her mother.

Between him and Michonne, and all their checkered cast of found family, Calanthe will grow up well prepared to conquer this world of theirs.

They'll make sure of it.

~*~ Carol ~*~

It's after supper will be underway when Carol leaves the new mother, father, and daughter resting. She's smiling widely when she steps inside the community center. Everyone is anxious for knowledge, so she doesn't even have to clap for attention.

"Calanthe Hawthorne Ford. Nine pounds, five ounces, healthy and strong like both her parents."

There's excited chatter instantly and Carol makes her way to sit beside Merle after asking Katherine to take food to the new parents.

"You look a bit energized for having just oversaw a delivery," Hershel comments.

"Honestly, I think they could have done it without me. I wouldn't be surprised if Michonne declines to leave home at all for their next one."

"Next one? What else did you find out today?" Merle asks.

"That they finally quit tiptoeing around what we've been seeing for two months now."

"Good. They both could use a second chance at being happy," Merle replies. He looks content at the idea, which shows how far Abraham came from his tempestuous introduction to Homestead.

"Nine pounds makes me want to change my mind about having another baby," Carol mutters. Can you imagine if the baby went full term or overdue? She could have been ten pounds!"

Hershel surprises her by laughing aloud even as Merle controls his. Her husband glances the same way she does, over each of his very tall children.

"Not a one of them was over seven pounds, Carol, I promise."

"Two of them were early, but I suppose you're right. Although Sophia was over eight pounds, so who knows with Ava."

Hershel looks toward his own pregnant daughter. "How did the water birth go? As easy as Denova's?"

"Really easy. It seemed to have the same relaxing effect for Michonne, so I think we'll start filling the pool each time. Even if a woman prefers not to actually give birth in it, it's a good tool for labor."

Merle finishes his bite of stew. "You're saying I should pack some swim trunks when the time comes, aren't you?"

She laughs, knowing he's probably right. Her love of the big tub in their bathroom will probably transfer over well. "Might be best, since you know Cricket's not going to sit that one out and one thing I can tell you about boxers is that they leave nothing to the imagination when wet."

Abraham might as well have been nude, stepping out of the birthing pool to dry off and dress. It's not that she minded the view, but she figures their children might not appreciate the same glimpse with Merle.

It just makes her husband laugh, and Hershel coughs when he swallows his tea wrong.

She links her fingers into Merle's and smiles happily. Each new baby safe and sound just keeps proving they're doing something right here.

~*~ Rick ~*~

"You got awfully quiet after Carol announced the baby," Rick says softly. They're still in the little apartment, although that's not for much longer. Their cabin across from Shane and Scout's is finished except for the interior thanks to a lot of help from their extended family.

He can imagine why Abraham's new baby would throw her off her game a bit. He felt similar about Judith. She declined to go visit this evening, so he's not sure how well the reality is setting in.

He knows it's different because they weren't together long and never married, and Michonne not a particular friend. But the base feeling of somehow not being enough? He thinks that might still apply.

She crawls onto the bed, straddling his thighs and studying him for a minute. "It's not regret, not really. More of a weird feeling. I'm actually glad it wasn't me, because I'm afraid we would have clung to what would never work just for family's sake."

Rick nods, understanding. He suspects if there had been any gray area around Judith's paternity, splitting up with Lori would have been much harder. Looking at how everyone is settled in now and happy, he's grateful they missed out on that scenario.

"I felt the same way when the dates on Lori's ultrasound meant the baby wasn't mine."

She flexes her hands, reaching out to trace his collarbones with her fingertips. "Would it be too much of an about face if I said I would like to not get my IUD replaced in November?"

He shakes his head slowly, enjoying her touch on his skin. "No, but they gave me no guarantees, you remember."

"I know. We leave it up to chance for a while. If it happens, it happens. And if it doesn't after a few years, then we try the alternatives."

"What made you change your mind?" He doubts it was just Abraham's daughter's arrival. She was pretty adamant that she didn't want to think about babies for another few years back in July.

"Talking to Jacqui. About how she waited for a family until adoption was the only option. And I don't like the idea of hoping someone needs to die for me to become a mother."

"That's not the only route, if my surgery is ineffective." He also suspects pregnancies like Andrea's may become more common as birth control supplies age and the younger ones come of age, too.

"I know, but I'm not sure there's anyone I would want to ask as a donor."

"Not even Eugene?"

Despite the man's former crush on Rosita, there's no denying he's well past it now. Honey doesn't seem the type to get hung up on it either. He's intelligent and crafty, a good combination in this world.

"Eugene is adamantly against potentially passing on his genetic differences. If he could convince the doctors to give him a vasectomy, he would."

"I would think with Honey, he would want a family." As young as Eugene's girlfriend is, and coming from such a huge family, Rick would assume she will eventually want children of her own.

"He's not opposed to Honey having all the children she wants. But with both their families having autism, he's petrified of the idea that combining them is too risky."

Rick supposes that makes sense. Jazz and Eugene are both high functioning, but gambling in a world where carrying for children is already risky, it is a daunting one. He supposes Eugene knows more about the statistics than most would.

"I guess that's something we tackle when the time comes, if it comes."

"And in the meantime, we practice to make sure we understand how it all works." Her expression is so mock solemn and serious that he laughs and rolls her beneath him.

Practice sounds perfect indeed.


	114. Feels Like a Fairy Tale

**September 19, 2011**

~*~ Merle ~*~

Merle hates to summon the council. The majority of them are at the infirmary, rejoicing over the two newest Homesteaders. Hell, he was there himself until he was needed to help Tyreese fit the final door on the tunnel and shelter system.

Every single major cluster of buildings are connected now, underground in a series of tunnels that can act as shelters all by themselves. But instead of three major scattered shelters, now there are eight. Only the horse farm isn't interconnected, because none of them feel confident burrowing under the river even at summer levels.

But now, people can go to ground, no matter if they're outrunning weather, fire, walkers, or invaders. No area of the property will require the sort of exposed running that so many people - so many _children_ \- had to endure. Once they need more, the tunnels can expand again.

The shelters aren't all that's underground now. After relying solely on the bunker for communications, this time, the main comms building has a bunker of its own. It's where Merle is, standing beside Michonne, where she's subbing in as watch so Dale can dote on his and Merle's shared new grandchild.

Shane's report is cautious. After the first Terminus and Woodbury, they all know they can't trust blindly. But they can't run completely paranoid, because that sort of behavior is how leaders like the Governor are born.

"Alert the council. I'm calling a meeting," he tells Michonne. She sends the alert, the non-emergency one, to their radios. He keys the external radio.

"Shane? Shift to the council channel."

His son-in-law acknowledges, and Merle steps through the dividing facilities room that makes the new comms and council area mimic the old above ground building. He settles in his chair at the table after powering on the radio.

It gives him time to note that Carol has painstakingly recreated her crop schedules and estimates, along with the ongoing project to strip Georgia of useful manmade supplies. Her preference to have such data for the council is part of why the underground building's main access point is nearest her office.

If he had his way, her office would be down here too, but she won that one on logic that they didn't want that much traffic down here. There's plumbing, electric, amd a rudimentary ventilation system, but only the comms room has regular climate control.

It doesn't take long for people to start trickling in, since most were up on the main property already. Carol, Patricia, and Hershel all look exhausted, but happy.

Maggie's labor dragged out twenty-nine hours, long enough that Amy went into labor as well, delivering a healthy son four hours before Hershel Shawn Rhee graced the world with his presence.

He was the lucky one to get to go home to his own bed, and while he knows Carol probably napped when she could, he fully intends to tuck her off the bed early. He settles her in her chair next to him, waiting until the door closes behind Scout as the last arrival. Carol's happy enough to let him massage her lower back while they wait.

As soon as she takes a seat, he gives in to the curious looks and keys the radio. "Shane? Why don't you tell us what you've found?"

"Three communities clustered near Savannah."

After all their time searching Georgia, and those travelling other states, Merle thinks everyone was almost lulled into thinking there might not be any more actual communities out there aside from the seven they know of. Or six and a half, considering Woodbury is still sharing property with Homestead until next spring.

Now there are _three_ more.

"Friendlies?" Tyreese asks, brow furrowed. He's been a lot more security conscious since the attack and a little less forgive and forget.

"Seems to be. And it's a good thing we brought Tiny along as a native. We found one of his mothers."

It is a positive, both in finding the man's sole remaining family and having an inside source of information. The woman qualifies as elderly too, no matter which mother, so it is a point in their favor to be caring for older residents.

"How many people?"

"The one in the gated community at Savannah is around forty. They call themselves Turtle Pointe after the neighborhood. The settlement out on Jekyll Island numbers sixty, and the little farm place has twenty or so. They were originally part of Turtle Pointe, but someone clued in they couldn't grow enough food to support eighty people in the confines of the gated community."

"Sounds like Alexandria originally." Carol looks thoughtful. Alexandria isn't caught up to the level the Kingdom and Hilltop are at being self-sufficient agriculturally, but they're getting there.

"They're open to trade. Most of Turtle Pointe is scavenged supplies, but they're smart with it. Really know where they can dig into the stores around the port. The farm is growing some things we can't, like citrus. They took over an existing farm and orchard and cobbled together fencing that's held up."

"And Jekyll?" Hershel asks. "I'm assuming they're taking advantage of the oceans and marshes."

"Exactly. There's no one down here that can manage more than chickens, and their hunters are limited. They are insistent on fair trade though. The idea of charity isn't sitting well."

"I'm sure you explained it isn't, but they don't know us yet. How are they set for medical?"

"One doctor at Turtle Pointe and a retired pediatric nurse out at Jekyll. Doc's trained up a nurse and working on another. Savannah's medical community got decimated. They didn't get any real government backup down here at all."

"How's the walker population?" Trust Scout to go for security.

"Pretty heavy in Savannah itself. Turtle Pointe survives because of the walls and being smart enough to rescue a small squad of National Guardsmen and their equipment. They travel the city like troops through a warzone."

"You'd think they would go out to the islands. It's got to be safer." Merle knows that in the multiple plans if Homestead ever fails, the barrier islands are Scout's favorite.

"By the time they realized there was no help coming, it was home. The doctor here agrees with Hershel that it's a matter of waiting out the walkers, and farming is easier further inland. I'm betting they'll be interested to hear about the farming setups at Homestead and Hilltop."

"Would they be open to us helping clear out the walker population or helping block off areas to trap them?" Merle asks. After seeing that Ezekiel's people blocked off the bridges into DC and hearing similar from the Kentucky marshals about Chattanooga, it's worth trying.

"Yeah, I think they would, but to be honest, I think the retired Naval officer running the place would prefer to plan such things in person."

"If you mean me, that's not an option for a few months," Merle replies.

"It should be fine for another month," Carol interjects.

Merle shakes his head. "Not taking the chance."

"Would it be safe to bring children down?" Scout asks, confusing Merle for a minute. "I could come down with Morgan. Military opinion from me, construction from him. Also gives us another council member."

Shane's quiet long enough to make the folks listening squirm, but it's a big call to make.

"We did promise Anaya she could see the ocean."

Scout laughs. "I'll get the teams planned. Will another sixteen people seem overwhelming for them?"

"Should be fine, especially with kids along. They're already thrilled with Eugene tinkering with their rudimentary electrical system."

"Any news on the train?" Merle asks. The steam engine at Savannah was the entire reason they sent Shane's teams deep into south Georgia.

"It should be intact, but getting there will be tricky. We'll wait on reinforcements."

"Give us forty-eight hours," Scout says.

They exchange information for another five minutes before Shane signs off.

Hershel looks around the room and takes a deep breath. "Always good to find other survivors out there in all the devestation."

Merle agrees. Many of their people have missing loved ones, so this sort of news gives them hope their families are out there somewhere.

~*~ Carol ~*~

Carol takes a seat next to Andrea at the bonfire they've arranged as a celebration of the double addition to Homestead today. It's almost too warm for it, being only mid-September, but it's cheerful and builds happy memories on the field that hosted ugly ones two months ago.

The bleachers are still here, but the field will be fully burned and reseeded for grass before the kids play again. Letting it serve as a communal bonfire location seems like a good transition.

"You look rather pensive tonight," she says, glancing to Jacqui on Andrea's other side. "Are you reconsidering the baby's custody?"

Carol isn't sure which answer she prefers. The baby staying with Andrea suits her motherly heart that can't imagine being separated from an infant. But Ezekiel and Harlan really have worked out a future for the boy in Virginia.

The blonde shakes her head. "Not in the least. Amy is having a harder time of it now that Isaac is here. I'm just debating how honest I should be with her about how I know I can cope with it."

"Know you can cope… oh." It clicks into place for Carol.

"I've given a baby up for adoption before. Amy doesn't know. She was so young that I didn't want to confuse her."

That explains Andrea's insistence that she'll be fine after Amy's tearful statement that she'll feel different once the baby is actually born.

"I was in my first year of law school. The baby's father was the most relieved man you ever saw when I asked him to sign the papers. And I did hold him for a few hours, just to see. That feeling I see mothers have when they hold their children? It never happened."

"Amd explaining it to someone who wants to be a parent is like speaking Swahili, isn't it?" Jacqui says. She looks like she understands far more than Carol does.

The older woman pats Andrea on the arm. "I never really felt the urge to grow a baby. Now, with the girls, sometimes I wonder what sharing DNA would be like. But it's not the end of the world that we don't."

Now that part, Carol does understand. Both babies today are her family the same way as Cricket's Meredith and the older grandchildren. The lack of blood tie even to Merle doesn't change that.

"Maybe you should tell Amy," Carol suggests. "It might help her understand and not worry so much."

"Even if something did click, at least I will know where he is and can ask for updates if I need to."

"Or travel to see him. It's not like you'll never go to Virginia again."

Andrea smiles faintly. "Maybe I should suggest that for her own attachment to him. I wonder sometimes of that's part of the problem."

"It could be. Her biological family is pretty small now." Carol thinks Amy doesn't have the complete confidence of her place in the larger Dixon clan yet. "And she grew up in a world that emphasized the importance of blood relationships. It's why adoption was always a complicated choice."

"I don't want to upset her with a newborn."

"Wait a couple of weeks. You have the time."

"So, do you think I could talk the med staff here into a tubal after the baby is born?"

"I don't see why not. It's not like the old hangups should really apply about age and 'you might change your mind'. Or my personal favorite, the obstetricians who require spousal consent." Carol thinks it over. "I'm fairly sure Cricket might perform a few unauthorized neuterings if any of the male staff tried most of those."

"I just don't trust the other options, and those might not last until I'm safely menopausal."

"I'll run it by Cricket and Caleb, although to be honest, Harlan might be your best choice."

"I think that might be a bit awkward, and I saw how the doctors pulled off the surgeries. I'm fine with our local doctors."

"Alright. Guinea pigs are always welcome."

Andrea laughs and the tension she's carrying eases. Carol may not understand her choice, but the fact that she can help find a permanent solution is definitely a good part of their new world.

~*~ Glenn ~*~

Glenn steps out onto the tiny back deck of the cabin and takes a deep breath of night air. Inside, his wife and newborn son are sound asleep. The long labor came as a surprise, even though the books and the older women all warned that Homestead was lucky so far with fairly short ones.

"You're looking a little poleaxed there, Glenn."

Cricket's voice in the dark startles him and he steps forward to where he can see her in the swing in her own backyard. Meredith is strapped to her chest in a sling, and Tara nowhere to be seen.

Having his best friend build directly behind him is exactly how perfect his life is these days. He hates that her home, the little apartment she loved so much was destroyed. But having a simple gate between his yard and hers? That's amazing.

Knowing he can hear the house with the baby monitor, he opens the gate and joins Cricket on the swing. Her little cottage is nothing even close ro a cabin. It reminds him of pictures from storybooks of English cottages. He knows Honey deliberately designed it that way, and no one even quibbled about searching out the stone for the walls versus easier wood.

"Watching them sleep got a little overwhelming."

"I understand. I get that way sometimes, too. It seems like it's too much happy for my heart to hold."

He laughs softly. "Yeah, exactly that. I mean, I love Maggie, and all my family here, but Hershel himself or Maggie and Hershel as a pair? It's hard to breathe."

"I wish I could say it gets better, but I still feel like I need CPR everytime I catch Tara and Christian napping together."

Glenn is quiet for a minute, just enjoying that he's not alone in the overwhelming feeling. "I will never understand how women give birth."

Maggie, exhausted and in pain, yet still the strongest person he's ever met as she pushed their son into the world. It's amazing… and terrifying.

"Maybe that's why you were born male." Cricket's tone is teasing.

"I have never been more grateful, yet guilty, at the same time." He looks at Meredith, such a thriving baby despite her somewhat early arrival. "Even with the worries, you're going to do it again, aren't you?"

"Providing my donor is willing, yes. I would prefer the genetics stay the same."

"Good luck on that." Glenn honestly doesn't know who Cricket chose. Maggie was willing and happy with the idea of him doing it, when he ventured the idea early in their relationship. It was a semi-drunken agreement he made with Cricket back when her future pregnancy was years of med school and residency away.

But in the end, she quietly told him she had a different idea, and he certainly wasn't offended. Now it means he can tease.

"You know, my son and your daughter are going to grow up together."

She giggles. "What if Hershel decides Christian's more his type?"

"I will enjoy our future shared adopted grandchildren then." Because he doesn't care in the least who his son loves. He just wants him to have someone he loves as much as Glenn loves Maggie or Cricket loves Tara.

"Tara's going to meet the new communities tomorrow. Took some pushing on my part and a reminder that you're right behind us and Lilly and Meghan will happily stay over."

"Not to mention you just have to crook your finger to get Jazz or Sophia to come running." It's one thing he's relieved about. Their extended family will make sure they succeed as parents.

"There are benefits to being part of the largest single family left in Georgia." She takes his hand and squeezes. "When you first showed up with that flyer in hand, could you have ever imagined this? Not the world ending part, but the sitting here, talking about our newborns."

"Not one bit. I was proud of managing to keep myself alive back then." He lived on Ramen and leftover pizza, enduring a series of useless roommates. Moving into the tidy little apartment with her was a godsend for his budget and sanity.

Look at him now. A home, a family, and responsibilities to his community. The reminder of Savannah kicks in. "You think there are other pockets like Savannah?"

"You know there have to be. If we managed this many people, others did too."

He mulls it over quietly until she squeezes his hand again. When she speaks, it's in Korean, and he closes his eyes as the language he learned so closely beside English that he's unsure which is his first language flows around him.

"Glenn, just imagine they're safe and holed up in some walled city in Michigan. People are resourceful, and it's not always the obvious ones."

"I know. But it feels like a fairy tale."

"Fairy tales are needed now as much as they ever were. The difference is that this one can come true one day, with a lot of luck."

He decides to believe her, and since the monitor shows no sign of Maggie or baby Hershel waking, he enjoys the companionship of his best friend and the wistful sounds of conversation in his native tongue.


	115. More Good People in the World

**October 2, 2011**

~*~ Shane ~*~

Shane yawns and stretches rolling over to find he's alone in the big bed. The air holds a chill that the fireplace doesn't entirely dispel. It's one of the downsides to staying on the island without it being fully converted for current electric capability yet.

When Scout's people arrived almost two weeks ago, it took her exactly an hour after her tour of Turtle Pointe to declare the first order of business was to clear out a secondary retreat. He understands her discomfort, as they've never lived anywhere with such masses of walkers swarming against the walls regularly.

How in the hell the people of Turtle Pointe manage, he will never understand, but that may explain how twitchy they are compared to the islanders or even their own farming contingent.

The weather is nice enough during the day, but the nights are dipping into the forties as fall takes full hold of the temperature. He slides out of bed and dresses quickly, but doesn't build up the fire for likely the same reason Scout didn't. They've got a busy day ahead.

Shane finds his wife and elder daughter on the veranda with breakfast between them. Anaya remains as fascinated by the ocean now as when she arrived and they cleared Tybee Island. It could be freezing cold or a hurricane blowing in, and she is going to be as near a beach as they allow.

He kisses his daughter on the temple before a less chaste greeting to his wife and settles into the empty chair. Scout pushes a foil wrapped packet toward him with a smile and pours him some coffee.

"Not my cooking. Jacqui grilled everything before she and Jim went out on patrol." Scout flashes him an impish smile.

Shane grins and takes a bite of the egg filled burrito. They may not have the island converted yet, but Carol supplied them well. The already solar and propane stable RVs are serving for food storage and some cooking while Eugene and Honey set up some sort of electrical system that will apparently convert tidal action.

"How long have you two been up?" he asks, enjoying the coffee. Eventually it'll run out, and some already shows that it's not a long-term storage item.

"Since dawn. We went fishing off the pier."

"And you left me behind?"

Anaya giggles. "Tåta, you mumbled that we were obsessed and were going to turn into a fish."

There is a foggy memory of being woken up. Scout's interest in the water is almost as bad as Anaya's. He teased her a few days ago, about being born on an island showing even nearly thirty years later. Outside of her youth, he knows she spent most of her life near oceans.

"You working with Honey and Eugene today?" he asks Anaya.

She nods, making her loose braids bob around her head. "Eugene says I have better math and mechanical skills than most grownups."

That's the other benefit to them clearing out Tybee. It's a fallback for the two land-based communities closest to Savannah and likely the future home of Woodbury. But for right now, it's the ability to allow Anaya and a handful of other kids to be here and be safe without a large group of adults.

Shane just wishes travel to and from Homestead felt safer. He thinks that Lori, Daryl, and the other three kids would love it here too, but traveling with infants makes everyone nervous. Maybe once Savannah is more stable.

"You must have summoned them," Scout says, tone fond as her sister and Eugene emerge from the house.

The beach house is one typical for rentals along the island. Three floors, meant as much for a group to rent as a single family. Shane bets a week here cost nearly five grand back in the old world. The big room he and Scout share takes up an entire floor and feels almost too open after more than a year in their cabin.

Their teams, along with any significant others and older children up for travel, are spread out among a group of neighboring former rentals. It means that Anaya's been sharing a room with Jim and Jacqui's girls, renewing their old friendship from Terminus.

Honey eyes the food packets warily for a moment until Eugene, who never seems to worry about who cooked, takes his first bite.

"Think you'll get the hydro up and running today?" Scout asks once Eugene's halfway through his food and coffee and looks more awake.

"That is the current plan. It will not power the entire island by any means, but it should suffice to run our little neighborhood. Once everything is in working order, we can use a larger model to expand capacity."

"We'll send a new supply list to Homestead if the tests all pass today," Honey adds. "We've got plenty of fish and seafood to send back."

From the safety of the island, those not involved in the mess in Savannah have been catching, prepping and freezing plenty of seafood that Homesteaders really haven't seen in a year and a half. They've had plenty of freshwater fish, but the saltwater varieties will be welcomed.

Jocelyn and Brandy emerge, looking sleepy, but join in breakfast easily once it is confirmed their parents are out and about. The girls emerging seems to start a trend, because there's movement all along the row of houses. Scout rises and heads inside to finish gearing up.

The one good thing about lower temps is that at least they aren't melting in their uniforms. Shane only needs his vest with its extra gear to be fully ready, so he lingers a bit.

"If you get back in time, maybe we can take the kayaks out?" Anaya asks, looking hopeful.

"You just want to see if the dolphins will swim up again."

He's been to Tybee often enough to know how diverse the wildlife and sealife is, but with human and boat traffic non-existent, it's like the animals are already forgetting humans aren't always friendly. Jim's a firm no on kayaking, although it seems more a dislike of the water than old memories. But that leaves him, Scout, and Jacqui to paddle the girls around.

Eventually, they'll be able to paddle the rivers, but for now, the opposite banks aren't safe enough. The girls' enjoyment makes him glad they're securing and populating the island.

"Of course I want to see dolphins again, Tåta. Who wouldn't?"

Shane laughs as he gets up from the table. "Be good for your aunt and uncle."

Anaya nods and Eugene gives that odd startle reaction when his brain makes the connection between himself and 'uncle' that amuses the hell out of Shane.

By the time they're loaded up and to the barrier they've erected to keep the island walker free, it's after eight, but he doesn't mind. None of them have the desperate push of the first year on getting anything done. Securing Savannah isn't the urgent task it would have been a year ago.

When they pass the road that goes out to Turtle Pointe, there are Humvees and military cargo vehicles waiting. It's back to another day of making walker movement out of Savannah complicated for the unthinking undead.

Each vehicle has passengers steadily thinning out walkers as they drive.

"Fucking lucky in some ways they told them to evacuate to Jacksonville here," Rick mutters as he navigates a mini-herd. "Or this might be an impossible task without being willing to firebomb the city like the military did."

Shane laughs, watching as walkers fall randomly aroumd them. They're not in the troop carrier Humvees for these trips. Instead, they appropriated the ones with gun turrets, but instead of using the noisy and inefficient 50 cal on walkers, their snipers are using the high end pellet rifles instead.

"I'm pretty sure Scout and the navy guy are both wishing they could risk it."

Vince, one half of the Turtle Pointe leadership, is a militant enough guy that Shane was initially hesitant that he would be respectful of a female NCO. His retired rank is one higher than Scout's, the first of any of their military - active, discharged, or retired - to outrank her other than Welles. But after their initial meeting, the blond, who is at least Merle's age, just nodded and handed her the lead in the field.

Shane didn't miss the way the man studied the burn scars. He supposes they're a rank unto themselves, among those who served. His co-leader, Jorge, seems equally respectful of Scout.

"Well, I'm glad they haven't. I'm surprised we didn't have more wildfires, between Columbus, Atlanta, Jacksonville, and Chattanooga all being bombed," Rick says, angling the wheel so that the enhanced front gear on the Humvee acts as a scythe of sorts. It doesn't kill the walkers, but at least they're immobilized, and that's the objective here.

That was a chilling bit of information from the Jekyll Island group, just how Jacksonville left the map. Atlanta was the most haphazard, hastily done probably by undersupplied pilots. But Chattanooga is more rubble than city, and Columbus a hodgepodge that at least decimated the walker population.

Jacksonville is damn near obliberated. Whoever carried out orders there had enough troops and supplies to bomb on ground level as well as by air. Scout suspects, from her brief visit across the border, that they used ships to level the city. Where those ships went, no one knows, but they haven't been seen by Jekyll Island since.

Nearly one million people once inhabited the Florida city. It's not the culprit sending walker herds into the area.

"Switch out," Danny calls down from the turret. He angles the spent air rifle down to T-Dog, who passes up a fresh gun and proceeds to refill the air tank. Maria elected to lead her own team, so Danny stayed with them after the search was over.

Shane knows it is so the youngest Marine can keep an eye on his NCO's spouse in the field. He doesn't mind the youth's extra oversight of his safety, and it amuses the hell out of Rick.

"Are we about to the barrier yet?" T-Dog asks.

"About another mile," Rick answers.

"Alright. Let me know at a half mile so I can gear up."

That distance closes quickly, and they are back to the grind: forming a haphazard border around Savannah. It isn't meant to be a true wall, but more of a corral. The fewer walkers that can mobilize at once, the better.

Shane and T-Dog are the boots on the ground pair for their team. He thinks it would take a damned tiger to bite through the gear they're in, down to heavy gloves. They and others work to hook abandoned vehicles to the wreckers, which drag them to a workable position where they can be dropped again. Since no one cares about damage, the wreckers just jam the disabled vehicles into the prior one. When buildings or sturdy fencing is available, they utilize that, too.

Rinse, lather, repeat, all with the Humvees and snipers making sure no herds build up to swarm them.

After three hours, they retreat out of range of the walkers and take a break to eat. Then they switch roles, with Rick and Danny on the ground and Shane at sniper.

By three, they call it a day. No one wants to be outside barriers here at dusk. The Homesteaders pause at the intersection where they part ways and Shane and Scout go to join Vince and Jorge.

Jorge is rubbing at his arm, and when the tall, dark-skinned man catches Shane's curious look, he shrugs. "Our driver hit too big of a monster speedbump and jammed me into the turret. I'll have the doc look at it."

"I'm sure Mary will deliver a lecture on leaving it to the younger men along with your ice pack," Vince comments. The blond looks as ready to get out of gear as Shane feels, even if it's Vince's physician wife delivering the age lectures.

"You remind me why I remain blessedly single, old friend." Jorge's words seem more teasing than serious, especially since Shane's met his daughter, Brenda, and suspects he's a widower and not a divorced man. He reminds Shane of Bryce in a lot of ways… a thin veil of grief surrounding him despite efforts to appear jovial.

"Yesterday's wall count for monster numbers is still showing much lower levels. I don't know how much is the barrier slowing them down and how much is the ongoing slaughter we're doing, but it's giving everyone hope."

Vince does look less overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of his leadership task now than he did when Shane first met him. Turtle Pointe has spent over a year taking the brunt of the walker migration out of Savannah. Like Terminus before them, they've indirectly served as a barrier to larger herds emerging toward Homestead.

They're better suited to it than Terminus was at Atlanta, with thick stone walls that were already six feet before the virus and are now topped by a razor wire contraption that adds another three feet. They just can't grow easily when the time comes and aren't comfortable expanding beyond what they can physically patrol and protect, unlike Homestead or Hilltop.

"We're happy to do it. No one likes the idea of a hundred thousand walkers free to roam Georgia," Shane says.

Prior to the fall of the city, Savannah hosted over three hundred thousand in its metro area, but significant numbers fled to the supposed safety of Jacksonville, Atlanta, and Charleston and their military bases.

"Some days, I almost think the hippies down at Jekyll got it right and we should pull back, but dammit, this is our home now."

"We understand completely, believe me," Scout replies. "We'll see you same time tomorrow?"

Vince nods and the leader pair bids them farewell before making their way to separate vehicles.

When Shane and Scout turn, their teams have shuffled vehicles, and he just shakes his head when he sees Danny's in the seat Scout vacated, grinning. Scout laughs and follows him to slide into the seat behind Rick. There's the muffles thump of a walker body hitting the ground as Shane rounds the Humvee to the other rear passenger seat.

Eager to disperse the engine noise to avoid attracting more unwanteds, the caravan gets underway. He tugs off his gloves, linking fingers with Scout. He missed being out in the field with her. Even leading separate teams, the proximity settles him instead of how the months of alternating searches clawed at him.

They park the Humvees off island long enough to fire up a purloined fire truck and blast walker gore off their exteriors. No sense tracking it onto the island. It's followed by barely warm showers and clean clothes just across the bridge.

After all this time, Shane still isn't faster in showering and dressing in civvies than his career Marine wife, so he isn't surprised when she slips her arms around his waist before he's got a shirt on. He turns in her embrace to enjoy the feel of her against him, breathing in the citrus scent that lingers from her shampoo with her hair loose.

"Another day with everyone back safe," he says. She nods against his shoulder. The losses in June still haunt her, even though she wasn't the sole planner for the Woodbury attack. Even with fifty Homesteaders here on Tybee at night and twenty left behind during the day, he knows she can't help that unease of leaving such a small group behind all day.

"Our luck holds." Her kiss is just this side of polite for semi-public shared changing areas. "Honey sent word that Jekyll has a boat up with crates of home canned citrus and two dozen avocado plants as part payment toward those medical supplies and equipment Merle's supposed to send down."

Although Vince refers to the Jekyll Island group as hippies, they aren't really. Shane can understand their wish to not keep digging through the remains of dead cities, even when it means a very low-tech, living off the land lifestyle. They're safe enough on the island to be able to pull it off, using the sailboats to navigate the coastline.

But they proved very willing to trade items that are becoming luxuries for north Georgia - like citrus - for the ability to set up a good medical center for their people. There's a difference between living off the land and true suffering for a lack of technology.

"Did Joanna or Jack come this time?" he asks. The leadership pair from Jekyll are a bit of a mismatched pair. Jack is a tall Asian man who is blunt enough to make even Scout wince at times. Johanna is one of the sweetest natured women Shane's ever met, but something about her makes him think she's the dangerous one of the pair despite her bright smiles and soft, flowing skirts she wraps over the leggings she wears to sail in.

"Johanna. Jack is apparently caught up in studying those guides Eugene's been writing for maintaining electrical grids."

"I sense our next trade being Eugene and Honey building them a hydro system." Shane tugs on a shirt and threads his knife and holster back on his belt. "Lead the way."

They hitch a ride to their row of beach houses, where Johanna has her small crew setting up camp for the night. It's possible to sleep on the boat, but he figures they like being able to spread out a little.

Johanna smiles as they approach, greeting them warmly. "We brought supper for everyone." She motions to the big pots being set up to cook. "If you haven't grown tired of seafood yet."

"I'm not sure that's possible," Scout admits, making Shane laugh.

"Where is your sweet little daughter?"

"I'm surprised she isn't underfoot asking you a million questions," Shane admits. Anaya is fascinated by the catamaran as much as any other boat.

"Depends on where Eugene is with the hydro. She's equally obsessed with how that is going to work," Scout notes.

"While we are here, do you think your young engineer would walk us through the process to see how viable it is for our island? Renewable power seems much more feasible than trying to keep fuel stable for the necessary generators."

"I don't think Eugene or Honey either one could turn down an audience," Shane answers. "I'll tell them to meet with you over supper."

The plump woman accepts that idea happily. "Don't let me keep you. I know you usually take the girls out. The dolphins were at play when we sailed in."

On that happy tip, they part ways to go find Anaya.

Shane thinks their still unfulfilled getting that steam engine is leading to far more benefits that an alternative transport for goods and animals. It's nice to find more good people in the world after Woodbury.


	116. Forever

**October 15, 2011**

~*~ Denise ~*~

Being back at Alexandria feels like a healed toothache. When Denise originally agreed to serve as their primary doctor months ago, she dreaded the idea like she dreaded the dentist back when such a profession still existed. It was a worrisome, niggling pain, like her cracked tooth she ignored for months back in medical school.

But just like that ignored tooth, the reality is far less painful than expected. She lost the tooth, leaving a gap in her molars where the skin of the gums roughens occasionally and reminds her it once was more than a gap. Alexandria is the past, and Homestead is her reality now.

It helps that the rotation of doctors means that every trace of Pete Anderson has been effectively obliterated from the infirmary at Alexandria. Someone even rearranged the whole thing so not one single piece of furniture is in the same place. The curtains are even different, courtesy of a Solomons doctor who sewed in his spare time.

It may also be because she didn't come alone for the trip. Technically, Jasper Dixon is in Virginia for veterinary rounds, but instead of basing out of Hilltop, he's been staying at Alexandria. She should probably not be grateful that a young man who still relies on her counseling skills is too protective to leave her alone at Alexandria, but the doctor-patient line is definitely not one that can be drawn too boldly these days. There aren't too many people Jazz is comfortable spending time with, so she counts herself lucky he sees a friend as well as a psychiatrist when he looks at her.

Having Jazz along means that more often than not, Jesus is in Alexandria, acting as Jazz's escort back and forth to other communities for his veterinary work. Seeing the two go out on horseback gives her a flashback to the old west shows she watched as a child, like Little House on the Prairie. Jazz just needs some sort of wagon for his medical gear to complete the picture.

Today isn't one of his days to travel, so he's sitting quietly at what is normally the nurse's place in the infirmary, out in the foyer of the converted house. Occasionally, he'll call out a question or ask for clarification on something in the nursing textbook he's reading.

Denise finishes the inventory of the medication cabinets and locks the clipboard in her drawer for data entry later. The computer system at Homestead and Hilltop is now installed at all the communities, with each working to add to its usefulness for the allied communities as a whole. Even the new ones came online this week. She wonders how stunned they were to return to having computer systems on top of the minimal electricity they kept running.

"Good afternoon, Aaron. Anything good on today's run?" Jazz asks as Denise hears the door open.

The curly-haired supply runner grins at Jazz, swinging a laden duffel bag. "Found one of those new age homeopath places that no one's bothered."

"More supplements to research," Denise notes. "Or are all of these identified on our wanted list?"

"About half and half." Aaron passes the bag over. "Eric will bring the boxes of the glass vials and supplies over once they've unloaded the rest of the non-medical supplies. Place must have just reordered or liked a huge backstock, because we have three boxes of the colored vials and bottles."

She unzips the bag and smiles. "Good haul of calendula." It's one that research they can access and the various medical professionals all assess to be effective. Even better, unlike about half of the herbs, oils, and other concoctions from the homeopathic shops, they can actually grow calendula and replace stock.

No one thinks their manufactured medicines will last forever. Some will probably last Denise's lifetime, simply because there's no need for large quantities of certain medication. Others, like antibiotics and birth control, will eventually run out. Immune boosters like calendula will always be valuable.

"Eric's got a basket full of rose hips he'll process for you before bringing it by for distribution."

"Could he do the mint mix for my personal tea again? I'm about out."

Aaron laughs. "That one is a bit addictive, isn't it? I don't think he'll mind. Mint is definitely something we have plenty of."

That was part of the new knowledge Denise is taking in, not just to prepare and dispense the natural medications as substitutes or replacements of manmade stocks, but how to grow them. She wonders what Dennis would think, seeing his black thumb twin managing to successfully tend an actual herb garden in the greenhouse that dominates what was once the backyard when the infirmary was a house.

Mint is pretty much an invasive, so it grows so well just about anywhere it puts down roots. Without people to keep it confined to pretty gardens, none of the communities even have to cultivate the herb. Supply runners just learn to identify it and bring heaps back.

Coffee and tea, the sort they're used to from life before, are a limited resource. Even going further afield to find more stashes in warehouses won't help after a while, because neither beverage will last in the long term. What Denise's future children will drink will be a stale imitation of the habit that got her through medical school.

Natural caffeine sources that grow easily in the south eastern United States are rare, if you use old world values. While Denise did try the yaupon holly tea Eric offered her, she soon decided she would far rather wean herself off any need for caffeine than depend on that as a daily drink. Somehow she slid sideways into the mint teas popular among the Dixon clan. Maybe it lacks the caffeine boost of coffee or a good cup of black tea, but it generally perks her up plenty.

Or maybe she's finally in a place in her life where she doesn't need a boost to enjoy her day.

"Will Jesus be here this evening?" Aaron asks, turning toward Jazz.

The younger man shrugs. "I think so. He went with the supply exchange down to Hilltop. Solomon is meeting them there to send fish back up instead of sending two deliveries here and there. They'll need to get that sorted fairly quickly."

Denise almost feels her tummy rumble at the idea of fresh fish coming in from Solomon. The mixed community of scientists and locals does a good job of providing fish and seafood in exchange for all the things their island can't provide in quantity.

"The kitchen crew will be working overtime tonight, I bet," she comments.

Unlike Homestead, Alexandria doesn't run a centralized cafeteria to feed to the populace. Calling the team of men and women who are pulled from other duties to can, dry, and otherwise process food for storage the kitchen crew is a bit of a misnomer, because they don't serve anything to the populace. But it's what stuck, once Alexandria realized they couldn't live off old world canned goods forever.

"We found a couple of stashes of canning jars this run, too. Not enough to add to trade goods, but enough to stop Spencer from going prematurely gray."

Denise giggles, despite knowing it's not entirely kind. The transformation of preppy, rich boy Spencer Monroe is one that is still hard for her to grasp. While he was never one to sit around and let others do all the work, like she often felt his mother did, the young man took over Olivia's old duties as quartermaster after Pete's attempted murder of Deanna. In one of the early conversations they had about infirmary inventory, he quietly admitted he thinks anyone who wants to lead a community ought to have to spend half their day shadowing the supply keeper.

Aaron smiles, though. "He's growing up, Denise. With his sheltered background, he's come a lot further than I ever expected him to do."

"Well, the fact that he realized you and Eric were a better source of training and information than his mother is definitely a point in his favor." Deanna might have been an educated, able leader for a world where paperwork and laws dominated, but Aaron and Eric have quietly revealed that almost all of the current progress is due to Spencer's burgeoning leadership and Reg's support of his older son's willingness to step up. Deanna isn't much more than a figurehead these days, and Aiden is just muscle for the run teams.

Even better, the fact that Spencer is firm friends with the only gay couple in Alexandria means the careful bubble around Aaron and Eric's relationship being openly acknowledged has been burst. They aren't outsiders in the same way they were when Denise lived here.

"He's been corresponding with my mother since the radio email system went live, too," Jazz says. It gets both Aaron and Denise's full attention.

"Seriously?" Aaron asks. He sounds proud of Spencer's initiative.

Jazz nods, dark curls sliding forward. Denise notes idly that he's overdue for a haircut and wonders if he would allow her to trim it up. Then again, he could be allowing it to grow out, like many of the men seem to be doing now that workplace standards don't restrict them to shaven faces and short hair.

"Mama did start it, because she made contact with all of the people doing quartermaster jobs in each community. I think they have some sort of group email thing going now."

With Jazz's habit of studying in Carol's office back at Homestead, Denise isn't surprised he's privy to the process. She's often wondered at how widespread the youth's training is becoming, especially after both Merle and Carol separately confided in her that they don't think Jazz will be staying in Georgia.

Like Honey, she thinks they expect he'll be moving forward into leadership somewhere one day. As much as Denise wishes it was at her chosen home, Homestead has a much larger base for future leadership. She now wonders if it will be Hilltop or one of the others that will benefit as Jazz's future homebase. Ezekiel's been trying to recruit him since the day Jasper Dixon fearlessly made friends with Shiva.

"You think they might pull Eric into the loop on that?" Aaron asks.

It makes sense to Denise, considering Eric's unofficial job of providing Alexandria with all things botanical that aren't necessarily grown in the town's now-extensive gardens and greenhouses.

"I'm sure Mama wouldn't mind. Just tell him to email her and she'll loop him in and catch him up. She wanted me to ask if you and Eric were still intending to visit when Denise and I go home."

Denise perks up at the idea. "You definitely should go. Stay the whole month. You have got to experience Homestead in holiday mode." While she wasn't there for last year's Thanksgiving and Christmas season, she's heard many tales of how the community celebrated. If it's anything like the big wedding back in July, she doesn't want to miss it.

"The weather should hold, and I know Eric wouldn't mind getting to jaunt through the Georgia countryside to see what differs from Virginia and West Virginia. With winter creeping our way, I think we can be spared that long, if we'll be welcome."

Denise grins. "One thing about Homestead is that no matter how crowded it may get, they will always make room for friends to visit."

"I'll tell Eric. And I'd best get back to helping unload before he thinks I've left him to it and he hides my supper tonight."

Considering Eric's rather tasty cooking, Denise doesn't blame Aaron for not wanting to miss out on any of it. She's been staying in their spare room, a decision made more because Eric will feed her than because it's just more comfortable staying with them than on her own in a town she no longer fits into. Jazz and Jesus stay with them as well, whenever they're in Alexandria overnight.

"What is for supper tonight?" Jazz asks, even as Aaron heads for the door.

"I'm not entirely sure," Aaron answers, "but if that fish makes it up here soon enough, you know he'll be putting some of our rations toward it."

"Don't forget to use mine as well," Denise adds. Eric does often forget that Denise is being 'paid' like any other Alexandrian. She makes a mental note to ask Spencer to transfer any remaining ration credits into Eric's account when she leaves, since she doesn't need to take anything in trade to take back home for her surplus.

Aaron nods and heads back out into the comfortable October day.

Jazz goes to the door and looks out. "Might rain this evening. That'll be fun travelling in." But he doesn't seem worried about Jesus being outside the walls, so Denise just smiles.

"How about I quiz you on the fluid and electrolyte chapter until shift change?" she offers. While Alexandria still lacks a full-time doctor, one of the nurses trained at Solomons took up residence here after marrying a local guard for Alexandria. Her husband works the night shift, so it makes for an easy way for the infirmary to be staffed around the clock.

Jazz smiles and passes her the textbook, leaning back in the chair at the nurse's desk and falling into the relaxed state she is familiar with from helping him study since they've been at Alexandria.

Yeah, she may have dreaded this month of medical duty once, but now? It's just nice to see that Alexandria is moving forward instead of stagnating.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

Paul crosses the hall to the guest room, still toweling his hair off after his shower. Even though he didn't actively handle the fish, crab, and oysters that Solomon sent in big food-grade barrels to Alexandria, the scent just seems to cling to skin, hair, and clothing regardless. Jazz is sitting cross-legged on the bed with his headphones in, fingers drumming along the edge of the book he's reading.

He drapes the towel over the footboard of the bed, which makes Jazz look up, smiling, and switch off the music. Jazz winds the cord of the headphones around the old phone he still uses as a music player.

"What are you reading tonight?" Paul asks, running his comb through his damp hair.

"_The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks_. I know a lot of it doesn't apply anymore, but it's interesting anyway." He offers the hardback to Paul to read the dust jacket.

"The idea of human experimentation gives me one hell of a chill," he says, making Jazz nod. "We probably aren't beyond that, even now."

"It's pretty much what we do with the two diabetic women, but at least they're aware of how much is going on. I'm a little weirded out because of how new a term informed consent is for medical research." Jazz indicates a stack of books. "Ezekiel gave me a bag of books he thought I might find interesting reading for the human side of medicine."

Paul looks through some of the titles and nods thoughtfully. His classes in college touched here and there on medical ethics, but not this in depth. "It's not just about patching people back together, is it?"

"No. But I still prefer animals. That might be an entirely different set of ethics reading though. At least there's no PETA these days."

"The apocalypse did us a few favors there." Vegetarianism is definitely not a thing for their level of society at present, although he knows there are a few people at Hilltop that are grateful enough protein comes in as fish and seafood that they can avoid the lamb and wild game that graces their tables there. He figures there are a few in every community like that.

Jazz nods, scratching at his chin. He hasn't gotten used to not shaving yet. Even now, he's compromised with a closely trimmed beard that lines his chin and jaw, connecting to an equally tended mustache.

Paul's almost a little jealous at how quickly the facial hair grew in, because Jazz would end up with a full beard in less than two months if he stopped shaving entirely. It took Paul nearly six months the first time he opted for a full beard back in college, and he was three years older than Jazz at the time. But the changes it makes for the younger man's face are exactly why he knows Jazz stayed clean shaven for years. People already mistake Jazz for his early twenties due to his sheer size. Add in the beard and the still vivid scar from the attack on Homestead, and Paul bets he wouldn't get carded going into clubs or bars in the old world.

He feels a little guilty, because he knows part of the reason for the facial hair is to avoid sidelong looks at their age difference, although most wouldn't believe Jazz is only sixteen, especially here in Virginia. They just assume he's older than Honey, whose age is well known. Very few outside of family and close friends like Aaron and Eric believe their relationship is still firmly platonic by most definitions of the word.

"Want to watch a movie?" he asks. It's not late enough they have to sleep yet, but the advance of autumn shortens the days enough for everyone to retire. Their hosts were half-gone on homebrewed wine by the end of supper, leaving Paul, Jazz, and Denise to be amused when they slipped off up the stairs as soon as there were volunteers for dishes.

"Sure. Pick something out."

While Jazz stacks his current book back on the pile of the ones Ezekiel gifted him, Paul sets up the laptop Jazz drags almost everywhere nowadays. The scanned veterinary texts on it are Jazz's pride and joy, especially since it was a gift presented by various family members the first time he ventured north to do solo veterinary rounds. But it also works really well for movies.

Shuffling through the DVDs in the stack Aaron and Eric collected for guests, he finds a copy of _Mission to Mars_ and figures that suits well enough. By the time he's got it started, Jazz is curled under the quilt with pillows piled to easily let Paul sit against the headboard. Watching television or reading lying on his side, like Jazz regularly does, spawns headaches he prefers to do without.

The fact that it levels out their height difference is a bonus. The last time Jazz let someone measure him, back around his birthday in August, he's officially the tallest person at Homestead, a half inch taller than Big Tiny. It now puts him over a foot taller than Paul.

As soon as he settles into bed, Jazz turns his thigh into a pillow, already intent on the opening credits. He smiles up at Paul. "You remembered I have the documentary he narrates."

Paul does make it a priority to remember trivia like that. Jazz is known to half-doze through movies, relying more on listening to voices than seeming to need to watch. Memorizing the actors and actresses whose voices he prefers is just a natural habit at this point. Gary Sinise is one of Jazz's favorites.

"It's not as good as _Apollo 13_, but it's not terrible either."

Jazz just hums, never very worried about critical opinion of the movies he enjoys. It's probably a good thing nowadays, with the number of movies very finite.

As he rests his hand on Jazz's head and finger combs the silky black curls, it doesn't take long for him to drift his fingers to the different texture of the beard along Jazz's jaw. That's the other reason for the facial hair, the one that overrides any guilt about the public reason Jazz stopped shaving his face baby smooth. Where skin to skin contact is still often tricky, the beard is much like Jazz's hair. He damn near purrs at the contact.

Even as his thought process of himself drifts more and more back to 'Paul' the more he spends time with the Dixons, he delights in all the little extras their relationship brings. Jazz feared it was too much work, adapting around his differences.

Paul just finds that it gives him hope, eliminating the complexity of early physical intensity. Most of his college relationships fizzled once that intense surge of brain chemistry spawned by lust passed.

This? What he has with Jazz? It's a slow rewiring of every part of him that used to rush blindly into everything personal, even when the choices led to hurt and recoil later.

He honestly can't wait to see where it leads.

~*~ Olivia ~*~

Olivia hesitates, hand gripping the small plastic stick in her pocket. Bryce's arrival in July shocked and thrilled her. There was no mistaking his intent when Audrey climbed out of the vehicle behind him. He wouldn't bring his niece north if it were just a visit.

Hilltop certainly delighted in his relocation. She's never seen so many nosy folks testing the man out, once he was theirs and not on loan from Homestead. Olivia can't complain, considering it meant that Bryce got plenty of help in building the first of several cabins like Homestead has down near the inside of the old fortified wall.

Once he started building his own home, it encouraged others to realize that the trailers aren't a long-term housing option. They aren't even the usual, sturdy mobile homes marketed to the public. Everyone here remembers the scandals of the FEMA trailers, and while these are supposed to be better than the ones that made the news after Katrina, the rush to relocate away from them is almost comical.

She adores their little home, although that's as far as their discussion has truly gone about their relationship, moving in with each other. He built the cabin, with the girls helping like the burliest of old world construction workers. The two bedroom cabin is gorgeous, the prettiest place Olivia's ever lived, and that includes her sojourn in Barrington House. This is hers, decorated to her taste, not a museum returned to actual living use.

Enid and Audrey get along well. Their shared history of being on their own, outside solid walls and with parents and siblings lost to them, is a bond no one else can compete with. Audrey's sweet nature softens a few of Enid's sharper edges. Enid's craving to roam outside the walls seems to have tapered off some. She still travels occasionally between the Virginia communities with Jesus if it's a delivery visit and not a scouting one, but lately, sharing the huge upstairs loft with Audrey seems to be her area to be content.

"You look worried," Bryce says, hanging his jacket on the hooks by the door and kicking his boots into the waiting rubber tray. He's been outside doing the evening rounds of the livestock, making sure all the pens are securely locked that need to be. "Girls okay?"

"They're fine. Went to bed early because Audrey's on breakfast shift in the morning." She gives him a smile she knows isn't truly joyful, because he's right, she is worried.

"Liv?" Now he's worried, too, coming to sit beside her on the couch and capturing the hand she doesn't have jammed down in her pocket.

"This is permanent, between us, right?" she asks, taking comfort from the warmth of his hand in hers.

"As long as you want it to be." He smiles, teeth white against his dark beard. "Please tell me you aren't worried about that."

She shouldn't be, because once she kissed him senseless when he arrived and said he was here to stay, he's never hesitated in softly telling her that he loves her. There's a need in him to voice the emotion, one that she knows traces back to losing his wife, and she returns the sentiment with feeling each time.

But this relationship is something only cemented for just over two months, and they've skipped a very important step in their conversations.

"Do you want children?"

Bryce stills, green eyes searching her face intently. "Yes. Is that what you want? You have Enid and I have Audrey. I just figured…"

Olivia hates the hesitation she sees, that he thinks he's assumed something that might not be true, from their equal ability to raise children not their own. There is a difference between fostering a teenager and actually having children, she supposes.

"I do." Feeling a little reassured because he seems afraid she isn't on the same page, she slides the incriminating little stick out of her pocket and offers it to him. The one and only discussion they had about birth control was that first night at Homestead, when she confirmed she had it covered.

Bryce takes it, the beginnings of a smile showing as he studies the pink lines. His eyes are bright and happy when he looks back up. "Have you seen Harlan yet?"

"Yeah. This afternoon. He did the blood test and scheduled a scan to figure out the dates." With her irregular cycle even with birth control, she really has no idea on the conception time other than obviously sometime since the end of July. "We're supposed to see him in the morning."

If she had any doubts that he's happy about it, they're disbursed entirely by being gathered into his lap as he kisses her hungrily. She responds, and the only thing that finally brings them to a halt is the reminder they have two impressionable teenage girls in the house.

"We're going to be parents, Liv," he says against her lips. She can feel his grin, so wide it probably hurts his cheeks. "I love you so damned much."

All the anxiety of the birth control mishap flees in the midst of how happy he sounds.

"I love you, too."

The world had to end for her to find him, but Olivia thanks her lucky stars for all the coincidences that aligned to bring the Georgians and Virginians together.

She's keeping this lovely man forever.

* * *

_A/N: I am working on Jesus/Paul drifting back to thinking of himself as something more than his public persona of Jesus that he's had since the apocalypse. Others will probably continue to refer to him as Jesus, outside the Dixon family, so expect some seesawing a bit in the remainder of RBM and into ISO._

_RBM's life expectancy: While long planned to run through May 2012, I am going to have the final chapters be New Year's posts that rotate through various major (and important minor) characters and where their lives stand as of the end of the year. _


	117. Smoke Blue Eyes

**October 31, 2011**

~*~ Daryl ~*~

Daryl steps lightly in the undergrowth, hand going up to signal his fellow hunters he's spotted something. Glancing back, he sees a group that he never would have imagined leading when he first met them.

Lori geared in the hunting camo still startles him to see her dressed so. Prior to her nearly dying at the end of June, she hadn't stepped foot outside Homestead's boundaries since the day she arrived in July. The change that she wants to be more than support staff both terrifies and thrills him. Having his once prissy wife trekking the woods on a hunt is more than he ever expected.

Carl, Sophia, Abby, and Anaya all have hunted with him at various times, although this is the first time he's taken the two younger girls outside the most exterior fences. Logan stayed behind, begging off going after the arrival/return of the Virginia contingent. The boy isn't as clingy toward Paul as he once was, but Jazz's returns tend to combine into a bit of a boomerang for the boy's emotions.

Lori arches a brow, hand signalling for _deer_.

He shakes his head and grins. _Turkey_.

Everyone grins then. He suggested to the council that they start collecting the wild birds early to have a hope of serving nearly four hundred people so much as a bite of the old world Thanksgiving treat. Hershel's got a prolific breeding program going for the domestic turkeys, but there won't be quite enough this first year they're doing it.

He signals Lori forward. She's surprisingly good at moving quietly in the fallen leaves. He thinks it must be from her dance training as a girl that she caught on to moving through the woods so easily.

Lori's dark eyes widen as she sees the flock picking through bugs or whatever birdie treats they're enraptured by. The birds can't see them, with a tangle of invasive privet forming a hunting blind of sorts.

_Me_?

Dary nods. He understands the query, because Lori hasn't killed a bird before. Doubtless she is remembering his cautions about it being different from the other hunts he's taken her on.

The kids all stay paused where they are. Carl's grinning like a fool, because he finds hunting with his mama amusing still. Sophia is doing her best to tell her friend he's an idiot without words.

Daryl wonders how long until those two realize they're flirting with each other.

His attention returns to Lori, who has an arrow knocked to her bow, movements glacier slow. Her final choice of the recurve over the easier to pull compound bow amuses him, although he would never tell her that. It requires more training and more muscle mass to get deadly accurate, but it's part of the larger physical overhaul she embarked on once Scout trained her.

He may still be a little irked that she called crossbows too slow for comfort, though.

The custom leather bracer Carl made her catches his eye briefly as Lori takes a deep, easy breath. Knowing she's about to fire, he raises his crossbow as slow as possible and picks a target. When he glimpses the flex of her fingers about to release, he fires as well.

Two birds hit the ground as the rest scatter, wings beating as they take to the air the way the domestic turkeys can't.

The celebration the kids make for Lori's first bird isn't loud, because all four are creatures of the new world in ways most adults will never adapt. Hugs and high fives abound.

Carl lifts both birds and flashes Daryl an impish grin. "Mom's is heavier. And she shot it in the butt."

Daryl's response is to tug the teen's toboggan down over his eyes. Carl gives a grumpy yelp, but doesn't drop the turkeys. Sophia settles his cap back into place, smiling at him. The younger girls just giggle, still young enough for the word 'butt' to set them off.

When Lori hides a smile at the teens' interaction, he knows he isn't the only one to spot the flirting.

"Daddy? What kind of nut is this?"

Abby distracts him with a green and brown nut pod. He takes it and looks around, spotting the distinctive bark of a pair of butternut trees and points them out. "Butternut. Good find because these aren't all that common this far south."

"Can we eat them?" Anaya asks. The girls fully understand that a food-sounding name doesn't mean something foraged is actually edible.

"Yeah. Tastes like a walnut, but sweeter and less bitter. They keep for years if the husk isn't damaged."

Once their food value is confirmed, the girls head for the trees, readily converting their game bags to carry the nuts instead. Daryl takes the turkeys from Carl so that he and Sophia can help.

He pulls his bolt and her arrow and hands them to Lori to clean. Once he's got both birds slung in the turkey haulers, he pulls out an electronic fish scale and grins at his wife.

"Wanna see if he's right?"

"Is this a contest?"

"Could be." Daryl grins.

"And the prize?" She's smiling, taking time to lazily look him up and down. He feels that electric little thrill that comes with her continued, focused interest in him.

"I'm sure we can figure something out."

It earns him a kiss, sweet because they aren't alone, but with a hint of the promise of _later_.

Daryl hooks the first jake on the scale, lifting it and watching the numbers settle. "Sixteen pounds, three ounces."

"Is that big?"

"Adult tom would run eighteen to twenty-six pounds, most likely, so he's a good sized jake." When her brow furrows, he clarifies. "Juvenile male. Old enough to leave his mama, probably not old enough to mate in the spring next year though. The jakes move around in flocks this time of year, just like the toms have their flocks and then hens their own."

He swaps out the turkeys, lifting his next. "Guess you're the winner. Fifteen even."

From her grin, he suspects he'll enjoy 'losing' as much as winning.

~*~ Scout ~*~

With Anaya out hunting and Shane on a trip to deliver supplies from Tybee to Terminus, Scout is spending a very rare morning with just Judith for company. The nine-month-old is happily running her fingers through the soft grass of the backyard. Occasionally, she tries to eat a snatched blade of grass or an unlucky bug.

"Half-pint, you're gonna give your mama a stroke if I tell her you ate a spider." She reaches the small arachnid before it can be licked off the back of the baby's hand. It scampers along Scout's own hand, wisely trying to flee, but she rotates her hand to keep it in Judith's sight, but out of reach.

The baby crows with glee, falling over she laughs so hard. Scout joins her in laughing as she sends the poor spider back into the safety of the grass. When she flops to the grass beside Judith, she ends up with all twenty pounds of still giggly baby in her chest.

Judith bonks her head against Scout's chin, wiggling even as she's cupped close in Scout's arms. The baby makes the sign for being hungry, tapping her fingers against Scout's mouth instead of her own. All four of Judith's current baby signs are a little backwards like that, but it doesn't matter. They get her point across.

"C'mon, Judy, m'girl. Let's go find some lunch."

It's the right thing to day because Judith babbles excitedly as Scout rises, patting at her collarbone. The baby's fingers quest along the ridges of scar tissue, curiously exploring it like she always does.

Scout considers eating lunch at the cabin, but remembers the Virginia visitors and gathers up the diaper bag instead. With Judith settled on her hip, they trek up to the community center. They don't make it to the buffet tables before Judith is stolen away in a fit of giggles. Honey twirls her around for a spin or two.

"Easier to get food with two hands free," she offers, taking the diaper bag too.

By the time Scout reaches the table with a plate and her own drink, Honey has Judith's milk thawing in a mug of hot water from the electric tea kettle. Since Eugene is conversing solemnly with Judith, she assumes Honey sent him to fetch the water.

"Are you explaining the thermodynamics of water to Judy?" Scout asks. Judith spots the stuffed and roasted okra on the plate and snatches one, biting into it with her few tiny teeth even as Honey shifts her into Scout's lap.

"I'm glad that wasn't a jalapeno," Honey remarks. "And yes, Eugene was telling her how the hot water warms her milk."

Since Judith leans forward to crane her neck and stare at Eugene while she eats, the man smiles a little awkwardly and resumes his lesson. Judith won't understand a thing, but no one cares. It's just adorably sweet that the man makes such an effort to interact with the youngest members of the family.

He's more comfortable with Christian's full-blown toddlerhood than any of the babies, which conversely makes Judith fascinated with keeping his attention.

Shane teases it's the need to be the center of attention inherited from him. He might be right.

But when Judy tires of the vegetables from Scout's plate and eyes Eugene's careful assembly of tucking the warm bag of milk into the drop-in style bottle Judith prefers, Scout gives Honey a mischievous grin and passes the baby to her sister.

Honey catches on, helping Judith in her quest to land in Eugene's lap. He freezes at first, but soon surrenders like everyone does when Judith wants a cuddle.

The new lesson, about the experiments with ethanol he has to run this afternoon, is delivered to a baby curled against his chest and watching him with gleaming brown eyes.

~*~ Carol ~*~

Carol feels the bite of the contraction enough that she makes a sound close enough to a squeak to be embarrassing. Breathing through it, she checks her watch, noting the time.

"You about ready to let Dad know?"

Jazz's voice startles her. She looks up to see he's watching her calmly from his comfortable spot on the beanbag chair in her office. He's got a textbook across his bent knees.

When he's home, the teenager spends a lot of his time near her. It's an unspoken affection between them, underlaid by the knowledge that by spring, he won't be living at Homestead anymore. She knows Ezekiel truly will look after him like Jazz is his own child, but she appreciates her son's quiet concession to how much she will miss him.

"How long have you been monitoring me?" she asks, smiling so he knows it doesn't bother her.

"Since breakfast, when you barely ate anything. I don't think Dad noticed because you got him all wrapped up in setting up the Halloween plans for you."

Jazz closes his textbook, running his hand through his dark curls, which are much more neatly trimmed this morning than when he arrived late yesterday. Lori's smile when he asked her to cut his hair after supper was a sweet one. But the shorter hair accentuates the other changes of the past four months.

The beard actually shifts his features away from reminding her so much of Merle, emphasizing his jawline more due to the dark color. It makes him look older than Paul, which she suspects is the primary motivation. But the other thing that makes him look so much older is his eyes.

They're still kind, holding a sweetness few men manage that she hopes he'll never lose, but the innocence lost in the battle to save Homestead is gone for good.

As Scout reassured her, Jasper knows his limits now. While Carol is grateful her son worked through the trauma of taking lives on the scale he did to protect his home and family, her mother's heart mourns the loss of the boy even as she admires the man he's become far too young.

"I was afraid he might drive me a little crazy hovering." Carol adores Merle, and his attentiveness through the pregnancy is a balm to the fear it might change their relationship, but the closer she gets to her November due date, the more it's just a little too much sometimes.

Labor can take hours, or days in the case of the really unlucky, and she decided to let Merle worry when there was something more substantial than weak contractions to worry over.

"I figured as much. But that's why I told Logan and Paul to go help with the new fencing without me."

"Sneaky child."

Jazz just smiles and shrugs. His company was unobtrusive all day, so she feels grateful for his quiet acknowledgement that she needed some breathing space.

"You want to walk me over to the infirmary and then go fetch him?" She shuts down her computer, knowing Lori or Patricia will finish up whatever needs to be done.

He gets to his feet and packs his book away. Slinging his backpack over one shoulder, he offers her his arm. "Do you really think we'll make it through the infirmary doors without a dozen people alerting him?"

Carol laughs as she leans into his offered warmth and support. She has noticed the attention from others. Something about this particular baby intrigues their people in a way the others haven't, adding to her need for quiet and privacy.

He's correct at no announcement or summons being needed. They don't even have two inches of water in the birthing pool before she hears Merle's distinctive footsteps. Jazz does hide his grin by turning his attention to the pool, while Cricket runs through the initial medical assessment.

Merle's excitement is damn near a physical presence in the room. "It's real this time?"

That's her other reason for the delay. Braxton Hicks contractions have _not_ been her friend this pregnancy.

She nods as he slips around the bed to nuzzle at her jaw before kissing her softly. "Contractions are four minutes apart, and my water broke while we were on the way over."

That wasn't fun, leaning against Jazz's tall frame and breathing through a particularly intense contraction on the infirmary steps while feeling her leggings go warm and wet.

Cricket tosses her gloves and starts unhooking the fetal monitor. "Six centimeters."

Merle takes a deep breath, pressing a kiss to her temple as he helps her sit up and slip into the robe to keep her from flashing her bare backside at all and sundry. "You want to try the pool?"

She shakes her head. "No, I feel like walking a while."

Most of today, she's not wanted to move around a lot, which she remembered feeling early in labor with Sophia. Instead, she needed to keep her mind busy, and work did well for that. Plus, she's not yet to the lack of embarrassment stage where being mostly nude around her family is acceptable.

As they head for the hallway, Carol halts progress next to the pool. "You're sure about the midwifery, Jazz?"

He looks up from where he's idly watching the pool fill and nods. The plan was Christopher acting as nurse and Cricket delivering, but Jazz passed his nursing exams under Harlan's supervision in Virginia three days ago.

"I would like to do the baby's exam."

She smiles. "I can't think of anyone better."

Merle slides an arm around her waist as they walk, starting the rest of their journey toward their newest stage of parenthood.

~*~ Merle ~*~

Not knowing what to expect is part of the reason Merle knows he's probably been driving Carol a little crazy lately. He knows, intellectually, that every labor is different, even for the same woman.

His mother labored so quietly she barely allowed herself to whimper on the bad contractions, delivering a tiny baby who terrified them both by not breathing at first. A locked, flimsy door - the only barrier between them and Will Dixon's rage. Daryl was the tiniest being Merle had ever seen, wrapped in his thin bath towel turned receiving blanket.

Scout came early at thirty-six weeks because Lil's labor was so mild she didn't recognize it as such. It's another link between Daryl and Scout, because his eldest daughter made her appearance at home, too. It wasn't a quiet one like Daryl's, but then again, she's always charged into the world at full blast. Tiny and perfect, five pounds even and saddled with the lifelong joke that the nurse put a thumb on the scale to get her there.

Lil was better oriented when Cricket came, her one and only overdue child. It was also the longest labor, taking nearly thirty hours. The sterile hospital setting made Lil on edge, anxious until the doctor convinced her to pain medication she didn't really want and a confinement to a bed and equipment. Cricket, hale and healthy, tipped the scales at an ounce shy of seven pounds.

Honey should have been the last, as much as he loves Jazz. Premature enough to be whisked away to the NICU, Merle followed his daughter while doctors scrambled around words like hemorrhage and possible hysterectomy and shunted Lil to surgery. Merle hovered and marveled over the translucent skin of his four pound daughter and prayed as deeply as his devoutly Catholic mother-in-law taught him.

And Jazz? He knows only what the boy's letter from his mother said. A healthy baby born a week before his due date, six and a half pounds. She spent two days with her youngest child, recovering from the birth and tubal ligation, before driving him from Tallahassee to north Georgia in what she felt was an effort to save her son, not abandon him.

All five of those babies are here for this birth in different ways, as Merle's body cradles Carol's in the warm water of the pool.

Daryl is behind the glass of the observation room with other family who want to be close but not overcrowd the room. Merle knows if he turns, Jamie's with Daryl and Abby and Logan and probably a half dozen others.

Scout's on his left, gone silent after actually serving as Carol's support in the pool for an hour. She doesn't seem to mind kneeling outside the pool in a damp swimsuit. He can feel the warmth of her strong, callused fingers against his shoulder blade.

Jazz isn't quite as close, not with being scrubbed in to take the baby once Carol's ready, but he's kneeling to one side, watching with an intent expression that tells Merle his touch shy son's limited list of those he'll hold close just expanded again.

Cricket's just humming, cycling through her continued duties as obstetrician. Her absolute contentment soothes everyone. Honey's on Scout's other side, expression as serene as Merle's ever seen her.

His princess is wedged between Merle and Jazz, one tanned hand covering the entirety of her newborn sister's tiny back as she nurses. Merle doesn't mind that he hasn't touched the baby yet. Sophia's face is bright with wonder and tears. He can wait, until she and Carol are ready to let go, just a bit.

Carol's stopped crying as he rubs his hands along her arms, needing the contact with his wife he doesn't have with his daughter yet.

"I love you." His voice is gruff, gone so gravelly it's a miracle Carol understands it.

She does, because she turns her head, angling for a kiss that he's always willing to give. He doesn't need the words. The evidence is right before his eyes, cradled against her mother's pale chest.

Ava. Born in the warmth of water and caught by one sister before a second lifted her to her mother's chest and the gentle touch of a third sister. It's a primal welcome far closer to remote ancestors than the world her parents grew up in.

Smoke blue eyes open and blink.

This moment never changes, that infinite one where his heart fully, irrevocably engages with being _father_ to the unique child gazing at him. Infant blue eyes, hazy with the otherworld their souls just left. Chocolate brown, with flashes of desert gunfire ghosted in their depths almost hiding the desperate need for parental care. Sky blue framed by a too-thin face begging for safety. Vivid green, finally learning to trust in a world gone mad.

He strokes a thumb carefully along her delicate cheek. "Hi, Ava. I'm your daddy."

This Ava will live the life the first one didn't, he swears to it.


	118. Life Goes On

**November 5, 2011**

~*~ Ezekiel ~*~

Ezekiel, in all the time before and after the world ended, has never been more in love than he is right now. In his arms lies just over six pounds of the most beautiful human being he's ever met. It's been half an hour since the newborn was laid in his arms, and the feeling has only grown stronger.

"You look happy enough to just float away."

He can't help the laugh, even though it disturbs the baby. Looking up once his son - his _son_ \- settles back down, he sees Carol standing in front of him with a tray of food. She's smiling, the expression transforming her features from pretty to beautiful.

"All finger foods so you don't have to let go of him." She pushes an overbed tray over and lowers it to the level of the visitor chair Ezekiel occupies in the main hospital ward. A juice box, straw already in place, joins his meal.

Ezekiel ignores the food a little longer. "Did you know that I didn't believe he would end up looking like me? Not that it mattered either way." Harlan's already living at the Kingdom, turning his seat on Hilltop's council over to his brother.

Carol perches on the empty hospital bed, watching him and the baby with that fond expression he thinks is two parts new mother and one part midwife. She didn't oversee the delivery, her own five-day-old making the job a little tricky. Instead, she babysat two nervous fathers-to-be, all the way up until Andrea's labor led to the first C-section needed at Homestead. Her daughter is in the care of older sisters, brought back and forth for feedings.

Harlan's not left the operating room, a fact that worries Ezekiel. The newborn was delivered to him by a smiling Jasper Dixon, who hurried back to the OR. He knows Carol checked in on her way back from getting food. "How is Andrea doing?"

"They detected a problem with the placenta and needed to perform a hysterectomy."

A sense of alarm rises within him. "Will she be okay?"

"They seem pretty confident of it Her recovery will be a bit longer than the C-section, perhaps, but she's strong and healthy."

"But she will have no more children." Guilt settles in, because he can no longer imagine a life that does not include his son.

"That was already the plan, Ezekiel."

He looks up to see that Carol's smiling fondly at him. "How so?"

"She wanted to have it taken care of anyway. This is just a bit more dramatic than we planned." She reaches out to adjust the little knit cap that covers the baby's wavy black hair. "Not everyone is wired to be a parent."

"She will always be welcome at the Kingdom." He hasn't even used to radio to alert his people yet. With Andrea past her due date, he only checks in once a day, in the evenings. But he knows everyone will always welcome his son's mother.

"I'm sure she will visit now and then." Andrea is fine being an aunt to Isaac. Carol can picture her being the same ro Ezekiel's son. "What will you name him?"

"Gideon. It seems fitting for our world."

"A leader of the few against the many. With any luck, there won't be herds of walkers for him to lead his people against by the time he's old enough to do that."

"It is my most sincere hope that there will not be, either, but it will remind him of how we held the line when there were." Ezekiel smiles a little wistfully. "I know our way of leadership is much different than everyone else's, but if it continues, he will need the reminder more than most."

"I somehow doubt the day will come when Homestead doesn't have at least one Dixon in leadership, so I suppose I do understand, in a way." Carol nudges the tray of food toward him. "Eat while you can. He'll be hungry again before you know it."

Ezekiel reaches for one of the dumplings and chews thoughtfully. "I am grateful to the mothers here for their preparation for his birth."

Being handed a tiny bottle of warm milk along with his son was expected. Being explained that it was not a formula mixture based on the wealth of sheep and goat milk Homestead had available was a surprise. Ezekiel is being sent home with enough frozen, donated breast milk to last until Gideon is at least four months old.

By that time, there will be two babies born at the Kingdom, and one of the mothers already swearing there will be no need for concocting goat milk for Gideon.

"Did I tell you that there is progress on filling my kingdom with little Jerrys?"

The idea delights Carol, and he's glad that he waited to tell her in person. It is a good distraction, this gossip, while they wait to know that Andrea will be alright.

~*~ Gabriel ~*~

"I am starting to think I need to beg Carol to reassign you permanently to gardening detail."

The voice behind him startles Gabriel into dropping the tomato he just harvested. He retrieves it and checks it for damage, wondering how he missed footsteps on the stairs. It's easy to be relaxed among the plants in the sunshine, he supposes.

"Sorry, Gabriel. I didn't mean to startle you." Jessie looks genuinely apologetic, and he waves away the apology.

"It survived its little bounce. Since it's intended for my supper tonight, it won't matter if it bruises." The garden on his upper level porch has thrived, making it a relaxing oasis for him while off duty.

"I brought you the seed packets I promised, along with some figs." She offers the parchment paper packets settled on top of a basket of fruit with a smile. "The winter garden items don't really come from seedlings.

"Thank you." He takes the basket, sitting it on the small patio table and placing the tomato on top. "I will miss having easy access to fresh tomatoes with winter coming."

No one at Homestead lacks for good food, but they aren't spoiled for choice with out of season vegetables and fruits, either. Fresh tomatoes won't disappear entirely, thanks to the greenhouses, but they won't be available to casually harvest for a personal omelette for some months.

He suspects winter in general will lead to him taking meals more regularly in the community center.

"Is it true that you're going to move out to Tybee come spring, with the Woodbury people?"

"It is my intention, yes. They are more in need of my calling than Homestead." Folks are kind here and vastly respectful that a priest is learning to defend their home. But he's not needed. They have Hershel Greene, and the veterinarian is one of the most steady spiritual men Gabriel's ever met.

The Woodbury survivors are still recovering from the knowledge they lived with a madman as their leader. They've welcomed him in their midst as a bridge between them and Homestead. Even months after they're effectively free to roam the property, most stick close together to avoid reminders of what the battle took from everyone.

They are learning the survival skills they need, but the true test will be moving away from the shelter provided by Homestead. He finds himself looking forward to seeing them succeed.

Jessie looks disappointed, which surprises him. She's his neighbor, still ensconced in the apartment below him despite some families spreading out into the once abandoned homes in the Expansion. They speak almost every day, and her sons are well-behaved young men. Sam is full of questions about everything, and once he realized Gabriel will answer them, visits as often as his mother. Ron's less social, but always willing to assist with any project Gabriel is involved with.

"We'll miss having you near," she says at last. Her hands worry at the hem of her shirt before she shoves them in the pockets of her jeans. "Would you like to have dinner with me?"

It takes him a minute to comprehend the 'me' versus 'us' of the invitation. She looks apprehensive, biting at her bottom lip while she waits on his answer. His faith doesn't require chastity of its priests, but he never dated much after seminary, and not at all at his last parish. The community he served was too small.

"I would like that," he replies with a reassuring smile. The courage it must take for her to venture such a request, after life with Pete Anderson, is something admirable. Maybe it won't lead anywhere, but he's promised himself to be more than he was before.

Jessie gives him a brilliant smile that makes his breath catch. "The boys are going to the movie night at the community center. I'll see you at seven?"

"I'll be there."

She heads down the stairs, and he hears her door below open and close. With her safely out of sight, he reaches for the patio chair and eases himself into it.

Nerves rise within him, feeling like butterflies swarming instead of fluttering in his stomach. He thinks of the pretty blonde and how much their quiet, steady friendship contributes to his own healing and smiles as his nerves quiet when he remembers countless conversations in his balcony garden or the greenhouses that have slowly become as much her domain as the hair salon.

Gabriel hopes the date goes well, because he realizes now that part of his reluctance to commit to the move to Tybee involved leaving Jessie and her sons behind.

Perhaps God has forgiven his cowardice at last, to send this gift his way.

~*~ Merle ~*~

It takes Merle a bit of searching to locate his wayward architect daughter-in-law. She's not in any of the usual places she might be on a Saturday morning. Jamie, their son curled on his chest, shrugged when he stopped by their cabin.

"Confusing day for her, Pops."

He can understand that. To have a nephew born and knowing he won't be staying for her to spoil and watch grow up alongside her own son has got to be hard. But he doesn't think she'll forgive herself if she stays away and later finds out her sister needed surgery

Dale hadn't seen her either, but the elder man hurried off to the infirmary, trusting Merle to find Amy.

So Merle keeps looking, following a trail of clues until he sees her at last, blonde ponytail glinting in the sun. She casts her fishing line as he watches, floating in a canoe in the small lake in the Expansion. Her radio is sitting on the bank near where they beach the canoe normally, which explains why she never answered. He debates waiting on shore for her, but pushes the idea aside and takes one of the small kayaks out.

When he's alongside her, she finally looks his way. Her fair complexion makes it obvious that at some point, she's been crying. "Has he been born?"

Merle nods, keeping his kayak steady. The lake isn't really big enough for wave activity, but he doesn't want to bump into her canoe, either. "Six pounds, two ounces, delivered by C-section about an hour ago. Healthy and strong baby boy."

"C-section?" Alarm shifts Amy's features from carefully neutral to worried.

"They didn't discover it until the labor, but your sister had some sort of problem with the placenta that required surgical delivery. She's in good hands, but I thought you might want to be there when she wakes up after surgery."

He knows he's right when Amy immediately reels in her fishing line and reaches for the paddle. Following her to shore, he hands her the keys to the Polaris.

"I'll put away the fishing gear. Go see your sister."

Amy scoops up her radio and surprises him with a fierce hug. "Thank you for coming to find me."

He returns the hug. "That's what family does, sweetheart."

She dashes away, and he watches until the Polaris disappears from sight before turning to the gear. It takes less than half an hour to tuck both canoe and kayak in their storage cradles in the pole barn built at the lake for them. The fishing gear he thinks is Amy's own, so he gathers it up and sets off for the walk back to Homestead proper.

The two sisters have been estranged since Andrea told Amy that Ezekiel's boy isn't the first child she's given up for adoption. Perhaps this will provide the impetus to reconcile Amy to her sister.

If not, Amy's going to regret it, because Andrea's put in a request to join the Tybee outpost after her maternity leave. Letting it fester may cause a divide they can no longer conquer.

~*~ Beth ~*~

Beth laces her fingers with Alex's and tows the man along down the well worn little road that leads to the original sheep farm. There's no one down here, not at midday, so it works out well for her plans.

"What are we going to see, Beth?" He's used to being dragged along to observe or help with something veterinary by now. It makes for a good cover for today.

"You'll see."

Once they reach the paddocks, she leads him beyond the realm of friendly sheep to the sweeping branches of a willow tree that stands sentinel between paddocks and thicket wall. She can hear the splash and gurgle of the river beyond the thick plant growth. Sweeping back the overhanging branches, she reveals her surprise.

"Beth." Alex sounds reluctant, not sad, so she continues her gamble that it's not the memory of his late wife holding him back when she flirts now.

"It's just a picnic," she tells him. He doesn't fight being drawn under the shelter of the willow. The dappled sunlight softens his features, making him look younger.

Alex settles onto the blanket and peers into the basket curiously. She's glad to see he uses both hands, no longer shy about hiding the mechanical one from her.

The prosthetic is unmistakable as a prosthetic, because the team of tinkers raided Georgia Tech's prosthetic lab and worked out a myoelectric arm to replace what Jazz had to amputate. Although some of the mechanics and plastic is covered by a navy blue sleevelike cover, the fingers need freedom to flex properly. It's one of the most amazing things Beth's ever seen, watching as muscle movement in the remainder of his arm directs the prosthetic.

"Oranges?" he asks, smiling slightly and he lifts out the clear plastic container full of orange slices. Beth figures he remembers the conversation about his love of citrus and whether or not they would have more after canned and bottled stocks ran out.

"They paid me in citrus for looking over the animals at Jekyll." The small island is thriving, collecting in stray livestock to the point they needed a veterinary visit. It was Beth's first solo outing. She's not as advanced in her training as Jazz, but she's getting there fast.

She helps him set out the small containers: little pocket pies stuffed with spicy pork sausage, mini eggplant quiches that Jazz taught her to make with filo, jam jar salads, and caramel apple tarts.

Alex is quiet as they settle in with the food, holding out the container of pocket pies gripped carefully in metal fingers. She smiles as she accepts one, stretching out her skirt clad legs on the soft blanket and keeping herself balanced with her free hand. He sits cross-legged, watching her eat and taking his share.

It isn't until they reach the sweet slices of orange that he finally speaks. "Beth? Are you sure this is what you want? Being with me will be complicated."

"Only if you want it to be." She takes the empty orange container and sets it back in the basket. Gently, she grips his arm where flesh meets prosthetic and feels his bicep flex involuntarily at the touch. "I've shown you this doesn't bother me."

Outside of those who helped fit the prosthetic, she knows she's the only one who's seen his arm, kept carefully hidden under modified sleeves since he left the infirmary.

"What will your father think of you taking up with someone who lost his wife not even a year ago? You just turned eighteen."

Beth smiles, moving her hand up to his shoulder instead. "I think that he married my mama nine months after Maggie's died, so he would understand better than most. And Alex? You're only twenty-four, not forty."

Not that Beth would care if he were forty, but there would be a lot more questioning looks at that sort of gap for Beth versus the lack of attention the twenty-six year gap between her father and Lenore gets.

This moment, this conversation, has been coming for months now. Beth waited for her birthday, thinking it was the largest part of Alex's hesitation. But when they remained firmly in the no man's land between friendship and romance for the past month, she decided to give things a little push. The fact that he still hasn't returned to his family at Terminus gives her enough hope to try.

He doesn't move away as she shifts her weight to kneel in front of his crossed legs. She rests her other hand on his shoulder, too, balancing herself. "I'm going to kiss you, unless you tell me no."

Alex studies her with dark eyes before replying softly. "I would like that."

He tastes of spice and oranges and the sharp vinegar of Italian dressing. His neat beard tickles a little. She's never kissed a man with facial hair before, so as his hands find their way to the small of her back, she explores the line of his jaw, pausing only for small intakes of breath.

Beth loses track of time as they kiss and explore, and it isn't until her fingers seek his belt that Alex pulls away. He slides his hand from where it's cupping the soft flesh of her bare thigh under the floral skirt and gently catches her fingers. He looks a little surprised that it's the prosthetic hand, since his weight is balanced on the remaining intact elbow as he lays half beside and half over her.

"Not just yet, Beth," he says after a minute of staring at the metal covering her fingers. She releases the buckle with a small sigh of disappointment. She can be patient a while longer.

Alex stretches out completely beside her. "This really doesn't bother you on bare skin?"

She just smiles and guides his prosthetic hand back to her still uncovered upper leg. He watches her reactions intently as he draws that hand across pale thighs. Her only response is to tug her loose dress even higher. He lays his hand against her flat belly as he kisses her. When she's about to the limit of being able to wait like he asks, he moves away, lying on his back beside her, but reaching for her hand with warm, soft fingers.

"Give me a little time to adjust."

Beth just smiles brightly, her body still humming with attraction turned arousal. Now that she knows what it is going to be like, she thinks she could wait years.


	119. Live By Them, Part 1

**November 24, 2011**

~*~ Merle ~*~

Merle swears Ava must have her mother's timing, because the baby wakes five minutes before the alarm he set to wake him so he can coordinate today's massive community meal. That's the deal he made with Carol. She is to enjoy the time with their three week old daughter, while he plays director to the celebration.

But first, he sneaks Ava out of the bedside sleeper and cuddles her, relishing the fact that she calms almost immediately when she's cradled to his shoulder. He may be closer to fifty than he likes to be as a new father, but these moments never change. Changing her tiny bottom, he smooths the barely there fluff of red hair and brings her back to Carol just in time to silence the alarm before it sounds.

"It's five already?" Carol murmurs, awake enough to nurse the baby, but for once, not instantly alert.

He leans in and kisses her gently. "Yeah. We're gonna get the tent heat started up so everything's toasty by lunch."

"If they need me…" He kisses her again just to hush her need to push herself aside to help.

"They know where to find you. Besides, I seem to remember you and Jazz making a deal about him being the cook today."

She laughs softly and pats his cheek. "Point taken."

Merle slips away to dress warmly. The weather's been as spastic as possible this week, like early winter in Georgia is prone to be. Today could be another seventy-five degree day, or it could be fifty. Either way, the thermometer on the deck door shows it's a _balmy_ thirty-six degrees right now, so he layers quickly with his thermals under his outer clothing.

Instead of going out onto the deck like he often does, he decides to at least do a passing check on the rest of the household and go out the front. His jacket's near the front door, anyway.

He gets cheerful greetings from Jazz, Beth, and Patricia, but their recruited helpers seem to be sleeping on the job. He wishes the nappers luck with that trick once the trio of cooks get underway with the dishes that will go down to serve lunch today for the community potluck and the ones that need to start hours early for the family dinner tonight.

It's the new moon tomorrow, so there's no extra natural light except the stars above. Sunrise isn't for nearly two hours. His way to the temporary structure serving as today's banquet all is lit by a series of softly glowing path lights. Too many of their people have to travel from house to infirmary in the dark to rely solely on flashlights anymore.

What is usually their sports field, one reclaimed from its accidental battleground status with fierce determination by the youth of Homestead, is today home to one of the largest structural tents Merle's helped erect: 2,400 square feet of heavy-duty tent. It's funny, how last year, the room to seat two hundred people in Homestead's community center seemed like he was being overly optimistic.

Today they'll serve over three hundred people and less than fifty of those are visitors. The folks from Woodbury won't be here by next year, but he already knows that Homestead will need to carefully store this structured tent. The more they explore, the more they are likely to find small pockets of survivors, and Homestead will always remain a haven for refugees.

Merle ducks inside and sees that Scout and Jamie are already inside. The portable heaters are on, doing their level best to expel the near freezing chill from the interior.

"We've got the tables in place, Pops, if you want to run final checks on the electric before we start plugging the steam tables in. Gage ran his tests already on the external electrical capacity before he went to help his aunt and grandfather with the barbeque."

Jamie is working as he speaks, moving from the big restaurant grade steam tables that will hold the food contributed by the community center cooks to help Scout maneuver the regular folding tables that will serve to hold the smaller potluck dishes. Merle sees a stack of cheerfully painted signs on poster board that feature Sophia's cartoon flourishes, meant to designate tables for desserts, breads, entrees, and so forth.

"How's Amy and Isaac this morning?" Merle asks, moving to get the electric setup.

"Sleeping like rocks when I left. Andrea is camped out on the couch if Amy needs anything, since she knew I was going to help with setup."

Merle doesn't even have to ask Scout. She just grins. "Anaya stayed over at Daryl and Lori's last night, and you know Shane's up to his eyeballs in whatever he's bringing today to both meals. There was some muttering about him needing a bigger kitchen."

It's an amusing thought, expanding the cabin again for the purpose of the kitchen itself. Merle can still remember when the kitchen in Scout's little cabin consisted of a sink and refrigerator , along with a toaster oven Scout lost on purpose each visit home.

A few more helpers trickle in, and Merle directs them to finish unfolding chairs. He halted the crew last night after the tables were set up. Others bustle in with tablecloths and centerpieces, taking the tented space from austere to charming with color-coordinated effort.

By sunrise, the tent looks ready for even a posh wedding, if someone were crazy enough to go with a Thanksgiving theme. The delicious scent of barbeques at work drifts Merle's way when he steps through the door drapery into the still cold morning air. Lenore and her father are hard at work, but this year, they aren't just in charge of two large pigs in the barbeques. A pair of commercial grade smokers is being loaded with the collection of wild turkeys that the hunting teams have been gleaning from the Georgia woods for months.

No one will need to cook tonight unless they're doing it for the joy of it, like his family.

Merle goes to help, not wanting Carol to fret if he reappears at the house. They may be less than two years into the world turned completely upside down, but nowhere else is it more evident to him of his community's success than the idea of leftovers after three hundred people dine.

Homestead - and his family within it - is flourishing, and that's all a man like him needs to be content.

~*~ Jacqui ~*~

Jacqui blinks at the dim light creeping into her bedroom, enjoying the slow wakeup without the benefit of a beeping alarm. She's indulged in sleeping in just a bit, since all of Homestead is responsible for their own breakfasts. Even with the kids, she and Jim normally eat at the community center. The girls love to people watch, and she encourages what Denise says is a healthy pastime considering the traumas they witnessed and endured at Terminus and during the Governor's attack.

They need the reminders that most people are good people more than most children.

But today, she doesn't need to be readying her supply run team to search for more goods and stray survivors in the careful plan Scout has to cover the entirety of their home state. Jim doesn't need to open the garage, because no one will be going out tomorrow needing well-tuned vehicles. The girls don't have a teacher waiting for their attendance at the newly expanded school that educates enough children now to need a second room and age divisions.

She ventures to the bathroom, happy with the cabin they've built and moved into. Afterward, a peek into the girls' room shows they're still sound asleep in their bunks. She tucks the fallen comforter back around Jocelyn on the top bunk and puts Brandy's little rainbow colored bear back near the head of the bed instead of the foot. Some days, she thinks the little bear is related to the Toy Story characters, with the odd places it ends up.

"Jacqui?" Jim calls softly. "Too damned early to be up when you don't got to be."

That lures her back to the bedroom. He's propped on an elbow, upright enough that there's no mistaking the admiring look she gets. With a devilish smile, she closes the door behind her.

"Looking at me like that when I'm wearing a cotton nightgown and house slippers? Definitely a sign of a man in love," she says.

Jim's response is to roll back the covers, inviting her to act on the promise of the closed door. Neither of them are youngsters, with Jacqui's forty-ninth birthday only days away, and Jim forty-four last July, but the scar that interrupts the trail of hair from his chest to waistband is all she ever needs as a reminder that age doesn't matter one bit.

She discards the slippers and gown, striding toward the bed and feeling like she's wearing the slinkiest lingerie on the planet when she sees Jim's breathing change and shift like it always does when she's nude in front of him.

Every damn day she gets with her husband is a gift.

~*~ Hershel ~*~

Hershel's been living in the reopened Eldridge house for three months now, and it's still a bit disorienting to wake up here in a way his room back at the Dixon house wasn't. He supposes it is because there, it wasn't his home, and he knew eventually, he would likely relocate.

Lenore wanting to move back down on the farm after the worst of the shock of the Governor's attack wore off didn't surprise him. It is her home, a sprawling structure both similar and dissimilar to his own ancestral farmhouse. He knows he will never return to the land and home his father and grandfather owned, because Georgia will never settle that much in the time he has remaining. He's in excellent health for his age and the hard living of his youth, but he'll be sixty-two soon.

Bethie's promised that one day, maybe, she'll raise a family there. Refound a community around the family land, because the walkers can't last forever in the quantities that are here now. Even the supervirus probably can't power them past a decade, from all the research the communities are sharing now.

Perhaps his grandchildren will one day work the same land he once did, and that's enough for him.

"Hershel? Are you awake?"

The hopeful voice of Lenore's youngest daughter makes him smile as he slides his suspenders into place on his shoulders over a crisp gray and white pinstripe dress shirt.

"Yes, Lindsay. I'm awake. Do you need me?"

The eight-year-old pushes the door all the way open, her bashful stance reminding him of Beth at that same age, despite the lack of similarity in Lindsay's carrot-red hair and his youngest daughter's shimmering gold.

Beth didn't move down here with him, already halfway to independent in a way he encourages. He's just glad she's lingered a while longer in the Dixon house, with Patricia right nearby, still content to share a room with Sophia and Isabelle. He knows it's just a matter of time before that changes, because Alex looks at his daughter the way Hershel remembers looking at Annette after the dark months of loss when Josephine died. Beth is his light in the darkness.

Hershel's just blessed that he's found the light a third time, and just like loving Annette brought him Shawn long before Beth, now he has three more children to watch grow up.

"Anne always burns the pancakes, and Taylor wants to leave to go help Mama and Grandpa, but he's not supposed to leave until after we eat. Mama said so."

Years of practice with the girls and Shawn keep the laughter hidden at the girl's perturbed statement about her older brother and sister. "You're wanting me to come save the pancakes?"

It gets him a beaming smile. "Yes, please. And make her put blueberries in them from the freezer, not nuts. Nuts are gross in pancakes."

Offering the little girl his hand, he heads for the stairs, listening as she intones about which fruit or topping goes with which breakfast food.

Maybe this house isn't the one he grew up in or raised his first family in, but it's the one these three children will remember with all the fondness his girls have for their childhood home.

That makes it his home now.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

There are only two more days left on this trip to Homestead for Paul, and he's making the most of the time with all the Dixons. He's little help to Jazz in the kitchen, other than cutting up vegetables, so instead he volunteers for a more entertaining task.

"One, two, three, flip!" he chants from his spot in the living room floor.

Christian rolls through a somersault worthy of a gymnast. Paul has no idea how young children usually start gymnastics, since it wasn't something available to a foster kid like himself until he was in that one group home when he was twelve. They were right that it would bleed off some of his excess energy, and he has fond memories of time in the gym that donated lessons to kids from the group home.

The almost two-year-old giggles as he gets back to his feet. "More!"

"One, two, three, roll!"

This time the boy drops and rolls over half of the floor before he comes to a stop at his very amused mother's feet. "What's this lumpy rug doing here?" Cricket asks, wriggling her foot gently on the boy's back.

He kicks and wiggles out from under her foot, laughing as he flees back to Paul. "More!"

Paul thinks it over. "Do you know what a froggy is?"

"Ribbit!"

He laughs at the toddler's enthusiastic reply. "Yeah, they say ribbit. Do you know how they hop?"

At the boy's happy nod, Paul grins. "One, two, three, hop!"

This time, a chorus of ribbits instead of giggles accompany Christian as he circles the living room, frog hopping and bumping into furniture.

Cricket settles onto one end of the sectional and pulls her feet up out of the way. Two-month-old Meredith sits against her mother's stomach, looking out at her brother's antics with the best interest she can manage at her age.

"I swear, we don't even need toys for Meredith with Christian around. He's her favorite entertainment."

"Sounds like some of the stories Jazz tells about Honey when they were small."

That makes Cricket smile. "Yeah, she thought he was the best present in the entire world. Everyone kept saying she would get tired of him, especially once he could get into her things and learned to talk. But it never happened. He could ask her a million questions and she would answer every single one, even if half of them were repeats of themselves. And anything she owned was his the second he looked at it."

Now that Meredith is on his eye level, Christian pauses his hops to stand in front of his sister and delicately touch her tiny bare feet. His expression is carefully solemn. "I gentle, Mama."

He leans in closer to Meredith. "My baby, not Mama's." The stage whisper is exactly that, sending both adults into giggles, but Meredith smiles and then laughs, a sweet sound that makes Christian lean forward and kiss each little foot.

Christian looks back at Paul, beckoning with one small hand. "I share, Upaw."

Determining the toddler wants him to come hold the baby, Paul gets to his feet and joins Cricket on the couch. She passes Meredith to him. "You'll be my favorite forever if you can watch them both long enough for me to go pee."

He laughs and waves her off, engrossed in watching Christian patiently try to teach his baby sister the baby signs he still uses to supplement a rather full vocabulary for his age. Meredith watches him, fascinated, until she yawns so hard it upsets her careful balance in Paul's lap.

"My baby sleep, Upaw," Christian urges, patting his knee hard enough to hurt a little.

Before the older child can get distressed, he turns the baby girl and settles her on his shoulder. "Like this?" he asks. Christian nods and starts rocking, and Paul grins as he follows suit. Meredith yawns against, dragging soft baby lips against the skin of his collarbone. Christian climbs onto the couch, angling so that he can put his head in Paul's lap closest to the baby's feet.

"Okay, call Hilltop and tell them you resign right now, Paul, because I'm kidnapping you," Cricket declares, hands on her hips.

"Not that I'm entirely opposed to resigning, but why?" he asks.

She points, and when he angles around Meredith's small form, he can see that Christian is sound asleep. It's not unusual, because the boy's ability to sleep anywhere is legendary among the residents of Homestead, so he isn't sure why it merits his kidnapping.

"He never wants to nap now, because he might miss something Meredith's doing. I swear he has a bat's hearing, because he can hear her cough from the other end of the cabin."

Paul just laughs. "I think I just wore him out first."

"Crazy baby gymnastics before naptime, got it. Want me to take her?"

He shakes his head. "Nah, she's snoozing good. Might as well enjoy a little break."

Cricket pats him on the shoulder and eases toward the kitchen. "Call me if you need me." She grins, looking toward Jazz in the kitchen. "Uncle Paul."

Huh. That explains what Christian's been calling him this morning, and he wonders just how diligently his mothers have been working to teach him. It makes his chest ache in a very pleasant way.

Paul really hopes he doesn't need to call her, because being turned into a sleeping mat for two adorable children is just balm to his soul. This is the sort of Thanksgiving he always saw on television as a kid and never got to really experience.

He thinks he's more than a little bit in love with these kids.

* * *

_A/N: I make no promises on how long this will be on the number of parts. I will revisit all the POVs used throughout the story, for a final check-in before we lay this particular epic to rest._

_Rather than wait, I am going to alternate chapters of RBM and ISO. Each of the POVs in the RBM chapter mirrored into a chapter of ISO, with the final chapter of RBM being followed by the reveal of Negan's captive. Lots of soft and sweet, before and after, until we plunge into the darker parts of the story._

_It should be fun._

_After those initial chapters, ISO's POVs will narrow down quite a bit. Geography and lack of outright war will leave many of them happily in their lives, while those who need to rally for the Saviors will do so. You can count on Team Dixon (including all the various in-laws), so no worries there, but POVs like the prisoner trio, Gareth at Terminus, etc will fade to the background._

_I'll also upload some PDFs to my website once I start posting on ISO covering the "who's who" of ISO, since families will change and move around during the time in between, and a refresher on everyone's ages will definitely be needed with many of the teens from RBM reaching adulthood. I figure a guide would be helpful for everyone. :)_


	120. Live By Them, Part 2

**November 24, 2012**

~*~ Tara ~*~

With only two hours until the Thanksgiving midday meal, Tara reluctantly hands over Meredith to Chris where she's sitting on the floor of their cabin with Christian. They returned to the cabin after enjoying breakfast at the main house, because every inch of the kitchen there is in use. Their son is very carefully stacking Duplo blocks to build a wall around his toy cars and animals.

That will probably always be his reality - living behind walls. Even if the walkers die off as predicted, the lack of human population will give way to wildlife numbers rebounding, and some of those are as risky or worse than the walkers.

She pushes away the thought, gathering her supplies from the fridge and cabinet. Thanksgiving and Christmas both are the potluck meals where the pantries are flung wide open to choose from. Chris has something planned for the family dinner, but Tara's contributing her mother's sausage ball recipe for the community meal.

Popping the sausages free of their casings, she minces the meat to the fine ground meat mix she needs. It would have been easier to start with already ground sausage, but that was all wild pig and she's not brave enough to convert the recipe yet.

One of the things Chris insisted on when their cabin was built to replace the apartment was a great kitchen. What Tara loves is that she doesn't have to stand with her back to her family, isolated, like her mother always seemed to be for Thanksgiving. She can grate the apples and onions while watching as Christian abandons his oversized Legos for admiring his baby sister.

"Do you think he's always going to be fascinated with her?" she asks Chris. "Or is it just that she's so new?"

At three months old, Meredith is thriving, and while Christian isn't quite obsessed with her, he's attentive in a way Tara didn't think was possible for a toddler his age. He even has a dolly, a handmade gift from Carol, that he carries around as much as his mothers carry his sister. He even 'nurses' the baby, which is the cutest damned thing she's ever seen.

"It's hard to predict. If he has a solid case of the terrible twos, it's possible he might want nothing to do with her or even become jealous. None of us were this close in age."

Tara thinks it over as she adds in minced garlic and the breadcrumbs the kitchens staff gave her in a bag from the leftover rolls from earlier in the week. The rosemary is also from the kitchens, but Tara hopes that the rosemary planted outside their back door thrives. Her mother's access to fresh herbs she grew herself is a fond childhood memory she wants to share with her own children.

"Let's hope he doesn't go too crazy with the terrible twos. Meghan was almost impossible to deal with for a few months."

"I guess we'll see if the sign language pays off then."

Considering Christian's sign language vocabulary is nearly double his fairly strong verbal vocabulary, Tara hopes her wife's theory that lack of communication skills is a significant part of childhood tantrums is correct. Meghan really was a bit of a monster for six months or so, enough so that Lilly postponed plans to have another baby. That turned out to be a good thing, since her husband bailed shortly after Meghan turned three.

A knock on the door has Christian charging to the window and peering out. "Leelee!" He dances excitedly, chanting his version of Lilly's name, while Chris laughs her way to the door.

Lilly scoops the excited boy into her arms, kissing him as Meghan slips by to peer curiously at Tara's project. T-Dog soon appropriates Christian so his wife can steal away the baby for a cuddle.

Tara finishes rolling out her sausage balls with Chris and Meghan's help, delighting in the happy chaos after a life spent too quiet, especially after her mother died. This is the cheerful noise a holiday should entail.

~*~ Sophia ~*~

Sophia slides the stacked trays of sweet potato dumplings Beth made onto one of the side dish tables after debating if the things are desserts or vegetables. She figures the dessert tables will end up overloaded by the time all the food arrives, based on prior community potlucks.

Carl grins as he slides a huge casserole dish of Brussels sprouts next to Sophia's delivery. "I don't have anything more to help carry," he says. "Want to go see the baby quail? Daryl says they hatched yesterday, and dinner isn't for another hour."

"Sure." Sophia is free, since the trays she just delivered were her last food courier trip for the morning. Beth, Jazz, and Patricia have moved on prep for the family dinner now, and she's peeled enough potatoes for a couple of lifetimes. Other than vague plans to spoil Ava, she mainly wants to avoid more prep work. Today's a day with various people in and out of the house with equal plans to spoil her baby sister, so she'll wait until tomorrow, when her mama needs the help.

They trek down to the incubator house now built just past the pastures the poultry all wander in. Sophia isn't sure who had the idea to stop leaving the hatching of eggs up to only broody mama birds, but it's one of her favorite buildings.

The sound of various species cheeping greets them as a chorus when they step into the overly warm room. Carl leads her past the larger birds, those past the fluffy chick stage but still in need of extra warmth. He seems to know exactly where the quail are in a secondary room. It makes sense, since the gamebirds are a pet project of Daryl's.

Carl eases open the door to an enclosure and coaxes the tiniest, cutest bird Sophia has ever seen in her life into his hands. He grins at her expression, lowering the chick into her waiting palms.

"Geez. I knew the quail were small, but this is just crazy." No bigger than a cotton ball, the chick's tiny feet tickle her palms.

"Daryl says there are ones even smaller, but he hasn't caught any yet. Just the two bigger breeds, bobwhites and coturnix."

"You keep going out hunting with him." Sophia likes going hunting with her uncle, but it's a once a week thing on off days. The latest chore roster has four of Carl's five work days with the hunters, and she knows Carl will probably join the off day hunt too.

"There's so much to catch up on. A lot of the boys I went to school with hunted with their dads, but Dad didn't hunt and Mom hated guns. Didn't even get to go with Shane because of that." Carl's letting the chicks explore his hand in the brooder as he speaks.

"I guess it's a lot more interesting than supply runs." With the Governor dead and gone, Sophia's parents have relaxed the rules on teens in the field a bit. She can't go out with the first line crews, like Scout and Shane lead, but she's allowed to work with Glenn now. That's nice because it means time with Honey, since she's still subbing for Maggie on Glenn's team.

"Yeah, but less guarantee of bringing useful stuff back, especially since we've been trying to catch breeding stock. Jazz was saying yesterday that some gamebirds can crossbreed with chickens. I hope they try it just to see what they look like."

"Weird as hell, probably." Sophia eases her quail chick back in the brooder so it doesn't get too cold. It toddles into a mass of other chicks.

"Yeah, probably."

Carl's quiet as he latches the door to the brooder. "Jazz is gonna be gone a long time when he leaves next."

Sophia nods, feeling a little solemn about it. The age difference her mother cautioned her about is still affecting them, even just as friends. Granted, their trio friendship has been wobbly for a while due to Jazz's frequent travels and she and Carl exploring their future options. Where once she and Carl would beg to share chore assignments, especially with Jazz, now they don't overlap at all.

"Daryl told Mom we might not see him back here until August. Then he had to hug her, because that made her cry.'

Sophia thinks of the sad but proud looks her own mother gives Jazz when the older teen isn't looking. "Mama says it's like college, in a way. Just a little early because he's so smart."

"I wish it was like last year."

Last year, when they were a trio even with Jazz and Sophia were a couple, and their biggest complaint was that the boys could have sleepovers where Sophia wasn't allowed. It's ironic, because Jazz is the least likely teenage boy to cross any lines that Sophia has ever known.

Carl's wistful tone makes her hug him tightly. He returns the hug, before sneezing when her hair tickles his nose. It sends them both giggling, startling the chicks, and they decide to stop disturbing the baby birds.

Back out in the chilly air, Sophia smiles. "Today, Jazz is busy, but he won't be tomorrow. We'll kidnap him a while. Paul won't mind, and Logan will help."

"Alright." Carl looks more cheerful with a plan, and he slips his gloved fingers in hers as they head back to the holiday preparations.

Sophia will just adopt her mother's philosophy of planning to spend as much quality time as she can with Jazz.

~*~ Lori ~*~

Lori kisses Judith's soft curls where she's perched in the high chair. Breakfast is long done, but her youngest likes to sit at the table when Abby is coloring there. The baby is chewing on the arm of a ragdoll between bouts of banging it on the table.

Each time she bangs the doll, Abby stops coloring to talk to Judith about the crayons or the picture or whatever random thought she's having. It makes Lori grin. Anaya slipped back home after breakfast, citing a need to learn how to make the cabbage rolls Shane will bring to the family dinner later.

If someone told Lori two years ago that Shane Walsh would be a devoted husband and father, she would have thought they were delusional. Sure, he was a wonderful uncle to Carl, full of fun and mischief that an uncle gets up to with a favored nephew. But the daily grind of parenthood and marriage seemed beyond his abilities and ill-suited to his personality.

Nearly losing Rick shook all their world's to their foundations, but Shane took it to heart the most. Lori's glad that the whirlwind passed her by with Judith to show for it, because despite her once wishing for that level of attention in light of Rick's absent-minded affection, she doesn't think it would work for her the way it does for Scout.

She takes batches of cornbread out of the oven and slides them on her cooling racks, replacing them with pans of fluffy yeast rolls. Daryl sidesteps around her to drop his crockpot insert from the fridge into the base and turn it on.

Tasks done, she finds herself tugged into strong arms. Daryl doesn't immediately move in for a kiss, instead pressing his face gently into the curve where her neck meets her shoulder. She hugs him tightly and feels his lips press a kiss against her pulse before he raises up to brush another across her lips.

"You smell good enough to eat," he says softly, giving her that lopsided smile she loves so much.

She just laughs and swats his backside. He lets her go, moving to help her when she starts washing the turnips for later. It makes her smile though, as she works, thinking of how easily her husband is enticed. No makeup, no expensive perfume, just a homemade shampoo and soap that makes her happier than modern luxuries ever did.

"Carl wandered off already?" Daryl asks, moving to start cutting the turnips as she keeps washing.

"He was getting restless, so I sent him to take the Brussels sprouts up. Figure he'll go find his dad or Sophia once he delivered them."

"You know those two are flirting, right?"

Lori laughs and nods. "Yeah. I'm just glad he's not pining over Audrey. It looked like he would carry that flame for months."

Carl takes things to heart more than Loei does. It's a sweet trait he got from Rick, because she remembers Rick's first heartbreak when they were kids was similar. Shane got Rick over it by being the ultimate clowney best friend. With Carl, it's been Sophia.

"Like him better for Sophia than the other boys that have been nosing around since she and Jazz broke up."

"They're both perfectly nice boys, Daryl." Oscar's younger son Zaire really is a good kid, respectful and a hard-worker Lori loves having assigned to her chore roster. She doesn't know Jody as well, considering the boy's a Woodbury refugee, but he passes muster with Michonne. That's about as solid a character reference as it's possible to get.

"Jody's sixteen." Daryl sounds so grumpy she wonders how he's going to cope with Abby's teenage years.

Lori doesn't point out that Jazz is sixteen too. There's definitely a difference there that is sometimes uncomfortable for Daryl to address because of his own experiences.

"Do you honestly think that boy would risk Michonne being mad at him, much less Carol and Merle and the rest of the family?"

Daryl's quiet for a minute, methodically cubing turnips. She pauses in her washing, enjoying the play of muscles on display with him only wearing a tank top in their warm cabin.

"Guess not. Still like Carl better."

Lori interrupts his chopping for an affectionate kiss. "I can't wait for the day Abby and Judith start dating."

Daryl snorts, pressing an absent minded kiss to her forehead before directing her away from his cutting board. "Tyreese is raising good boys. Or Jacqui's girls. Could go either way."

"Planning it out already?" Lori can't help the grin overtaking her features. "What about Judith?"

"Hershey." Daryl's firm nod sends Lori giggling. He's smiling, obviously happy he's amused her.

Lori returns to her task, humming contentedly. This sweet partnership is what she always wanted to have.

~*~ Beth ~*~

Alex walks alongside Beth to the event tent, carrying a crockpot full of homemade mac and cheese cradled in one arm. Beth has pies in the pans designed to stack for transport, and he keeps glancing at the stack of pies.

"They really aren't that heavy." Three are meringues, with only the bottom apple pie with any real weight to it. "I'm just happy there was such a surplus of eggs that we could do meringues. They were still fairly reserved for other uses last year."

Beth can remember how Homestead seemed like a paradise after time on the road and seeing all the devastation. But it took a lot of careful husbandry of their animals to build up flocks and herds to this year's bounty.

"I think our Thanksgiving last year would have been mostly canned goods if we hadn't made contact here." Alex smiles slightly, his tone turning wistful. "I was able to make sweet potato pie from the produce trade. It was Kathy's favorite."

Beth smiles reassuringly at the glimpse into his old life. "Like most good Southern girls, right?"

"Yeah. Sweet potato anything was her favorite, especially the marshmallow one."

"My mama loves sweet potato casserole. Shawn and I used to snitch her marshmallows, though, and get our bottom swatted."

Alex actually laughs. "I have a hard time picturing you getting in trouble like that."

"Well, Maggie and Shawn were the hellions of the family, but I still did get up to mischief enough. What about you? Who was the mischievous kid, you or Gareth?"

That gets her a grin. "I confess that was me, all the way up until college. I think it really surprised my mother that I calmed down and became an accountant of all things, and at a time when I had less supervision, not more."

"I think Maggie was like that. She did well at college. I think Daddy is still a little sad that she prefers not to work with animals as much."

"Less likely for her to need to be stationed away from Homestead, though."

They've reached the tent and split up to drop off their food to the correct tables. Beth has to wait a minute as Scout and Jamie set up another table for desserts.

"What are you dropping off?" Scout asks, reaching to help Beth settle her pies.

"A butterscotch, two lemon meringues, and an apple caramel."

"Tasty. Any lemons left behind for supper?"

"Of course." There are four, actually, because Beth had an entire bushel of lemons when she came back from the coast. Jekyll will do brisk trade keeping Homestead supplied with the citrus they're gleaning out of the abandoned groves in south Georgia and northern Florida.

It still feels a little selfish that she kept so much for personal and family use, but Carol told her to get used to it. The specialists will be allowed and encouraged such extras because they have to serve multiple communities.

It's that thought that has her preoccupied as she and Alex head back outside, just in time to see the Terminus vehicles pulling through the property gate. The entire community is coming for the meal, leaving behind a prison booby trapped to the max his brother's mind can imagine.

Beth waivers a little. She's met Mary, Gareth, and Cynthia before, but never as Alex's girlfriend. He reaches out and pulls her close, his prosthetic hand resting against her arm. Once he realized she wasn't adverse to the metal and plastic even against bare skin, he doesn't avoid contact as much.

"Beth, my mother already loves you, and that was as the vet turned nurse that did enough research on amputations to change careers."

She smiles, pushing away the uncertainty, and accepts the chaste kiss he offers.

"C'mon. I want to see if my nephew's doubled in size again since I saw him last."

Laughing, she lets herself be led away to an eagle eyed woman who takes in the arm across Beth's shoulders with a wide smile and arms open for a hug.

* * *

_A/N: __If you haven't read the ISO chapters yet, I put character lists in PDF on my website. ISO lists will contain spoilers for the initial chapters._

_darktidings. atwebpages. com (minus spaces)_


	121. Live By Them, Part 3

**November 24, 2011**

~*~ Rick ~*~

Rick slides into a seat next to Rosita, who beats him to the table by virtue of having more self-control on what all she wants on her plate. She eyes his heavily laden plate with a smirk.

"Leave anything behind for the rest of the folks?"

He just grins at her and takes a bite of one of the smoked turkeys, barely refraining from a noise completely inappropriate for the dinner table. From the sly look he gets from Rosita, she still caught some of it in his expression. "I couldn't make up my mind."

"I live with you, and I still don't quite understand how you eat the way you do and still stay that damned slim."

"Lucky genetics, I guess." People used to tell Rick that metabolism would wear off eventually as he aged, but if it's going to, it hasn't so far. Considering he'll be thirty-seven in four days, he thought it might happen. Then again, he doesn't exactly lead a sedentary life.

Carl plunks his plate down with one hand and one of the portable baby high chairs with another. "Be right back!" he calls, trotting off to pluck his baby sister right out of his mother's arms. Lori looks puzzled for a minute, but then laughs when she sees Carl heading for Rick and Rosita.

"Here, Judy, we're eating lunch with your Uncle Rick," Carl tells the baby as he fastens her safety straps with ease of practice. Rick really enjoys seeing Carl as a big brother to an infant versus the easier pace he has with Abby.

At fourteen, his son is leaving behind the little boy Rick searched for so desperately after his coma. The best part is that instead of losing him slowly like he thought he would if he and Lori divorced, his son seems the happiest he's ever been. Meals like today, where he brings over some combination of Abby, Judy, and Anaya are common. No one back home would ever believe or understand the ease their family has as a little triad of parenting pairs.

Judy slaps the table, leaning over to reach for his plate. He hands her a roasted potato, laughing as she sighs and crams it in her mouth. He's pretty sure she wanted the turkey, but it's still a little too warm for baby fingers.

He's grateful they didn't even consider he was Judith's father, because while he could have pretended when she was very small, there's no mistaking the Walsh side of her heritage now. Her curly dark hair is the same color as Lori's, but the eyes that were once as blue as Carl's as a newborn are now a rich, dark brown the same as Shane's instead of her mother's.

"Crap. I need her cup." Carl disappears again.

"Is she drinking out of a cup already?" Rosita asks. "She isn't even a year."

Rick shrugs. The milestones they use for child development here aren't the ones he remembers being counseled to use for Carl, but all of the little ones are thriving. Judith's been stealing bites off his plate practically since she could coordinate her fingers to do so, along with any other adult who lets her in arm's length.

"I think it's more for practice than nutrition." He's proved right when the liquid in the cup Carl sets down looks like water, not breastmilk.

Judy eyes the cup curiously, playing with it for a minute before returning her attention to Rick's plate. He passes her a bite of broccoli this time.

"You're both coming to the supper tonight, right?" Carl asks. "Scout asked me when I got Judy's cup."

Because it's the community meal, the populous Dixon family is scattered around the big tent, spending time with those outside the family in that sociable way they all seem to come to naturally. Well, except Daryl, but Lori makes up for his natural reticence by being the social butterfly of the pair.

"Yeah, we're planning on it. Rosita's bringing tamales." Since Rick's cooking is more of the basic, 'we won't starve to death' type, Rosita declared they were sticking to her family recipes for their contributions to the lunch potluck and the later meal.

"Cool. Those are always tasty, Rosita." Carl grins at her before tucking into his food with the enthusiasm of a teenager's appetite.

Rosita's fingers curl around Rick's now that he's put down his fork in favor of offering Judy food. He glances at her questioningly, but she just leans in to steal a kiss.

God, he loves the casual affection Rosita sends his way.

~*~ Denise ~*~

The meal is starting to draw to a close, and Denise is feeling a little like a third wheel. Most of her table is infirmary staff, and every single one of her coworkers are one part of a couple. It seems sometimes like that's the story of her life, even in a community where being a lesbian doesn't engender any criticism or prejudice.

Case in point would be Cricket and Tara, passing Meredith between them with the growing ease of parents who are out of the early days of figuring out what makes their newborn tick. Tim and Christopher aren't as lovey dovey at the table, sitting across from each other instead of side by side so that Tara and Tim can commiserate as the non-medical folks present. But the flash of their opalescent rings leaves little question as to their status as paired off.

Further down, Caleb and his wife, Chloe, are sitting across from Felipe and Robyn. Chloe's pregnancy is at the stage now that Denise honestly doesn't think she'll make it to her Christmas due date. Lilly and T-Dog have that happy glow of an engaged couple that Denise can't help but envy, even though she's thrilled the nurse has someone as devoted as T-Dog.

She sighs a little, poking her fork at the remains of the roasted vegetable medley on her plate, wondering if she's willing to let the holiday blues keep her from sampling the heavily laden dessert tables. Before she can decide, there's a plate of salted caramel cheesecake being slid in front of her as someone takes a seat next to her.

"Tim said that's your favorite," Rachel Brooks says, smiling. The former U.S. marshal is usually busy with her own life outside the walls, as one of the team leaders for Homestead. She's one of the senior leaders, too, one of two who back Scout whenever she leaves if Shane's not taking a team out, too. She's also got a nephew she's raising, a boy Denise has seen with Tim and Christopher regularly, and there's a teenager around somewhere that's a foster daughter of sorts.

"It is. Thank you." Denise abandons what's left of the vegetables for a bite of the cheesecake. She doesn't know who made this one, but she needs to track them down and see what it takes for an infinite supply of the dessert.

"Good. He doesn't always get details like that right. I should have asked Christopher, but he was distracted at the time."

Having a second bite of delicious cheesecake in her mouth buys Denise time to comprehend that Rachel asked specifically about something Denise enjoyed. She darts a look to Tim, who isn't looking up, trying to rescue his shirt sleeve from Meredith's tiny drooling gums.

Christopher leans in next to her, though, whispering against the shell of her ear, "It's called flirting, Denise."

Oh. She looks back at Rachel, who is still smiling. She's caught Denise's confusion, but doesn't seem upset as she takes a bite of her own cheesecake, a berry covered concoction Denise wouldn't mind trying also.

One of the reasons Denise was chronically single before the outbreak was her inability to clue in fast enough when a woman was interested. Rachel's a beautiful woman, who is showing off her dark complexion today by wearing a bright, shimmering orange blouse. Her naturally curly hair is still close cropped from where she cut it back when the summer heat started creeping in. The short hair accentuates her facial features, making her cheekbones prominent and her dark brown eyes stand out. She's the sort of beautiful that makes Denise feel plain, but right now, she's looking at Denise as if she is the beauty.

From all the tidbits she's heard from Tim, Denise yanks up one memory that Rachel's a bit of a foodie. "Would you like to watch a movie together tonight? And have dinner?"

Bless her, Rachel doesn't bat an eye at the clumsy invitation. "I would enjoy that. Maybe you could show me how to make that soup that Christopher always giggles over the name of."

Denise nods, blushing. Christopher's sometimes childish delight in the soup named cock-a-leekie reminds her of Dennis so much that it makes her miss her brother, as much as the nurse seems to have adopted her in her late twin's stead.

"It'll take over an hour to make," she explains, just in case. Rachel did agree to a movie, though, and Denise will have to corner Tim for ideas on that.

"That sounds perfect." When Rachel leans in and brushes her shoulder against Denise's, Tim finally meets her eyes from across the table. The sniper is smiling, his eyes soft in a way they rarely are if it doesn't involve Christopher or Honey, as he looks between Rachel and Denise.

She doesn't feel so lonely anymore. Even if this doesn't work out, Denise has the type of friends who notice she's solo and play matchmaker for her. It makes her feel warm to her core.

~*~ Axel ~*~

Last Thanksgiving, Axel was trapped in a penitentiary cafeteria, helping Oscar guard Big Tiny's back from two vicious jackasses who saw the big, gentle man as a threat he only posed if threatened. They were sleeping on hard floors in shifts, none of them comfortable with the idea of not watching Andrew and Tomas closely. A year later, those two slimy bastards are dead, and he and his friends are not only free, but thriving.

Oscar's sandwiched in among his family at the next table. During their time in the prison, Oscar detailed a life of being the black sheep due to his slide into criminal activity and an ex-wife who barely tolerated him having video visits with his teenage sons. Now, the man's sitting across from his brother, looking as happy as he's ever seen Oscar. That might also be the hand he's got gently against Nichelle's back as he relates whatever tale he's telling.

He doesn't think ex-wife applies all that much anymore, and the teen boys are happy and joyous, a far cry from Anthony's angry-at-the-world attitude last Christmas and Zaire's sometimes timid behavior. Axel likes seeing Oscar happy, because he knows damn well he wouldn't have survived that prison cafeteria if the man hadn't been his friend.

As for Big Tiny, Axel knows he's one of the few who still thinks of the man by that term. The towering man's inclusion into the veterinary staff is pushing the old nickname further into the past. It's a proud Titus who sits next to his miracle: his Moms retrieved from the Savannah community that kept her safe after his other mother was lost to the virus. On his other side is the petite spitfire of a Latina who laid claim on Titus and never looked back.

His own pretty wife shifts next to him, drawing his attention back to their table.

"Babies giving you trouble?" he asks. Isn't that something he never figured on being able to ask a woman? But here his wife is, next to him, her belly growing by the day with their twins. It terrifies him some days to be this damned happy.

"Doing the bladder ballet. Gonna need to pop over to the community center."

"Want me to go with you?"

Angela shakes her head, brushing a sweet kiss across his lips. It still makes him want to blush and look around to check he's awake and in reality. "The girls will keep me company, won't they?"

A chorus of agreement has his table half emptying, as the female contingent of the kids that adopted him and Angela after the attack on Homestead happily gets to their feet to accompany Angela. Their departure leaves him with just Toby and Jeff.

Jeff watches the ladies go and turns back to Axel. "Why do they go to the bathroom in groups?" he asks with all the confusion of a thirteen-year-old. The boy may have survived months as co-leader of the group of children after the Governor's men slaughtered their families, but as time passes, he's more and more a regular teenager.

Axel can't help the guffaw of laughter. "That is a mystery men smarter than me have tried to solve for decades, Jeff. I don't think even the apocalypse is going to provide us with the answers."

His answer seems to suffice for Jeff, because he turns his attention to six-year-old Toby instead. "Want some cobbler, buddy? With your little sister gone, you might get to eat it all."

Toby agrees, and both boys get up to go raid the dessert table.

The light, affectionate tap that Jeff delivers to his shoulder as he passes? That just makes Axel's day even better.

~*~ Jazz ~*~

The event tent is half empty when Jazz is shooed away from his offer to help the usual kitchens staff from their efforts to start packing away food in take home containers for everyone's suppers. He drifts back to the table where he left his sister, Eugene, and Paul. Honey and Eugene are gone, but with the way they were eying each other, he suspects they're off at their cabin for the afternoon. If everyone's lucky, they might remember the family supper later.

Paul stands when he returns, finishing off the last of the cider he accepted to go with dessert. "Do we have anywhere to be?" the older man asks.

Jazz shakes his head. "I'm being expelled from the tent to 'go do something fun' according to Patricia."

"And what appeals as fun?" Paul falls in step beside him, trying to hide the smile when Jazz takes his hand. It's easier with the full beard, and Jazz wonders briefly if he should let his fill in more. It would be nice to make people have to try harder for his facial expressions sometimes.

"I'd like to go for a ride." With Imbri's colt safely in the world now, the mare isn't really an option, but one of the Savannah communities traded Homestead another mare of draft horse stock. He knows that Paul loves to ride, because he's met Buttons up at Hilltop, so it's an activity he figures they'll both enjoy.

It also gives Jazz some time that isn't crowded into people and noise, which is always a plus.

"Does that mean I get to ride Saxon?" The bay quarter horse gelding is Paul's favorite. Jazz thinks part of it is the scarred flank the horse bears from whatever attacked him before a supply run team found him and brought him home. It was touch and go with the gelding when they were home for Jazz's birthday.

"Of course. You know he likes Duster." The dappled gray Percheron's slower pace suits Saxon's still skittish personality.

They've reached the pasture beyond the barn, and Jazz lets go of Paul's hand to go whistle at the pasture fence. The summons gets them more than just the two horses they want to ride, so the others are rewarded with ample petting before Jazz leads the pair he wants out of the gate. It doesn't take long to get them in reins, although they do pause back by the house for their rifles.

As secure as Homestead seems to be, Jazz doesn't think anyone will ever forget being invaded.

"Where to?" Paul asks. It took him a little adjustment to be comfortable without a saddle like Jazz prefers, but he likes the idea now of only using the saddles when the horses need to double as supply carriers.

"Out to the lake? Maybe down to the main gate and back?" That can be stretched out probably until he does need to report in for supper. He's prepped everything he can prep, and nothing needs to go into the oven for at least two hours.

"Lead the way."

He smiles as he urges Duster forward, smiling back over his shoulder at Paul.

This feeling of contentment in his chest is one he hopes he never loses.

~*~ Ezekiel ~*~

The Kingdom has always enjoyed a relatively stable environment compared to some of the other communities, so Ezekiel looks over the bounty of the Thanksgiving feast his people have presented with a joyful heart. That joy is compounded by his nineteen-day-old son in the sling on his chest.

He took the advice of Homestead's budding young obstetrician and pediatrician to heart, especially when Harlan agreed that Cricket Dixon had a point and plenty of examples of it working for the infants there. Although Gideon doesn't need the kangaroo care for the same reasons they started it at Homestead for prematurely delivered Judith Walsh, he seems to be thriving on the fact that he's almost constantly in skin contact with adults. It makes Ezekiel feel more settled when the boy is near his heart like he is now, clad only in a diaper against his chest.

"How did he sleep last night?" Dianne asks from her seat next to him. Since Jerry's romance with Nabila turned happily fruitful, the big man is more willing to cede his self-appointed bodyguard duties to others. The stern blonde is the one who most often takes the seat next to Ezekiel now. Her interest in Gideon surprised him when it first started, as she's never shown an interest in the Kingdom's children beyond their security needs.

"Better than the three nights before." Gideon hit a stage of fitful sleep that kept Ezekiel, Harlan, and Jerry on their toes, with Nabila finally nudging her way in with the solution. "He likes being sung to."

"Just singing?" There's a little bit of sly humor in Dianne's voice, one side of her mouth quirked as if she's fighting a smile.

"He might also enjoy the Shakespearean sonnets just a little."

Harlan has a surprisingly rich singing voice, with a preference for jazz that Ezekiel didn't expect. Jerry seems to know every Disney song ever written. Nabila's songs aren't in English, but they're sweet and make Ezekiel long for his own mother every time she sings to the baby. But Ezekiel relies on the Bard for soothing his son the same way he soothes his people.

"You take on a different quality when you shift into Shakespeare. It's how your voice drops low," Dianne says, turning her attention briefly to scanning the perimeters of the room instead of the people within it like Ezekiel does. "It's a bit mesmerizing."

It's a good thing Ezekiel hadn't quite gotten his cup to his mouth when she added the last, because the blatant interest between that word and the gaze that returns to him would be obvious even to a blind man.

Ezekiel's neither blind nor stupid.

"When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes, I all alone beweep my outcast state," he begins, automatically finding the richer voice he uses for speeches. Pitched softly for conversation, there's no mistaking the invitation.

Or the acceptance he sees in Dianne's eyes.

* * *

_A/N: __Based on the remaining POVs I have listed, we're looking at two more chapters. Axel will serve as the sole prisoner viewpoint from this chapter, and G will cover the Vatos and the elderly in the next. Remaining POVs along with G: Abraham, Olivia, Aaron, Carl, Glenn, Eugene, and Daryl, with Carol and Shane being the ending POVs, just as they started off the story many thousands of words ago._

_ISO chapter to follow, of course._

_While she didn't get the scene time I originally intended for her (she's the ex-US Marshal who shucked half her clothes to distract the Claimers back when Shane & co put an end to them), if you don't remember who Rachel Brooks is, google the show Justified. I figure if Denise doesn't get Tara, why not let her have another fairly badass lady. ;)_


	122. Live By Them, Part 4

**November 24, 2011**

~*~ Abraham ~*~

A year ago, Abraham's two hour confessional to Hershel Green was the first time he spoke of his lost wife and children since their deaths. He left Rosita in a fashion that still makes him baffled that she forgave his asshole nature and consented to be his friend again. Rick is probably half of that, because she knows without a doubt he was right about them being incompatible now that she's found what she really needs.

This afternoon, he's stretched out in the floor on his belly in an actual home, a far cry from the tiny one-room unit he fled to after abandoning Rosita. His eleven-week-old daughter is frowning at the mirror on her playmat, confused about the 'other baby' she can't reach. Callie wiggles so much he wonders if she'll be an early crawler like his older children were.

Andre is draped across his back, peering over his shoulder to watch Callie, too.

"She's trying to crawl," he announces to Abraham.

"Not quite yet, buddy. But she's practicing so she will get strong enough to crawl one day soon."

"And then we can play outside?"

"Probably not while she's still crawling. Babies try to eat bugs and dirt and such if they're on the ground."

"That's gross."

Abraham hears Michonne snort from somewhere behind them. "You used to try to eat bugs, too, Andre Anthony. And there was a close call with some dog food once."

"Does dog food taste good, Mommy?"

It takes burying his face in his forearm not to guffaw at the absolute interest in the boy's voice. Michonne will kick his ass for encouraging that particular idea.

"I doubt it does, but babies and toddlers like to test things out sometimes," his mother explains. "Like how you test different foods to see if you like them."

"I liked the turnips at lunch. And the turkey. And the blueberry pie."

"Baby, I'm not sure there's any food you don't like."

Abraham thinks she's right, because Andre sometimes runs out of room to put all his food, but he never refuses just because of what the food is.

"Not bugs."

"Those aren't food," Abraham tells him.

"They are food. Chickens eat bugs."

"Well, they aren't people food. Some bugs are really bad for people to eat." Trying to explain eating crickets or the like is not a distinction he cares to make for a four-year-old. He'll get survival training eventually and experience it for himself.

"Come drink your milk, Andre."

Andre slides off his back and trots off. Abraham rolls and sees him run to Michonne in the kitchen, climbing up to drink from the cup she's set on the table. Despite the big lunch, she's set a peanut butter smeared graham cracker out for him, too. Pre-nap rituals hold even on Thanksgiving, he supposes.

He rescues Callie from her pursuit of the mirror baby, marveling at how much larger she already is. "How about you go find Mama and me and your brother go take us a nap?" he offers. He sweetens the offer of trading children with a lingering kiss.

"All that turkey weighing your eyelids down?" she asks as she takes Callie and cuddles her.

"Oh yeah. Me and Andre are gonna put on that cartoon about the train he likes so much and nap." In the past, Thanksgiving afternoon would have been napping during football, but Thomas the Train isn't a terrible choice either.

"Alright. Don't forget we've got supper to attend, too."

Andre's crammed his snack in his mouth, happy with the idea of the cartoon, and holds out his arms to be lifted up. Abraham just nods.

Last year, he was a disgraced man just glad that Carol Dixon saw something in him to forgive the violence he caused on arrival, even if she did threaten to slit his throat with the same tone most women would refer to slicing bread for a sandwich.

This year? He'll be a guest in her home, someone trusted to guard her children, not be warned away from them.

Maybe this year he is finally the good man he wasn't last year.

~*~ Olivia ~*~

Olivia is so damned tired by the time the remains of the Thanksgiving meal at Hilltop are packed away that she thinks she could fall asleep right at the table she's just wiped down so it can be packed away. The baby is a little battery drainer right now, sparing her the rigors of morning sickness, but substituting the need for a nap three times a day. It makes her grateful that Hilltop is fascinated enough with the idea of each new baby that no one really cares.

"We've got that. Why don't you head on home?" Enid is wearing one of the kinder expressions Olivia's ever seen on her face, with Audrey standing not far away. The teenager was grumpy that Jesus is still at Homestead, but she at least knows he'll be home soon. There won't be as many long trips to Georgia as much once Jazz moves up to the Kingdom.

At least with Audrey here, she doesn't have to track Enid down in Jesus's trailer quite as much.

"You're sure?" she asks, feeling a bit groggy.

"Yeah, I'm sure. We can manage a table, and if we can't, I know how to boss around boys who can."

Olivia refrains from laughing, because the girl's correct about that. The teenage boys of Hilltop are usually baffled by Enid, who refuses to conform to any notion of teenage girl they might have. Instead of running them off, like it might have in the old world, it means they're intrigued by a girl who is more trained for the world outside the walls than most adults.

"Alright. Come find me if I'm needed."

She heads toward their cabin, reminding herself that she no longer needs to do all the work just to earn her spot. She's not the chubby gal tolerated for her organizational skills here like she was at Alexandria. Here, she's council, even if that job sometimes makes her imagine Gregory meeting various cartoonish ends. Her favorite is the Acme Anvil at present, but that's probably because Bryce, former Marine and former cop, has a boyish love for the Roadrunner cartoons.

"Mind some company?" Bryce falls in step beside her, as if her thoughts conjured him, offering his arm.

She takes it and leans into him, smiling as she feels her engagement ring brush against his bicep. His company is never anything she'll turn down.

~*~ Gabriel ~*~

Gabriel is enjoying his little balcony garden despite the day's much chillier than what he usually likes. He's content in a way he didn't expect to be, considering the world outside the walls of this place is still something out of Revelations. But he can contemplate here, with a belly full of good food provided by the community, that perhaps his initial thoughts about the apocalypse were wrong.

If this were truly the end of all things on Earth, he thinks God would not have left the good people he lives among now. The sheer fact of their survival, such as the children chasing each other with happy cries from the tent to the community center for an afternoon movie, proves to him that while his faith was tested, the world still has hope.

It is more like the Great Flood, he supposes, than the End Days. The world is purged clean, with people sent to their reward or their punishment as their souls merit. Those left behind aren't only the pure of heart, but in time, those souls will win out and rebuild, hopefully with fewer of the travails of the old world to draw people into despair.

"You look like you're thinking awfully big thoughts for a man full up on turkey and sweet potato pie," Jessie says as she reaches the top of his stairs. She's smiling at him, and he takes a moment to admire the brightness of her personality. For someone who suffered so much, she's taken that strife and moved onward to become even sweeter.

"Just a rambling series of thoughts that would have once become a sermon," he replies, rising from his chair to kiss her cheek. Their relationship, if he reads the few evenings they've spent in what would be dates in the old world, is slowly evolving, but still relatively chaste. "Where are the boys?"

"Ron's off gathering up boys to play a game of lacrosse, and Sam went to join the other smaller kids for the afternoon movie."

"And you sought me out." Gabriel smiles, enjoying the novelty of his company being sought for reasons other than his clerical advice.

She holds up a DVD case. "You said you hadn't seen this, and that's just a cultural misstep I have to correct."

He laughs, taking the case and reading the back. "You realize this is a cultural landmark the children will soon forget, right?"

Jessie shrugs. "You never know, Gabriel. A year ago, I wouldn't have expected to see three hundred people trying to eat their weight in turkey and pie ever again, but here we are."

"Here we are." He agrees, and she steps a little closer, taking advantage of his hands being occupied to cup his face and brush her lips across his.

A year ago, he certainly wouldn't have expected he would be getting a kiss from a pretty blonde either, so just this once, he'll concede that the children may one day understand why a man might crossdress as a woman to interact with his own children.

It wasn't like he was going to turn down watching the movie, whether he likes it or not, because it'll be two hours spent curled next to her.

That's two hours well spent no matter what.

~*~ Glenn ~*~

Watching Maggie nurse their son is simultaneously the most beautiful and weird experience of Glenn's life. Before Homestead, he never saw a woman breastfeed a baby, and while it's commonplace here, his conservative upbringing definitely has kept his eyes politely averted. Cricket even teased him about his inability to look straight at her if she is feeding Meredith during their conversation.

He expected the same sensation of mild embarrassment even with his own wife, but instead, it's like he finally understands not just the necessity of the activity, but the beauty of it.

It makes him wonder if his mother missed out on something unique with her children, or if it was even a choice she made versus one made for her. Today, like most holidays, he misses his family. It's taken so long just to clear their way to the Atlantic and keep it reasonably clear that Michigan is a pipe dream, unless the walkers do die off one day like Hershel predicts.

If that day comes, where the only walking dead they have to fear are the limited ones from their own communities where someone dies isolated, he could actually make the trip. Sometimes he likes to think that all his family made it, just to imagine their surprise at seeing him ten years older and a successful father and husband. He doesn't know if his parents would accept Maggie, but his sisters? They would draw her in and adore her immediately, if nothing else for the baby she's holding.

"Do you want to burp him?" Maggie asks, interrupting his train of thought.

Glenn reaches for the burp cloth and then Hershey, grinning. It makes Maggie laugh.

"You've got to be the only person I know that delights in the task that night get you barfed on."

He just smiles, breathing in the sweet baby scent as his son lolls against his shoulder, already half asleep. Sure, it's a risk that he'll be cleaning spit up off his shirt. But there's an equal chance that Hershey will burp and fall asleep with his tiny face nuzzled into Glenn's skin. He's his son's safe place.

That feeling is worth any amount of baby barf his life may entail.

~*~ Aaron ~*~

Although Alexandria is showing some signs of change as Spencer edges his way into unofficial leadership, Aaron is still glad they made the trip down to Homestead. Waiting for a holiday month seems to be even better.

"It's nice, seeing Denise come out of her shell, isn't it?" He asks Eric. They're in their borrowed apartment that's settled below their friend's in the shipping container village. Eric is busy in the tiny kitchenette, working over some country specialty they're taking to the Dixon potluck later.

"Yeah. She just about glowed with that lady sitting next to her. Did you catch her name?"

Aaron shakes his head. "No, but she's the leader of one of the run teams here. Seen her go out with Scout and that tall Marine."

Eric tastes the concoction on the stovetop and reaches for a spice container. "They certainly weren't misleading on the acceptance level here."

"Do we want to still consider the move we talked about?" They've been here nearly a month, and the scale of Homestead is almost enough to make Aaron forget the world outside. It's not like Alexandria, where the walls can be seen from any home.

Eric pauses mid-stir and looks thoughtful. "I think we should give Alexandria more time to change. Spencer is leading by example, and others will eventually follow."

Not enough where his husband can teach, yet, but Aaron agrees it's coming. "The kids will be the real change makers."

"They will, and they need to see couples like us to bring that change."

"Besides, we can always make trips for diplomacy, right?"

"At least once a year. Did you hear they found a steam engine?"

It doesn't surprise him that Eric is fascinated with that idea. He always grumbled over the fact that train travel was too time consuming for the average schedule. "I suspect the engineers will figure that out sooner rather than later. Water and wood are easier resources."

"I wonder, sometimes, how well the communities in Africa weathered all this." Eric looks pensive. "But they likely fared better than the other continents, except maybe Australia. More self-sufficient there."

"Maybe. Less competition for resources, too, if the cities failed."

"We might hear news, one day. Eugene says it's always possible for the ham radio to pick up signals that far away. One of the record books he found showed a man here talked to someone in South Africa."

"I suppose we'll have to keep the radios in good working order then." Aaron gets up from the loveseat and goes to slide his arms around Eric's waist. "Meanwhile, that has to simmer a while, right?"

Eric's answer is to slide a lid on the pot and turn in his arms for a kiss with all the promise of more.

~*~ Daryl ~*~

Daryl taps Carol on the shoulder, distracting her from the conversation about diaper rash she's having with Lori. He's been lurking a bit, surplus in the kitchen with Jazz and Beth orchestrating things like long-term chefs in a professional kitchen. After refereeing one lacrosse game in the backyard, he gave up on the comedy of rule changes and slipped back inside.

It put him in a prime position for family gossip contribution, for once.

Carol turns, smiling up at him, but keeps turning when he points toward the young couple at the patio table outside. "When did that start up?"

Lori leans out and giggles. "Well, I guess Daryl gets his pick of Sophia's suitors then."

They're sitting and blushing now, pretending an interest in the Jenga game on the table. But there's no mistaking that three parental figures all just got a front seat to the fact that Sophia and Carl caught up to the flirting Daryl's been seeing for a while now with an innocent kiss.

"They've been dancing around it for a month, best I can figure," he tells Carol.

She sighs, but doesn't look sad. "It's funny. Feels like they should still be playing tag, like back at the quarry. Then I remind myself that they're fourteen now. Seems like you blink and they're grown."

Daryl pats her shoulder, knowing she's thinking as much about her too short time raising Jazz and Honey as seeing Sophia making steady progress toward adulthood, too. "You're going to have plenty of blinks for that one."

Ava's sound asleep in her mother's arms. It's still a unique sight, seeing a niece so pale-skinned and with the flame red hair Carol says she once sported. He thinks this round of nieces and nephews, if Carol has another, will be a lot different than the first time. Knowing he's their uncle will be a big difference alone.

"Even she seems like she's growing too fast. She's almost a month old!"

Lori points at where Judith is using Honey as a jungle gym. "Just wait until she's doing that when it feels like she was just born."

That makes Carol laugh. She looks at Daryl and then Ava. "Do you want to take her? I've really got to visit the bathroom."

He quirks a grin at her. "You ever heard me turn down the chance to hold a baby?"

Carol eases Ava's tiny form into his arms. She smiles sweetly at him. "Gonna teach her to call you Uncle Pookie."

"Still ain't a teddy bear." He likes the pet name, but if he doesn't make the token protest, it ruins their little routine.

"Keep thinking you aren't, if you like." Carol surprises him with a gentle kiss to his cheek before she heads off. He settles into the glider.

"You best get used to Uncle Pookie," his wife tells him. Her brown eyes are dancing with amusement and affection.

"I know."

He just grins as he sets the glider to rocking, his newest and littlest niece snug against his chest.

Uncle Pookie suits him just fine.

* * *

_A/N : One more chapter and we're all done with RBM. I ended up replacing Carl's POV with Gabriel, because it just fit better._

_And the Vatos just didn't flow. They're happy, I assure you. 😉_

_Last chapter will feature Eugene, Carol, and Shane to draw it to a close._


	123. Live By Them, Part 5

**November 24, 2011**

~*~ Eugene ~*~

Eugene puts away the leftovers in the fridge as Honey sprawls on their couch with a content sigh. She rubs her belly as if it were enormous. "It's going to take a ten-mile run to burn all today's calories," she announces.

He laughs, grabbing a bottle of the fizzy berry alcoholic drink the brewers have developed to mimic old world wine coolers for Honey and sets the kettle to boil for himself. Uncorking the bottle, he takes it to her, kneeling to raise her shirt and kiss her very flat stomach just below the belly button ring. "I strongly suspect you could eat like this every day and still boil through the calories like you were surviving on celery and air."

She tips back the bottle before grinning at him. "Are you implying I'm hyperactive?"

"Implying sounds so mundane. Besides, have you ever known me to not be entirely enamoured of your ability to run circles around everyone we know?" It's one of the things he enjoys about her personality the most, that she takes her athleticism so casually that she can manage to translate it into inspiring others to enjoy such feats as well.

He can't imagine anyone from his old life surviving the immense surprise of seeing him now, where he runs three miles three times a week alongside a beautiful woman. The steady exercise and excellent nutrition helped him shed any excess weight, even if he'll never conform to the idealized shape many of the men on the supply run teams sport. He's better aware now, that natural metabolism fuels some of them the same way it does Honey, and therefore less envious. With his ever active mind driving him to distraction at times, he doesn't think he could tolerate having his body drive him mercilessly as well.

Honey leans forward, pulling him in for a kiss that tastes of berries and the slightest tang of bitter alcohol. When she tangles her fingers in the long hair at the nape of his neck and tugs just a little, he allows the guidance and tips his head. The attention paid to his throat and collarbone narrows his own focus from the spiralling ideas always spinning in his head down to just the sensation of her touch on his skin.

It's a unique sensation, one he never expected to find, that comes from combining her sheer physicality with his more cerebral nature. She quiets his mind so that he finds peace. He settles her body so that she can do the same.

The kettle whistles, interrupting her attentions, and she favors him with a lazy smile. "Make me a cup of tea, too?"

With a nod, he gets to his feet a little unsteadily and returns to the kitchen to rescue the kettle before it makes the entire neighborhood think the property sirens are going off out of sync. With anyone else, he would feel dismissed, but she's never made him feel like her attentions will result in a teasing rejection once he's flustered and interested enough.

Making the tea is a ritual of sorts that he developed after Honey gifted him a book for his birthday that was more of an essay about tea than a true work of fiction or nonfiction. And while it focuses on the importance of tea and its culture in Japan, it served as a reminder that his love draws half of her cultural background from the East and the Pacific, not simply the American South so many of their community share now. On his own, he's collected other texts, even botany, seeking to expand upon that single book styled essay.

As he sorts through the containers to measure out what he thinks might interest them both tonight, after the heavy meals and rich desserts of the day, he makes a plan in the back of his mind to expand beyond the usual supplies pilfered from expensive and abandoned tea shops. Unless someone finds some viable plants, there will come a day where the exotic plants will no longer be available. His scientific mind thinks he can recreate many of them from natives, if he treats it like the scientific art it can be.

By the time he's got two cups ready, Honey has finished her drink and set the bottle aside to be recycled back to the brewery. He passes her one of the cups and watches in anticipation as she scents the hot liquid before taking a sip. He's seen her down alcohol, even rich wines, with as little attention as she would give a soda. But a cup of tea? That's a different story.

The tea is definitely a success when she makes a joyful noise. "Cinnamon? Something citrus."

Eugene smiles and sips at his own cup, allowing the spicy, sweet scent and taste to alight along his senses. "Orange rind, clove, cinnamon, and darjeeling black tea."

She hums through a few more sips. "Need to try this when I didn't predose myself with alcohol. I think this would really chase away chills as good as a hot toddy."

Since she likes it, he makes a mental note to copy that recipe from the book where he found it into the journal he's been keeping. Honey tends to prefer darjeeling based teas, and he wonders if the conditions that result in the tea's unique taste can be recreated. It wouldn't be within a greenhouse, so it'll bear some thought. And finally finding some of the damned plants.

"I suspect it would also work well as a base for a hot toddy, if you wished to add a little of alcohol's effects to the heat."

Honey nods thoughtfully, finishing off her cup as it cools in the fairly chilly living room. They rarely keep their home at the higher warmth of other indoor locations. Neither of them really cares for the extra energy usage when they actually tend to be away and busy, whether together or separately as their duties require.

She takes his cup when he's finished, balancing it with her own so that she can run her fingers along his pulse point in his throat. "Meet you upstairs?"

Eugene nods and makes his way to the pretty spiral staircase tucked in a nook that almost hides it from any visitors. At the top, he can look down into the kitchen, and he dawdles, watching as she takes care with washing the tea things and leaving them to air dry in the rack. He presses his fingers against the sting of a mark she left against his collarbone and smiles.

It's not just about the physical attraction they share, but all the rest of their relationship that he never dared to allow himself to dream of. Focusing on sex - and his usual lack of it - made ignoring the rest of his loneliness for human companionship and affection so much easier.

Now?

He's not even sure he's capable of functioning without the woman he loves.

Luckily for him, Hannah Dixon's devotion to him seems unlikely to ever waver, gifting him with the one person on the planet that can meet him devotion for devotion.

If he says a little thank you to a deity he would never admit to sometimes considering the existence of, that's between him and God.

~*~ Carol ~*~

Carol knew long before she made the conscious decision to have another child that her husband was a good father. His kids, despite the occasional hiccup, are devoted to him, a sentiment he returns in such levels that he quite literally lost his mind when he thought them lost. Even in that drugged haze of grief, he still reached out to her lost, terrified little girl and gave Sophia a lifeline the girl needed more than anything.

His interactions with his grandson further reinforced the idea that seeing him with a baby would be one of the most adorable scenes on the planet. Merle certainly was devoted to her during her pregnancy, even though he expressed the worry that his age meant taking a risk that wasn't the same when he first had kids.

But all that didn't really, truly prepare her for the actual sight of Merle with their daughter. He doesn't just rely on her for all the newborn care, aside from the one thing he cannot provide for Ava. When the baby cries, he's alert faster than Carol is, talking to Ava in that conversational manner he holds with kids whether they're nine days or months or years.

Tonight is another example. He's got the little bathtub on the counter, with Ava's tiny body carefully balanced with one big hand while he runs the little scrap of a wash cloth over her skin. The baby's been clean for a good five minutes, but he's still trickling the water over her because it soothes their daughter.

"I should probably tell you that you're spoiling her for life, with all this undivided attention," Carol says, laying a gentle hand on the back of his neck. Ava blinks in her direction when she speaks, but since she can't focus on Carol so far away, she turns back to the parent she can see.

"Nothing wrong in teaching her to expect to be the center of someone's attention." Merle's voice softens into a lower timbre as he sets aside the cloth to run a finger along Ava's cheek. "Means she won't settle for anything less than she deserves."

Carol thinks of the older children, all paired in their very different ways to people they love, and smiles. She supposes he's right. Neither of them were raised with the confidence to only accept what they deserved, or even to raise that standard to where it should be for a partner. Just thinking of how Sophia and Logan have bloomed among the rowdy Dixon clan tells her that Ava will never lack for confidence in herself and her family.

And God help the world if anyone like Lillianna or Ed ever encroached on Ava's future. If Ava didn't put an end to them herself, there would be a line across half of Georgia to stand in for her.

"Want me to take her?" she offers. Merle nods and hands her the soft towel, lifting the baby from the plastic tub into Carol's waiting arms.

She can tell the second the baby recognizes her, because the reaction of hungry baby is instant. Laughing, she carries the naked and squirming child back into the bedroom. She fiddles a diaper in place even as Ava latches on, the strong pull still a novel sensation for Carol. She didn't nurse Sophia, because Ed found it an off putting practice. Watching Ava's body grow and change without the upheavals of finding a formula that doesn't make her sick is a delight.

Merle reaches close to fasten the diaper tabs Carol left open in her move to shield herself from any accidents. "Seems like we barely got her, and already she's grown so big," he says.

"I'm just happy she did me the courtesy of waiting for the big growth spurts until after she was born." It's amazing, watching Cricket chart the baby's growth from smaller side of average at birth to ninetieth percentile. It's not a common growth pattern for breastfed babies, but as her physician trained daughter likes to note, for every average, there has to be outliers who boost the percentages.

Carol thinks it means that one day, she's going to be the shortest person in the family, because this child will take after her siblings. She finds she doesn't mind feeling like a tiny matriarch among the giants. It isn't just Merle out of the Dixons who loves her so dearly, after all.

"Daryl spotted Sophia and Carl kissing out on the deck tonight," she tells Merle. Ava growing so quickly reminds her that she isn't the only Dixon daughter making milestones quickly. The clumsy adolescent kiss might not be her daughter's first, but it's probably the one that Carol will need to pay far more attention to.

Merle sighs. "Any way we can stop the kids from growing up and chasing romance?"

"I doubt it. And she's had all the proper talks, from me and every single sister, based on her complaints. Cricket's made her swear off sex for life, but I doubt that'll stick."

"No more than those STD films they used to show for health class worked for any other generation." Merle smiles wryly. "Although at least that's far less likely these days."

It will take years to know for sure, but the communities who have tested extensively have noticed a decided lack of any lingering STDs. Carol agrees that the general idea that a lowered immune system response probably led to those with such chronic conditions being early victims of the virus, the same way that it burned through cancer patients and diabetics.

She leans in for a kiss, knowing Merle will maneuver around their daughter easily. Leaving one hand cupped against his stubbled jaw, she smiles at him. "They'll all grow up and find their own families, but that's a good thing. They won't be alone."

Like Merle was, by choice, for so many years before his brother meddled in his own unique way to convince them both to take a chance on each other. Daryl will never understand just how much she loves him for helping her see what was right in front of her.

"No, they will never be alone."

Just like Carol will never be alone, even if Merle's fears of his age and family history ever come true. With the blessings they seem to have now, she's going to count on that not coming to pass.

"I love you, Mouse," Merle says softly. His gaze is on Ava, not her, but it makes the words sink in even more.

"I love you, too."

Surely a just God would never bring them all this joy to take it away too soon.

~*~ Shane ~*~

Shane tucks the comforter around Anaya more securely, making sure her sock monkeys are all settled safely in bed or on their shelves. The girl's collection has grown, with quiet requests to Carol expanding the family beyond the initial toys to represent the immediate family. The latest one is Anaya's own creation under Carol's tutelage, the fluff of red hair on the diapered monkey signifying it can't be anyone but Anaya's infant aunt.

When he leaves the room, he leaves the door ajar and turns the dolphin nightlight on. The blue glow combined with the light of Anaya's aquarium's soft light makes the room look like a wonderland, and he takes a deep breath as he reminds himself that the family life he always envied his best friend is something he's found for himself, too. One of his children may spend half her time with her other family, but that doesn't change the joy he has that the crooked path he took to bring Judith in his life was one of the best 'mistakes' he ever made. The years of revolving door girlfriends that never made the grade when he pictured them as a wife or mother are long gone.

That's not something he ever really admitted in his womanizing days. It didn't fit with the mental image people crafted of him, that he was seeking what seemed impossible to find.

As he steps into his bedroom, he knows why it was impossible to find. Fate, karma, whatever made sure he didn't settle for anything less than the woman he did marry.

"She kick her comforter off in the floor again?" Scout asks, looking up from the book she has propped on one knee. She's sprawled on the bed, her dark skin a contrast between the pale blue sheets and the white tank top she stole from his drawer. The fact that she hasn't bothered with the comic book themed boxers she normally wears to bed reminds him to shut and latch the door.

"Of course. Along with three of the monkeys. The Anaya one was halfway across the room."

"She would claim on a mission to explore the fish tank."

"We're probably going to need a second tank for her soon." Anaya's collection of rainbow shiners is courtesy of Daryl, who brought back a bucket of them for her birthday. The little fish aren't as brightly colored as pet store tropicals, but they still fascinate their daughter. Finding out they will eat their own young was not as thrilling an experience.

"If we save the fry, we're going to need an entire pond eventually," Scout replies, amused. She slides a bookmark into her book, setting it aside.

He's not surprised to see it's a tactics book. The world will never be enough at peace to settle his wife's mind. Scout's thought processes have been honed for protection since she defended Daryl from her grandfather when she was younger than Anaya. He doubts there will ever be an off button for it for her, especially after years of military service.

"When that time comes, we'll send her to Merle with her best pouty face, and the man will be out across the river, digging her an entire lake."

Scout snorts, stretching languidly. "You're probably right about that, but I suspect he won't be the only one running earth moving equipment when that day comes."

Shane tries for an innocent look as he strips down out of the day's clothes. "It'll be a project for being manly men, providing for the next generation."

That leads to outright laughter. "Just keep in mind that she'll be demanding to be taught to run the backhoe herself when that time comes."

"As she should. Your sister has been setting quite the example. The day will come when y'all only keep us around for decoration."

He crawls onto the bed, hovering above her for a lingering kiss. Her hands moving to explore his back is almost an automatic response, and he smiles down at her as she slides fingers along his spine.

"I suspect I'll be keeping you around for more than decoration."

"Yeah? Like what?"

She arches a dark brow, wiggling beneath him. His body understands that answer quite well, so he draws back to tug at her shirt, sliding it off and tossing it aside. It lays bare the scarred flesh that intimidated him the first time they lay entwined like this. Back in the confines of his tent, which seems a lifetime ago, he remembers the sense of awe that settled over him when she let him first lay a kiss against the sign that she survived a hell worse than the dead walking around them.

He remembers the Amazon of a Marine he first met, staring him down across a dusty quarry with everything about her screaming protectiveness of the man he had just had to restrain from killing Rick. Scout was the first person to give him breathing room in a world gone beyond mad, and along with it, hope that there was something more to him than standing in Rick's shadow as he always had. She layered all his broken pieces in with her own, building a mosaic of togetherness he never thought he would find.

When Shane lays his lips against her skin this time, it's more than enticement or lust.

It's a devoted love for the sculptor who took one look at a broken man and saw the beauty in making him whole. He can never repay the gift she gave him, but he will certainly spend the rest of his life trying.

**~*~ Finis ~*~**

_"As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them" -John F. Kennedy_

* * *

_I know I said each RBM chapter would get a corresponding ISO chapter, but Part 4 didn't get a twin and won't. It kept being felt forced, so I aimed for skipping it to work on this instead._

_580k+ words after a project I initially started for myself, and we have reached the end. I started the project after a health crisis left me partially blind, returning to writing in a depth I did not think possible after my writing partner lost her battle with breast cancer years ago. Diving into the adage to write what you want to read if you can't find it certainly led this into an epic I never expected when I was just trying to pour out words while I still had sight to see them._

_Even though we will go on to see many of these lovely characters in ISO, they will no longer be the same people who have populated 123 chapters. It's a sad and happy moment combined, for me, and I thank everyone who has been along for months, watching as they went from angry strangers in a quarry to a family that spreads far beyond the ties of blood._

_All of y'all have been great in encouraging this to become more than just a largish story that explored a few viewpoints _ to the fourth longest completed TWD story on Ao3_, from JCJ58's very first comment on Chapter One on Ao3 in November 2019 to the whole host of people who joined up along the way on both Ao3 and FFnet to take the journey with these fictional folks as they became more than the show ever allowed them to be. I look forward to seeing y'all on ISO as well._


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